Thankful for Fantasy
“Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.” – Dr. Seuss.
“Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters, united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.” Francisco Goya.
“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It’s a way of understanding it.” Lloyd Alexander
I’ve spent the more significant part of the last seven years writing a weekly blog that covers famous fantasy authors, and believe it or not, I’ve only gotten through two different authors. H.P. Lovecraft and, currently, J.R.R. Tolkien.
Meanwhile, during that time, media like Critical Role and Stranger Things have increased the popularity and accessibility of Dungeons and Dragons (and general role-playing games).
“Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope, and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities.” – Dr. Seuss.
“Fantasy, abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters, united with it, she is the mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.” Francisco Goya.
“Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It’s a way of understanding it.” Lloyd Alexander
I’ve spent the more significant part of the last seven years writing a weekly blog that covers famous fantasy authors, and believe it or not, I’ve only gotten through two different authors. H.P. Lovecraft and, currently, J.R.R. Tolkien.
Meanwhile, during that time, media like Critical Role and Stranger Things have increased the popularity and accessibility of Dungeons and Dragons (and general role-playing games).
I’m happy about this resurgence. I’ve played role-playing games and read fantasy books my entire life, but it’s hard to explain what it does to someone who doesn’t appreciate it.
I will tie Horror with Fantasy here (just like Lovecraft was also part of my blog) because they are the same.
Horror, just like anything else, has levels. There is Horror that is just there for the scared or the gross-out, but excellent Horror is there to explore grief, courage, and the human condition. The use of subtext is paramount because the antagonists in good Horror are almost always the characters themselves. It is something internal they must work through, some wound that they never dealt with that manifests into some epic evil.
Likewise, in Fantasy, you might have a simple story of a group on some adventure, but excellent Fantasy incorporates themes of PTSD, hope, and friendship. In good Fantasy, characters go through outrageous ordeals and must live with their decisions. In most Fantasy, the odds are overwhelming, and the protagonists must gather their courage and face stronger foes that outnumber them.
So what does that do for the person consuming that media? Why is Fantasy an essential part of our collective consciousness, even when describing things that don’t occur in this world?
It’s because of what Fantasy does; it deals with deeper issues and it’s escapism. When you are dealing with something as serious as PTSD, facing that condition straight on with a realistic dramatic story that shows a character going through what you had gone through actually might not help that much. Sure, you can have the experience of seeing someone go through whatever you went through. Still, a dramatic, visceral take might trigger you more (I hate to use the word trigger because it’s overused in our modern parlance and diminishes people who genuinely have to deal with such things, but it’s the most appropriate word in this instance).
Take a book like “The Stormlight Archive” by Brandon Sanderson. It’s a High Fantasy series where each character has to deal with something horrendous. Whether it’s war, abuse, or death and grief, each character must navigate and work through these problems subtly while at the same time dealing with the fantasy world they live in.
The fantasy aspect takes away some of the real-world stings of events and enables us as readers to process some of the trauma realistically, much more than being faced with Horror and made to deal with it head-on.
This idea is precisely the point of the Lloyd Alexander (novelist, most well known for his fantasy books for young readers) quote above. Fantasy allows you to have an extremely complex reality and break it down in a way conducive to healing, enabling understanding.
Likewise, Dr. Seuss’s quote might seem a little out of place, but what he’s saying is that Fantasy allows us to take something from our lives and then take it to its extreme, which turns something potentially harmful into something absurd. It will enable you to release some of the gravity of reality because you can suddenly see that those things weighing on you may not be as bad as they seem if you have to sit in their emotion.
Nostalgia and levity, perspective, and release are what these two quotes are all about. We read these types of Fantasy when we see something like Tolkien. Lloyd Alexander (If you have not read or seen the Disney version of The Black Cauldron, stop what you’re doing and do so). But there is another type of Fantasy. A much darker aspect, and that is what Goya speaks of in his above quote.
Goya is talking about Exorsizing our Demons, and it’s why people love the darker turn of Fantasy and all of Horror. Everyone has fears and demons that they harbor inside, and everyone has to deal with them to a certain degree.
One of the steps of recovery from trauma (and of psychological trials like anxiety) is verbalizing or visualizing the actual trauma. It becomes much easier to deal with if you can manifest your fear and see it for what it is. A famous psychological test is the “Then what” test. You state your fear (I’m going to fail a test); once externalized, you ask, “Then what?” (My grade will go down). “Then what?” (I’ll have to study harder. My parents will be mad at me.) “Then what?”
Eventually, you get to a point where there is nothing in the well to worry about, and looking back, the fear is diminished because the result is very rarely the worst-case scenario in the first place.
Goya is manifesting the worst-case scenario and bringing it to the forefront, except what happens in Fantasy? Very rarely, the worst-case scenario. The giant monster emerges (the worst fear), and the protagonist prevails (even if they don’t eliminate the big bad).
Fantasy is a way to face your fears and prevail over them. Fantasy is a way to show that it’s possible.
So, on this Thanksgiving Day, I’m thankful for Fantasy. I am no longer hiding the fact that I love the genre and that it can be less than Literature because what good Fantasy does is heal our souls, and everyone needs a little healing sometimes.
A Thursday Treat
Happy Thursday! So, I have fallen behind a bit in my Tolkien reading, and with Thanksgiving right around the corner, I’m going to take this week and next week off of the Blind Read blog. I can’t leave well enough alone however, so I’m going to give you all a little treat this week with a sneak preview of my New Novel “The Monster in the Woods.” It’s a fantasy/heist story with a mystery at it’s core, that follows a group of teens trying to figure out if the Monster threatening the town they live in is real or not. Told in a revolving POV, it’s a death defying adventure in the classic vein of The Goonies. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
Chapter 1
Lishtest
There was a soft click and suddenly haunting beautiful music echoed across the camp, lending a surreal tint to the night. Fog had rolled through, which led to a particularly claustrophobic aura over the two guards. Jack sat cross legged with his back to the town wall, facing the fire and beyond into the woods. Taun sat to Jack’s left but parallel to the wall still facing the fire. Lishtest sat opposite Taun, studying the fog, polishing her pauldrons. Lish was their Captain and always believed in a clean, well oiled uniform. Tidiness meant order and order meant discipline, and Discipline meant she could keep people alive.
“Turn that thing off, man,” Taun complained. “It’s creepy enough out here without you giving it a soundtrack.”
“Come on! My son gave this to me,” Jack whined. “Behbet said my youngest walked into a store and listened to it for a minute. She said his eyes got this glazed over look to them, and then she said he turned to her and looked her in the eye and with a super serious expression said to her, ‘Dad should have this.’ It just hit me when she told me that. He’s my son, you know? But when she told me that, it was like, he thinks of me like I think of him. And I’m out here and he’s in there. I want to hear it to remind me of him, but I want him to know I have it, because it was so important to him. Even though it’s creepy as hell.”
“Damn man, I didn’t know,” Taun said. Lish looked up at Taun and she was surprised to see that he actually looked like he could be experiencing some kind of emotion.
“Naw, I gotta stop it,” Taun said and swiped the box from him. Lish smiled. Now he was acting like the Taun she expected.
It was their Tenth day and Eleventh night out beyond the walls of the town. They got very little sleep out here, despite the fact that the Ferrians probably would not be attacking any time soon. Their army was too green, too weak to take on Teriistown. It’s walls were too high and reinforced, their army was too powerful. They raised warriors afterall, drafted as children and taught to be soldiers all their lives. No matter how angry the Ferrians were at Duke Siiran for the new policy he had instilled on them she didn’t think they would come and revolt.
It was getting monotonous. Everyday, she would send out some mix of the three of them out to range and survey the forest, while the third stayed back at camp for hours on end with nothing to do but collect firewood and boil rations. They had just begun their fourth rotation, and discipline in camp was already deteriorating to the point where Taun felt he could take Jack’s music box, no matter how annoying the thing was. She was going to have to put her foot down.
“Give me the box,” Lish said, almost under her breath.
“Awe, Cap, we were just messing around,” Taun began, but she wouldn’t let him finish.
“Captain,” she said it a bit too harshly and internally winced, but there was no going back now.
“Sorry. Captain,” Taun said and handed the music box to her. “Just having a bit of fun.”
Lish took the music box, nodded slightly to Taun and took it to her tent. She opened her chest and buried it underneath her clothes, before coming back out and sitting by the fire. Good. Taun took it seriously. He still had respect for the uniform. As a captain, out here, beyond the wall, there was nothing more important that your soldier’s respect.
“Wait sir, so I cant have it back?” Jack said. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Damn, Lish thought. She leaned forward and looked directly into Jack’s eyes. The fire reflected in his eyes the anger back at her.
“Lieutenant. There are three of us out here. Are we friendly, yes. Is there a chain of command, yes. You both need to know that if one of you gets in trouble, you both get in trouble. Has it been that long since Basic Training?”
“My son gave me that music box.”
“And you can have it back in the morning,” Lish said, then leaned back on the stump.
“I’m not a child, and that box is important to me.”
“You are not a child, lieutenant. But Ferrians aren’t all that we are out here to watch out for, and there’s no reason to call more attention to ourselves than is particularly necessary. Playing it during the day when we can see into the woods is one thing, but playing it at dusk, while we have a fire to make the darkness darker, and there is a fog giving more cover, you’re really going to play music to mask the sound of something approaching?”
“Something approaching. Ferrian’s aren’t all? You really believe there’s some kind of monster in these woods?”
“I mean, did you see the Carpenter? Dude was shredded. I’m not even sure if they know if it’s really the Carpenter, he’s so messed up.” Taun responded.
Lish gave Taun a look. “No, I do not believe there is a monster in these woods, lieutenant. I do think there are some large animals, and maybe one that has grown a little too big and someone thought it was a monster. It doesn’t change the fact that something can still sneak up on us in this kind of environment, natural or not, if we’re making a whole bunch of noise. This conversation is not helping. Do I make myself clear?”
Before Jack could respond, Taun interrupted. “Did you hear that?”
“Oh shove it Taun,” Jack said.
“I’m being serious! That way,” Taun pointed off slightly north-east.
“Grab your weapons,” Lish said as she stood and glared out into the fog filled woods. She was looking for movement, but the firelight danced through the fog and her mind made her see figures dancing in the darkness.
She noted the action on Jack and Taun’s rifles and knew they were following her lead. Nothing like a threat to snap someone to attention. She worked with them enough to know that Taun was flanking out to the right, and Jack was moving the other direction. Lish would take the middle as the ranking officer.
She began to move toward the forest slowly. Her rifle held up, she strafed the forest edge. She took a moment to steady her breathing and felt adrenaline give her senses a lift. The forest was dark and thick with brambles, but came into focus as she moved away from the fire. She saw it. It was big, bigger than a bear. It’s hide was glinting from the fire which meant it had some kind of Chitin or armor, but she wasn’t sure if it had thick long hair, or tentacles. It’s eyes glowed green as it locked with hers.
She took another steadying breath while she raised her hand and pointed at it. “There,” She said in an octave lower than her normal voice.
The thing seemed to snuffle in anger, like her dog did as a kid if it didn’t get what it wanted. It seemed to blink in and out of existence for a moment. She couldn’t be certain how it moved, but all the sudden it was five foot to the left of where it was. Everything in her wanted to pull the trigger, but she didn’t know anything about it and she needed Taun and Jack to give her the signal that they were in place before she acted.
It blinked again and it was closer. It’s eyes never left hers, but there was something in them, something unnatural. Just two glowing orbs, no iris, no cornea. It really was a monster.
“Hup,” Jack called out. He was in place.
She rested her finger on the trigger and gently began to squeeze.
It looked at her again and somehow those orbs conveyed curiosity.
“Hup,” Taun called out.
Her finger squeezed and a moment later she heard the discharge of both their rifles.
The creature blinked again, and it was on Taun. He screamed. It was a sound Lish never thought a human could create. She slid another bullet into the chamber and slid the bolt handle shut in one fluid motion and fired again. Taun was using his rifle as a baton swinging it against the thing, as he tried to maneuver away, but it stayed on him.
She fired again and again and she heard the report of Jack firing as well, but the thing didn’t seem to even feel it. She couldn’t see it attacking Taun either, but his skin kept rending in places, spilling bright red against the foggy gray night.
Taun continued to battle and dance away from the creature, but she could see his movements were slowing.
“Jack, Fire!” She ordered. She grabbed a log she could swing and stuck it in the camp fire. The log took forever to light and Jack appeared next to her continually firing and reloading his rifle. Taun screamed one more gargling scream and then abruptly stopped.
Once the log was lit, she ran at the creature and it blinked again. It was suddenly right in front of her and that Green Orb was the size of her head. She shoved the log into the eye, fire first. The creature squealed and a moment later she felt herself flying through the air back towards the campfire.
She heard Jack’s battle cry, but it turned to a drowning gargle before she blacked out.
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, Part 2, Túrin Turambar Final Thoughts
“Turambar indeed had followed Nienóri along the black pathways to the doors of Fui, but Fui would not open to them, neither would Vefántur. Yet now the prayers of Úrin and Mavwin came even to Manwë, and the Gods had mercy on their unhappy fate, so that those twain Túrin and Nienóri entered into Fôs’Almir, the bath of flame, even as Urwendi and her maidens had done in ages past before the first rising of the Sun, and so were all their sorrows and stains washed away, and they dwelt as shining Valar among the blessed ones, and now the love of that brother and sister is very fair; but Turambar indeed shall stand beside Fionwë in the Great Wrack, and Melko and his drakes shall curse the sword of Mormakil (pgs 115-116).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week, we’ll give some final thoughts on Turambar and the Foalókë, including some semantics and religion, to better understand what Tolkien was trying to do in this history of Middle-earth.
I chose the opening quote of this essay because I think that religion is at the cornerstone of everything that Tolkien was doing at this point in his career.
This story iteration was a mixture of the third and fourth drafts Tolkien’s son, Christopher, edited together. That quote that starts this essay has so much to unpack, and it’s all about meaning, life, and the afterlife.
A few sentences above that quote, we find that Úrin and Mavwin go to Mandos after dying, heaven in this world. Úrin spent his life struggling against Melko as a thrall and a man who tried to better those around him. Mavwin tried to do her best for all of her children and for the town she lived in. So, it makes sense that these two would be gifted an afterlife.
Túrin and Nienóri were denied entrance to Mandos, so they went to Fui and Ve, which are Purgatory and Hell, respectively. Strangely enough, they are also denied entrance to these places of the afterlife. So what does that leave them?
This might be the first time in the history of Middle-earth that the possibility of a spirit (or spirits) wandering the lands comes into play. The Valar looks at these two humans and decides they are not worthy of any afterlife because of their actions. Túrin with the deaths he caused, and Nienóri because she had a child with her brother and killed herself.
Judgement rains down on the two despoiled people from every direction. They hold themselves accountable and let depression and hatred of their actions lead them to suicide. At the same time, they feel the disgust of those around them, and even the Gods (in the form of Valar) tell them that they are not worthy of the afterlife because of their actions.
You must remember that Humans at this time were the only conscious beings living on Middle-earth who actively died (Elves could die from martial means, but otherwise, they are immortal, and the Valar are eternal gods), so damning a human to eternal torment of staying in the place of their transgressions and forever having those reminders was a cruel punishment.
This brings me to my next point: Tolkien wrote this as a tragedy of the tallest order, much more so than the story of Beren and Lúthien. To illustrate this, here is the literary definition of tragedy from Encyclopedia Britannica (forgive the pedantry).
“Although the word tragedy is often used loosely to describe any sort of disaster or misfortune, it more precisely refers to a work of art that probes with high seriousness questions concerning man’s role in the universe.”
Tolkien saw some horrible things during his lifetime. He spent years of his youth in the trenches of World War I and saw what bullets, mortars, and Mustard Gas did to people—this time had an indelible mark on his life and his writing. Many people think that his battle scenes are where his time at the Front comes into play, but to be quite honest, that could be imagination (I have written battle scenes, as have many authors who have never seen war).
I contend that what Tolkien took from World War I was instead a deeper perspective on humanity and tragedy.
The humans in Middle-earth had to come to grips with a shorter life span and thus had to work through their emotions of the knowledge of death faster than the Elves or the Valar.
That understanding echoes the real-life experiences in war and better explains the impetuousness of Túrin.
The Elves and Valar had the time to contemplate their actions and trajectories, but humans were born knowing they would die. That knowledge, living with beings that knew they couldn’t die, affected humans strangely. They strove to make a name for themselves; they aimed for meaning and legacy. Once someone gets a taste of notoriety, pride enters, and there is no more tremendous anger than damaged pride.
This is the start of Túrin’s fall and the beginning of his tragedy. He murders Orgof for being bullied, and though he is forgiven for this transgression, he is never able to forgive himself. His actions had to be more severe as he aged because a more significant action was the only way to make up for his earlier actions.
That is the true tragedy. Túrin, as all the people around him would probably attest, only ever wanted to help his fellow man and make the world better, but because of his past and his drive, it leads to wrong decision after bad decision, which creates murder and destruction in its wake.
Bringing this back to the definition of tragedy, this tale is only “high seriousness” and shows how mortality can change how people see the trajectory of their lives. Man’s mortality becomes the defining characteristic of their early existence on Middle-earth, and it takes them generations to come to grips with that mortality (which they never indeed do).
Then we layer on that Tolkien meant for these tales to be a mythology for England, kind of a pre-history of our current lives, and it shows how our ancestors dealt with fame, love, and mortality, which informs us as a culture and species moving forward.
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 2; Túrin’s last tragedy
“There did she stay her feet and standing spake as to herself: ‘O waters of the forest whither do ye go? Wilt thou take Nienóri, Nienóri daughter of Úrin, child of woe? O ye white foams, would that ye might lave me clean – but deep, deep must be the waters that would wash my memory of this nameless curse. O bear me hence, far far away, where are the waters of the unremembering sea. O waters of the forest wither do ye go?’ Then ceasing suddenly she cast herself over the fall’s brink, and perished where it foams about the rocks below; but at that moment the sun arose above the trees and light fell upon the waters, and the waters roared unheeding above the death of Nienóri (pg 109-110).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week, we conclude the tale of Turambar and the Foalókë and experience the last tragedies of Turambar’s life.
We left off last week with Turambar and Níniel deciding to ride out against the Foalókë, Glorund, to kill the drake. They gathered with them a group of men desperate to rid their land of the terrible beast, but on the way to the drake, they slowly abandoned the mission, leaving only a handful of mercenaries left, and “Of these several were overcome by the noxious breath of the beast and after were slain (pg 104).”
Eventually, only Turambar and Níniel were left to face the beast. “Then in his wrath Turambar would have turned his sword against them, but they fled, and so was it that alone he scaled the wall until he came close beneath the dragon’s body, and he reeled by reason of the heat and of the stench and clung to a stout bush.
“Then abiding until a very vital and unfended spot was within stroke, he heaved up Gurtholfin his black sword and stabbed with all his strength above his head, and that magic blade of the Rodothlim went into the vitals of the dragon even to the hilt, and the yell of his death-pain rent the woods and all that heard it were aghast (pg 107).”
The death of Glorund would seem like a cause for celebration, but unfortunately, Turambar’s efforts to end the scourge of the great worm only ended up in more tragedy.
His death was foretold from his early mistakes, and if he had only taken a little more time and been less impetuous, his life wouldn’t have ended up the way it was. Turambar is an echo of Hotspur, the firey prince of Shakespeare’s histories, where he has everything going for him, but because of his temper and strong desires, his life is degraded.
So how could Turambar’s life degrade from killing the drake, you might ask? Well, he passes out next to the Foalókë, and when Níniel comes to find him, she thinks he died along with the dragon in mortal combat. She weeps next to Turambar. She weeps for her husband. She cries for the man who killed the dragon and saved their people. But her weeping wakes Glorund for one last gasp.
“But lo! at those words the drake stirred his last, and turning his baleful eyes upon her ere he shut them for ever said: ‘O thou Nienóri daughter of Mavwin, I give thee joy that thou has found thy brother at last, for the search hath been weary – and now is he become a very mighty fellow and a stabber of his foes unseen (pg 109).”
Glorund died with these words, but what fell with the great beast was the glamor he held over Nienóri. She was suddenly aware of who she was and who Túrin was. Realization bombarded her that she had been married to her brother and had children with him. Aghast at the knowledge, she heads off to a waterfall called the Silver Bowl, contemplative. But instead of Nienóri coming to terms with the events of the last number of years, she is overwhelmed, and we get the quote that opens this essay.
Túrin wakes and quickly realizes that she is gone. He heads back to the village where the people already know the secret of their king and queen, and Túrin pulls it out of them. This being Túrin and his tragic story, he responds how you would expect him to:
“So did he leave the folk behind and drive heedless through the woods calling ever the name Níniel, till the woods rang most dismally with that word, and his going led him by circuitous ways ever to the glade of Silver Bowl, and none had dared to follow him (pg 111).”
Túrin turns to his sentient sword and begs for the only absolution his troubled life could understand.
“‘Hail Gurtholfin, wand of death, for thou art all men’s bane and all men’s lives fain wouldst thou drink, knowing no lord or faith save the hand that wields thee if it be strong. Thee I only have now – slay me therefore and be swift, for life is a curse, and all my days are creeping foul, and all my deeds are vile, and all I love is dead (pg 112).'”
“and Turambar cast himself upon the point of Gurtholfin, and the dark blade took his life (pg 112).”
The tale doesn’t end here, however; Tolkien switches us back to Mavwin and her search for her children. She wept and went into the woods, and the region of Silver Bowl became haunted by their past and presence.
Tolkien also lays on some of his Christianity, which is notably absent in the later editions:
“Yet it is said that when he was dead his shade fared into the woods seeking Mavwin, and long those twain haunted the woods about the fall of Silver Bowl bewailing their children. But the Elves of Kôr have told, and they know, that at last Úrin and Mavwin fared to Mandos, and Nienóri was not there nor Túrin thier son (pg 115).”
Both the children ended up as spirits because their transgressions forbade them from the afterlife.
Join me next week as we dive more into the religion of the story and break down just what Tolkien was going for with such a horrifically tragic story.
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, Part 2, Turambar’s Fourth Tragedy
“Now as the days passed Turambar grew to love Níniel very greatly indeed, and all the folk beside loved her for her great loveliness and sweetness, yet was she ever half-sorrowful and often distraught of mind, as one that seeks for something mislaid that soon she must discover, so the folk said: ‘Would that the Valar would lift the spell that lies upon Níniel (Pg 101).'”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week, we continue with Túrin’s tale as it turns from dark to strange and learn how his bad decisions lead to his next tragedy.
This portion of the tale switches gears and focuses on Túrin’s mother, Mavwin, and his sister, Nienóri. We know already from the previous portions of the story that Mavwin and Nienóri left Hislómë and went down to try and find Túrin in Tinwelint’s hidden home, but when they got there, they found that Túrin had fled.
“Now the tale tells not the number of days that Turambar sojourned with the Rodothlim but these were many, and during that time Nienóri grew to the threshold of womanhood (pg92).”
Being a young lady, Nienóri would not accept being a ward of Brodda, so she convinced her mother that she would join Mavin on the sojourn to Tinwelint and to find her long-lost older brother.
They went through perils to get there, braving the creatures of the wilds, and then when they finally reached the Elven home, they found that Túrin was gone. They received conflicting reports that he was either dead or had been captured by Orcs and was made a thrall, like his father before him.
They soon find that the Foalókë (dragon) Glorund is in the area and might have Túrin in his grasp, so Mavwin and Nienóri steel themselves and head out to face the Foalókë and try to save him.
During this time, there were some exciting transitions that Tolkien was still working through (which is apparent in the notes). Túrin had changed his name to Turambar (or Mormakil) when he became an outlaw, which is at the same time Mavwin and Nienóri are looking for him. So when they questioned the people of the wood looking for Túrin, many of the Rodothlim they questioned didn’t know who Túrin was, because they only knew him as The Mormakil or Turambar. Without this comedy of errors, they wouldn’t have had to venture out and try to fight against Glorund because Turambar (as we’ll call him moving forward) had already escaped.
But alas, they sought the Foalókë and were caught in his glamor: “‘Seek not to cajole me, woman,’ sneered that evil one. ‘Liever would I keep they daughter and slay thee or send thee back to thy hovels, but I have need of neither of you.’ With those words, he opened full his evil eyes, and a light shone in them, and Mavwin and Nienóri quaked beneath them, and a swoon came upon their minds, and them seemed that they groped in endless tunnels of darkness, and there they found not one another ever again, and calling only vain echoes answered, and there was no glimmer of light (pg 99).”
Oof. This passage is probably as close to horror as anything in Tolkien. The dragon has put their minds in a cage, and mother and daughter never see each other again. They don’t recognize each other, and this transcends into the rest of the story. We follow Nienóri as she leaves and ends up living with wood rangers. In the woods, “she seemed to herself to awake from dreams of horror nor could she recall them, but their dread hung dark behind her mind, and her memory of all past things was dimmed (pg 99).”
For the rest of the tale, Tolkien writes Nienóri in this fashion. Confused and haunted, as if something is beyond her understanding or grasp, and this confusion leads to Turambar’s next tragedy.
Turmabar eventually gets to the hovel where the wood rangers live and he sees a beautiful young woman whom he calls Níniel because she cannot remember her name. He calls her this because she is distraught and crying when he finds her, and Níniel means little one of tears.
Nienóri was just a baby the last time Turambar saw her, so he doesn’t recognize her, and there are copious liner notes from Tolkien himself which indicate how careful he needs to be, not to mention the name Túrin and give away the surprise. Because Turambar does not recognize her and Níniel does not remember her past, the two begin to court, which leads to the quote that opens this essay and Túrin’s next tragedy.
It seemed as though there was peace in Hisilómë, as The Foalókë didn’t know where they were hiding. For a time, there was prosperity, and “Like a king and queen did Turambar and Níniel become, and there was song and mirth in those glades of their dwelling, and much happiness in their halls. And Níniel conceived (pg 103).”
There is Turmabar’s fourth tragedy. Unbeknownst to him, he met a familiar and beautiful face in his sister, wooed and married her, then had a child through incest.
They lived in happy ignorance until a traitor found their home in the forest. Mîm the dwarf, known as Mîm the petty dwarf in The Silmarillion, betrayed their whereabouts.
The Foalókë charged out through the woods and smote some of the woodsmen. Turambar, being their chief, decided that he needed to do something.
“Now when Turambar made ready to depart then Níniel begged to ride beside him, and he consented, for he loved her and it was his thought that if he fell and the drake lived then might none of the people be saved, and he would liever have Níniel by him, hoping perchance to snatch her at least from the clutches of the worm, by death at his own or one of his liege’s hands (pg 104).”
His decision seemed to be sound reasoning at the time, but they were against a terrible foe in Glorund, the Drake who glamorized his whole family, and his wife/sister was still under that glamor. If we know anything about Turambar’s life, we know what will come next.
Join me next week as we conclude Turambar’s tale!
Blind Read Through: The Book of Lost Tales, Part 2, Túrin’s Third Tragedy
“And thereupon Turambar leapt upon the high place and ere Brodda might foresee the act he drew Gurtholfin and seizing Brodda by the locks all but smote his head from his body, crying aloud: ‘So dieth the rich man who addeth the widow’s little to his much. Lo, men die not all in the wild woods, and am I not in truth the son of Úrin, who having sought back unto his folk findeth an empty hall despoiled (pg 90).'”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week, we delve back into Túrin’s story and reach a turning point in his life. In addition, we get to experience Túrin’s third tragedy.
We left off last week with Túrin leaning into the Outlaw mentality and choosing that lifestyle in the woods and wilds. As we’ve discussed, Túrin didn’t have the easiest childhood. His father was a thrall to Melko, as were many of his people, and his sister died young. Mavwin, Túrin’s mother, sent him to live with Tinwelint as a ward to that Elven King. He lived with this idea of being an orphan his entire life, even though his mother lived and gave birth to another sister.
In his head, Túrin always felt as though others were looking at him as an outsider, so when he killed Orgol (his first tragedy), he assumed that others were judging him based on his family. It isn’t until he kills Beleg (his second tragedy) that he begins to think less of himself and his contributions to society, so he begins to slide into being an outlaw.
Túrin does not account for the area’s history and how Melko had corrupted things. After we find out about his outlaw shift, there is a meeting with the Rodothlim. To rally them for battle, “for he lusted ever for war with the creatures of Melko (pg 83),” he called for them to: “Remember ye the Battle of Uncounted Tears and forget not your folk that there fell, nor seek ever to flee, but fight and stand (pg 83).”
Túrin needs to take a history lesson. The Battle of Unnumbered Tears (later called in The Silmarillion), also known as Nirnaeth Arnoediad, was so named because of the sheer amount of dead and the Doom of Mandos.
Mandos laid down that curse because the Noldori killed their kin to go after Melko and recover the Silmarils. In that titular curse, Mandos tells the Eldar, “Tears Unnumbered ye shall shed,” In this battle, also known as the Fifth battle in the wars of Beleriand, Morgoth gains ground and begins to take over the land.
So, while Túrin is internalizing the wrongs of his life and turning to violence to assuage his conscience, he forgets that everything that caused the issues was because of the Noldor, not because of him or his deeds, horrendous as they are.
So Túrin leaned into his anger and spoke to Orodreth, a smith, for a weapon because he could no longer touch the sword he killed Beleg with. This creation deviates from what the story later became because Orodreth and not Eöl fashioned Gurthang.
“Now then Orodreth let fashion for him a great sword, and it was made by magic to be utterly black save it’s 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 Túrin named it Gurtholfin the Wand of Death; and often that blade lept in his hand of its own lust, and it is said that at times it spake dark words to him (pg 83).”
Orodreth tried to speak against fighting against Melko’s armies, regretting his creation of the Wand of Death, but Túrin was both craving war and trying to atone for his past indiscretions, so he went out and fought every agent of Melko he could find. He became infamous, and it did not go past Melko’s sight. Melko released a great army, “and a great worm was with them whose scales were polished bronze and whose breath was a mingled fire and smoke, and his name was Glorund (pg 84).”
Glorund killed Orodreth, who, even on his death bed, reproached Túrin, blaming him for the destruction his range had caused. Túrin tried to fight, but the dragon had powers Túrin didn’t understand, and the drake charmed Túrin, holding him in place, while Failivrin waws carried away, crying out, “O Túrin Mormakil, where is thy heart; O my beloved, wherefore dost thou forsake me (pg 86).”
She didn’t understand that he had been charmed and thought he was letting the creatures kidnap her.
Túrin was trapped there with the mind games of Glorund until finally, the dragon set him free, allowing him to go after Failivrin or seek out his mother and sister, whom he only knew as a newborn.
He decides to go after his mother, only to find she has fled Dor Lómin. In her place, she left a local high-class man named Brodda to watch over her estate, but Brodda, seeing the wealth to be had, rebranded all her cattle and property as his own.
Túrin had already killed, and now he had someone directly blame him for their misfortune (in Orodreth), and he chose the wrong path to find his mother, succumbing to Melko and Glorung’s deception.
It is at this point that Túrin forsakes morality. He is no longer trying to be an upstanding citizen. Even in his outlaw stage, his actions were to help and save others. It is here that we get the quote at the beginning of this essay, and it is here that we see Túrin’s next tragedy. He has given into his anger and hate, gone over to the dark side (forgive the crossover), and decided to go with full-fledged murder.
Moving forward in his story, he is still an outlaw, but he is no longer an outlaw for the good of the people. He is now an outlaw hell-bent on his emotional trajectory.
Join me next week as we continue on Túrin’s journey!
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 2, Túrin’s first tragedy
“To ease his sorrow and the rage of his heart, that remembered always how Úrin and his folk had gone down in battle against Melko, Túrin was for ever ranging with the mosst warlike of the folk of Tinwelint far abroad, and long ere he was grown to first manhood he slew and took hurts in frays with the Orcs that prowled unceasingly upon the confines of the realm and were a menace to the Elves (pg 74).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week, we begin to learn a bit about Túrin and experience his first tragedy of character while trying to understand Tolkien’s purpose in the themes of this tale.
Tolkien spends much of his time in this early version of Turmabar, striving to show the differences between Men and Elves (the more Tolkien created, the less he described Elves as Gnomes. It seems like he started to think of Gnomes as anything fay-like, as the moniker became a catch-all). Men tended to be less unkempt, more creatures of passion, whereas Elves were much better groomed and stoic.
Through this time, Tolkien was still developing his story, language, world, and its peoples, and these lost tales were written as an exploratory first draft to get the world out of his head and onto paper, but, as evidenced by The Silmarillion, Tolkien was not happy with these early drafts. They lacked cohesion and a thematic goal.
An example of this is as follows: “Now Túrin lying continually in the woods and travailing in far and lonely places grew to be uncouth of raiment and wild of locks, and Orgol made jest of him whensoever the twain sat at the king’s board; but Túrin said never a word to his foolish jesting, and indeed at no time did he give much heed to words that were spoken to him, and the eyes beneath his shaggy brows oftentimes looked as to a great distance (pg75).”
Túrin is a Man (as in every other Blind Read; read this as Human whenever capitalized), and Men are described as much more feral creatures. This classification was the original intent of Men, specifically because of Tolkien’s experiences in The Great War, he distrusted human instinct and saw humans as impetuous and violent creatures. Violent and feral is a very apt description of how Túrin (and almost every other Human in this story thus far) is described. He is animalistic; he “seemed to see far things and to listen to sounds of the woodland that others heard not (pg 75).” “He was moody (pg 75).”
One function of this could be because the majority of Men in these early stories that came from Hithlum were captured by Melko and held as thralls and slaves for many years, and Túrin (in The Book of Lost Tales, not The Silmarillion) is no exception, but more realistically Tolkien initially created Men this way because they were not born of the gods the way the Eldar were. Their lives are short; thus, they are much more emotional and prone to reaction because they need to feel the depths of emotion and experience much quicker than their immortal brethren.
This version of Turambar is much less tragic and much more vicious. Orgof, the Eldar we saw above who was a playground bully of Túrin, takes the place of Saeros. In the later Silmarillion version, Saeros is still a bully, but when Túrin finds him in the wilds, he turns the tide and strips Saeros naked, intending to embarrass the bully. Saeros, terrified, tries to jump a Fjord and falls to his death. This accidental death is the first event that makes Túrin an outlaw, but in this version, nearly everyone in Doriath sympathizes with Túrin and tries to get him to come back, but his conscience is what pushes him further into exile.
This earlier version is entirely different:
“Then a fierce anger born of his sore heart, and these words concerning the lady Mavwin blazed suddenly in Túrin’s breast so that he seized a heavy drinking vessel of gold that lay by his right hand and, unmindful of his strength, he cast it with great force in Orgof’s teeth, saying: ‘Stop thy mouth therewith, fool, and prate no more.’ But Orgof’s face was broken and he fell back with great weight, striking his head upon the stone of the floor and dragging upon him the table and all it’s vessels, and he spake nor prated again, for he was dead (pg 75).”
Túrin’s actions were murder in this earlier version. It was an act of a feral and impetuous being, as we should expect from any Human in these early tales of Tolkien.
To take that a step further and show the difference between Elves and Men, Tinwelint and his court show incredible understanding. “Yet they did not seek his harm, although he knew it not, for Tinwelint despite his grief and the ill deed pardoned him, and the most of his folk were with him in that, for Túrin had long held his peace or returned courtesy to the folly of Orgof (pg 76).”
Meanwhile, Túrin runs away and joins a group of people in the woods described as “wild spirits (pg76).” Again, Túrin is a Human and feeds into his animalistic tendencies. His emotions are so high that he cannot understand that there could be clemency for him in Doriath because he does not hold any for himself. His emotions again overpower him, and he runs off to the only place where he feels at home, in the forest with ruffians.
This kind of childish behavior is endemic to Men in early Tolkien, and it isn’t until the later versions (I believe The Silmarillion is either the Third or Fourth draft) that they begin to get more depth and character. The whole point of these stories evolved from being a general history of our world to actual ages of time, and this time was the Age of the Eldar. Tolkien’s main goal, however, was leading his fairy tale, through Eriol and The Cottage of Lost Play, to the fourth Age. The Age of Men.
Join me next week as we introduce one of The Silmarillion’s best characters, Beleg, and discover Túrin’s second tragic act.
Somebody’s Watching Me
“And I don’t feel safe anymore,” Andy said. “And I have no privacy.”
“Dude, you gotta get over that shit!” Randy responded. “No one’s after you. You’re the most boring person in the damn world, man!”
“Seriously, dude, you gotta knock off the weed. That shit’s making you paranoid,” Chet added.
They sat around a roaring fire while they waited for the girls to freshen up in the cabin. Randy had already broken into the bottle of whipped cream Vodka and passed it to Chet.
“I’m not kidding, guys! I came home the other day with scratches on my front door. Like deep fucking grooves, man.” Andy shook his head. He didn’t tell his friends that the word “Queer” was carved into his front door. That wasn’t something you said to the captain of the wrestling team and the most popular kid in high school.
“Naw man, someone’s just playing a prank on you,” Randy said. “I mean, you hang with us. Who’s gunna fuck with you?”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Chet laughed, smacking the bottle from his lips and slapping Randy’s palm.
“Are you boys done feeling each other up? It’s bad enough you roll around with each other while you wear tights,” it was Dolly Pemberton. She was the quintessential high school prom queen, with her perfect form and blonde hair.
She was flanked by Danielle Harris and Raquel Thorne, both probably more attractive than their more popular counterpart but less confident and thus beholden to their jerky friend who would be willing to throw either of them under the bus at the first possibility.
“Just get over here and take a swig,” Randy said, holding the bottle to Dolly. When she reached out for it, he held true to his name and pulled her to him, grabbed her ass, and gave her a horribly messy kiss, which she leaned into.
“Ugh, you guys,” Raquel sneered, pointing at Randy and Dolly. “are gross. Chet, babe, lets get outta here.”
“You ain’t gotta tell me twice,” Chet said, getting up and grabbing a six-pack. “You boys,” He said and winced at the sucking noises from Randy and Dolly. “Ok, you,” he turned and pointed at Andy, “have a good night and forget about that shit man. We’re out in the middle of nowhere. Ain’t no one coming out here. Let’s go baby.”
Chet and Raquel walked off arm in arm, leaving Danielle alone beside Andy.
“Hey Andy,” Danielle said, tucking her hair behind her right ear.
“Hey Danielle. Hey do you ever feel like someone is watching you?” Andy said.
“I wish,” She whispered to her intertwined hands in her lap.
“Say what?” Andy said, oblivious and confused.
“Nothing,” Danielle started, then looked him in the eyes. “You know what? Fuck it. I don’t feel that way and I want to. Let’s go.”
Danielle stood up and mocked throwing up at the sucking and smacking sounds of Randy and Dolly, and grabbed Andy’s hand.
“Oh, ok, where we going?” Andy asked.
“Well, they’re by the fire,” Danielle pointed at the two grossly inexperienced teens sucking faces near the fire. “and the other two went to the cabin, so there’s nowhere to go but the van.”
“You got it,” Andy said, too flabbergasted and embarrassed to deny her.
“Did you hear that?” Holly said, pulling away from Randy. It took an effort to separate, and she had to hit him a little to make him stop.
“Babe, you’re killing the mood,” Randy whined.
“I heard something. Like a growl. Besides, Tom Bunyan couldn’t bring down that wood,” Holly gestured to Randy’s crotch and pushed away from him.
“The growl was me,” Randy said and playfully snapped his teeth.
“No, you idiot, it came from the woods. Like, over there somewhere,” Dolly said, extricating herself from Randy’s claws.
“Fuck babe, come on, just give me at least a handy and we’ll go look together. Probably some rabbit or something,” Randy whined.
“I didn’t bring my tweezers, you dick,” Dolly said, squinting into the forest.
“At least I have one,” Randy retorted, then scrunched his face, realizing what he said.
“There’s something out there,” Dolly said. She took a few steps away from the fire. “Don’t you see that? It looks like a person wearing an apron.”
“Naw, babe, nothing th…” Randy was interrupted by another growl. This time, it was much louder and much closer.
“For sure there is something out there,” Dolly said, moving out into the woods.
“Babe, uh, don’t go out there,” Randy said. He put a hand over his erection like it needed protection more than he did.
“Hey! You in the apron! What are you doing out here?” Dolly said. Randy looked at what she was walking towards and saw it clear as day. It looked like someone wearing a stained apron standing about 200 yards away.
“Fuck, babe, get back here, you don’t know what the fuck they want,” Randy said.
“What the fuck do you want?” Dolly said, breaking into a run towards the apron.
“Babe, fucking stop!” Randy cried, standing next to the fire.
Dolly made her way out to the figure and stopped. Her laughter echoed in the forest. She turned back to Randy.
“It’s just an apron on a bush! It’s not a person!” Dolly said, then lifted her hand and pointed at Randy. “HOLY SHIT!”
“What?” Randy said, then heard a snap of a twig behind him. He turned in just enough time to see a horribly disfigured face moan and a machete swing down. He saw the treetops and the sky, then he saw the ground. It spun like that a few times until the oxygen ran out in his brain, and his eyes stopped working.
Dolly screamed louder than she ever had as the figure kicked Randy’s severed head into the fire and walked steadily towards her.
“What was that?” Raquel gasped, coming up for air from Chet’s mouth.
“Come on, babe, I didn’t hear anything,” Chet said, reaching around her back to unhook her bra. This was the fourth time he tried.
“No, seriously, Chet,” She slapped at his hands and sat up in bed. Moonlight streamed in through the warped glass of the cabin window and created strange shadows she hadn’t seen before.
“Babe, what the fuck? Just come back to bed, I got a hard-on, and it’s not going away on its own. Don’t tease me like that,” Chet whined, sitting on the bed.
“I think that was Dolly,” Raquel stood up, walked over to the window, and looked into the moonlit forest. “It’s so shadowy out there. I could have sworn she screamed.”
“Ugh! This ain’t cool, Raquel,” Chet stood up and took a few steps toward her but stopped beside the closet.
“I don’t care Chet. I have to go help my friend,” Raquel said and turned around. Chet was standing there with a surprised look on his face. His mouth was slightly ajar, and his eyes were unfocused, but he just stood there with his hands at his sides.
Shadows played across the room, and the closet door opened slightly more than it already had. But that’s strange, she thought. The closet door was closed just a minute ago.
Blood began to run out of the corner of Chet’s mouth as his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Chet?” Raquel took a step toward him.
His neck bulged strangely until something shiny poked its way through. Raquel couldn’t process what she saw until Chet fell forward, and a black-clad figure stood behind him, holding a large knife covered in dark blood.
Raquel screamed and fell to her knees. Pooled blood ran over her brown skin.
The hooded figure stepped forward, grabbed her hair, and pulled her neck back, exposing dark wine colored hickeys.
“You? Why?” Raquel cried.
The only response she got was a gravelly laugh before the knife tip entered her ear canal.
“Andy? Did you hear that?” Danielle turned in her seat to look out through the forest. They were sitting next to each other in the van’s back seat.
“Yeah, I did,” Andy said, looking scared and fiddling with his hands in his lap. “Danielle,” he began, “Do you ever feel like someone is watching you?”
“What? Hey Andy, I think we should probably go check on everyone else. That sounded like a scream.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Andy said and sighed. “I just feel like there is someone always watching me. Like following me. I can’t even take a shower, because I feel like when I open my eyes someone will be standing there.”
“Andy, that sounds pretty fucking deep, but if Randy is raping someone out there…” Danielle began.
“He’s not, you don’t have to worry about that,” Andy said, putting his hand over hers as she tried to open the door to the van.
“What do you mean?” Danielle asked, looking back at Andy with concern in her eyes.
“I just don’t think Randy is in any kind of shape to rape anyone,” Andy said and sighed again.
“Andy…” Danielle began, putting her hand on his prying at his grip.
“People are watching everything I do. They scratched Queer into my front door. I mean, I know Randy is an asshole, but how the hell did he even know?”
“Andy, come on! No on thinks you’re gay,” Danielle said, the first look of concern for Andy crossed her face.
“That’s just it, Danielle,” Andy said, leaning in and grabbing her shoulders. Behind her in the forest, a hooded figure approached the van. “People have been watching me and they know about things that I’ve done and the people I’ve done it with.”
“Andy, what the fuck are you talking about?” Danielle cried. The figure stood right behind her outside of the van window.
“Danielle,” Andy said, grabbing her head and tilting his forehead to touch hers while looking into her eyes. “Don’t fuck with me, I know Randy told you all.”
“Fuck, no one cares Andy! So you messed around with another guy! No one cares!” Danielle squeaked as tears rolled from her eyes.
“I care,” Andy said, throwing her against the window just as the glass burst open and a knife slid across her throat.
“We can be together forever now, love,” Jason said as he removed the bloodstained hood. He leaned over and kissed Andy.
“No one can know,” Andy said.
“Babe? What do you…” Jason began as the echo of a pistol echoed in the forest night air. Jason’s head snapped backward, and his hands flew into the air as he fell back to the ground, the butcher knife in his hand.
Andy looked at him briefly, tilted his head, and then smiled. He took a deep breath and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. He began to sob hysterically, then typed 911.
“Please help me! Someone has been watching me, following me. They killed all my friends. I shot him, oh my god I shot him…”
Andy hung up and immediately stopped sobbing. He smiled down at the two corpses by his feet he felt himself growing with arousal, but then turned and looked out into the forest with gritted teeth. He had a sneaking suspicion that someone was watching him.
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 2, Tale of Tinúviel, commentary
“In the old story, Tinúviel had no meetings with Beren before the day when he boldly accosted her at last, and it was at that very time that she led him to Tinwelint’s cave; they were not lovers, Tinúviel knew nothing of Beren bu that he was enamoured of her dancing, and it seems that she brought him before her father as a matter of courtesy, the natural thing to do (pg 52).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week, we’ll briefly cover Christopher’s commentary on The Tale Of Tinúviel and give some final thoughts on the story.
Much of what Christopher covers (Christopher is J.R.R. Tolkien’s son and editor. This book is posthumously published, and Christopher both compiled it and edited it) in his lengthy comments following the Tale of Tinúviel are the same or very similar to everything that I have covered in the previous Blind Reads, so we’ll speak about the most critical insights and give some context.
Before we jump into that, however, Christopher included a second draft (or at least pieces) of The Tale of Tinúviel just after the first edition and before his comments.
“This follows the manuscript version closely or very closely on the whole, and in no way alters the style or air of the former; it is, therefore, unnecessary to give this second version in extenso (pg 41).”
The most significant change that I noticed was the nomenclature. The forest’s name changed to Doriath, and the names Melian and Thingol are introduced here for the first time.
We also have the adjustment of Beren’s father from Egnor to Barahir and Angamandi to Angband. Most importantly, we first mention Melko as Morgoth (The Sindarin word for Melkor).
This last adjustment may seem like an alteration of monikers to streamline the narrative; however, knowing how The Silmarillion was published and the extensive lists of names, not to mention the number of names in each language many of the characters had, we know he did this intentionally.
Many people assume (and rightly so because the theory has become so ubiquitous) that Tolkien built a language (Elvish) and then developed a story and world based on that language. This theory makes a certain amount of sense because he was a linguist. Still, read these books (or, more importantly, Christopher’s annotation). You’ll understand that the world-building and the language came conjointly because of Tolkien’s desire to tell a fairy tale that would become England’s own. It was all supposed to start with this first story: The Tale of Tinúviel.
The names evolved because Tolkien was developing his language and the world the story took place in, and the names he originally used no longer made sense.
A prime example of this is in the second version of the story, “Beren addresses Melko as ‘most mighty Belcha Morgoth (pg 67).'” I’ll let Christopher explain:
“In the Gnomish dictionary Belcha is given as the Gnomish form corresponding to Melko, but Morgoth is not found in it: indeed this is the first and only appearance of the name in the Lost Tales. The element goth is given in the Gnomish dictionary with the meaning ‘war, strife’; but if Morgoth meant at this period ‘Black Strife’ it is perhaps strange that Beren should use it in flattering speech. A name-list made in the 1930s explains Morgoth as ‘formed from his Orc-name Goth ‘Lord of Master’ with mor ‘dark or black’ prefixed, but it seems very doubtful that this etymology is valid for the earlier period (pg 67).”
Tolkien was evolving and creating new languages for the Eldar and the Orcs, Dwarves, and Valar. Beyond that, he was developing dialects within these languages, so a Sindarin name would be different from a Noldoli name, which is where many people get confused about the number of names in The Silmarillion and how the rumor got started that Tolkien created the languages first and the world second. The above quote is the irrefutable proof (not to mention the extensive changes to The Lost Tales).
We can see the linguistic changes Tolkien is making, which in turn changes the story’s core, but there is some very interesting world-building that Tolkien has done in the augments between drafts.
The first example surrounds the Simarils; “The Silmarils are indeed famous, and they have a holy power, but the fate of the world is not bound up with them (pg 53).”
Tolkien understood the Maguffin (a plot device that sets the characters into motion and drives the story) early on. Still, his original intention was to tell the tale of two lovers, he and Edith, but in the names of Beren and Lúthien (Tinúviel). What he came to realize as he went through drafts and started to build the history of the world (this second version was also the first mention of Turgon the King of Gondolin because Tolkien had begun working on the story The Fall of Gondolin before he went back to the second draft of the Tale of Tinúviel), was that there needed to be a through line to bring the different tales together into one single history, rather than having a bunch of disparate short stories spattered throughout history. The Silmarils became that Maguffin. They grew in mystery and power in his mind. The tale of Valinor became the precursor and introduction to the power that the Silmarils contained so that they might tell a much larger story and have the whole of the world seeking the power they held (much like the One Ring in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings).
The Tale of Tinúviel is a fascinating addition to the Legendarium, but it does feel a little one-note beside its later counterpart, Of Beren and Lúthien. What is most interesting is the fairy tale manner in which Tolkien tells the tale. The first big bad we see is a cat who captures our hero and makes him hunt for them because they’re lazy cats. This anthropomorphized creature is a common theme in fairy tales, and Tevildo never truly poses a real threat, especially when Huan the Hound shows up. Then, when Tinwelint imprisons Tinúviel in a tall tower to keep her from going after her love, we get impressions of all the old Anderson Fairy Tales. In this early version, it is apparent that Tolkien was going for a fairy tale vibe (which in fact was his original intention before realizing that he wanted to make it more realistic, more gritty), but instead of eventually disneyfying it, he went deeper and darker and turned the tale into something bold and breathtaking, and seeing the transformation is something to behold.
We’ll take a week off before returning to the next story, “Turambar and the Foalókë.”
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 2; The Tale of Tinúviel, cont.
“Now all this that Tinúviel spake was a great lie in whose devising Huan had guided her, and maidens of the Eldar are not wont to fashion lies; yet have I never heard that any of the Eldar blamed her therein nor beren afterward, and neither do I, for Tevildo was an evil cat and Melko the wickedest of all beings, and Tinúviel was in dire peril at their hands (pg 27).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! We left off last week with Beren getting captured by Tevildo, Prince of Cats, and Lúthien escaping the tower her father imprisoned her in to go and find and free Beren from his thralldom.
Before the story, let’s review what happened in The Silmarillion.
Lúthien escaped from Doriath and chased after Beren, but where there are cats in The Book of Lost Tales, The Silmarillion had Wolves. Beren was captured by Sauron, the Master of Wolves (many of his minions in this story were werewolves, and he even commanded the Wolf King Carcharoth), and on her way to find him, Lúthien meets up with Huan, the Hound of Valinor.
Huan takes Lúthien to his masters, Celegorm and Curufin, who were Fëanor’s sons (Eldar who swore to get the Silmarils back at the cost of all else). The Book of Lost Tales is a significant departure from the older story because these two brothers played a nefarious role in the remaining history of Beleriand. They caused strife and trouble for our heroes many times and generally stood in the way only because of their oath, and they never appear in the earlier version.
This deception is the first instance of their devious natures. They instructed Huan to bring Lúthien before them and once there, Celegorm devised a plan to marry her because of her beauty, but more importantly because of her lineage. Celegorm was seeking power, plain and simple. He tricks Lúthien, brings her to Nargothrond, and imprisons her until his plan can be complete.
Here, Huan felt pity for Lúthien, who only wanted to save her love, and felt disgust for his master. Huan frees Lúthien, leading her to Angband to confront Sauron and free Beren.
When they get there, Sauron sends his werewolves out to kill them, but Huan kills them one by one. Sauron then shapeshifts and changes himself into a werewolf (doubtless being one of those quintessential bad guys who say, “If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.”), and heads out to meet them. There is a pitched battle, with Sauron changing into different shapes and trying other tactics. Still, eventually, Huan defeats him, and Sauron flees in the form of a Vampire after leaving the keys to the prisons for Huan and Lúthien to take.
This fight shows the absolute power of Huan. Sauron gained strength and influence over the remaining years of his life, but the fact that Huan and Lúthien were able to best him in battle when, later on, it took armies to stand up to him is a testament to Huan’s strength and Lúthien’s ingenuity.
They freed Beren and fled Angband, only to come across our favorite dastardly Eldar, Celegorm, and Curufin. They battled, and Beren won, deepening their shame and anger. Not only were the great sons of Fëanor defeated, but a human bested them to boot!
Beren then snuck back to Angband after both Huan and Lúthien slept, determined to get the Simaril and prove his worthiness, but when they woke and found him gone, they disguised themselves as a vampire and werewolf and went after him. They got to Morgoth’s chambers, and Lúthien used her magic to put everyone to sleep and Beren cut a Silmaril from Morgoth’s crown before escaping from the stronghold.
As they exited, Carcharoth, the King of Wolves jumped out and attacked them, biting off Beren’s hand that held the Silmaril and thus halting their quest. Huan summoned The Eagles of Manwë (you might remember these majestic creatures from the end of The Return of the King when they rescued Frodo and Sam from Mount Doom), and they escaped from Angband.
In The Book of Lost Tales, Sauron is not present. Instead, it’s Tevildo who has Beren captured. Lúthien still meets up with Huan, but we have a sort of natural cat-and-dog relationship there:
“None however did Tevildo fear, for he was as strong as any among them, and more agile and more swift save only than Huan Captain of Dogs. So swift was Huan that on a time he had tasted the fur of Tevildo, and though Tevildo had paid him for that with a gash from his great claws, yet was the pride of the Price of Cats unappeased and he lusted to do a great harm to Huan of the Dogs (pg 21).”
Tinúviel travels with Huan to Angamandi (the early version of Angband) and finds a resting cat sentry just before its gates. Tinúviel asks to speak with Tevildo and plays to the guard’s pride to get her in to gain an audience.
When she is brought before Tevildo, she asks to speak with him privately, but he is not humored:
“‘Nay, get thee gone,’ said Tevildo, ‘thou smellest of dog, and what news of good came ever to a cat from a fairy that had dealings with dogs (pg 24)?”
Tinúviel sweet-talks her way in and spies Beren in the kitchen doing his thrall duties. She speaks loudly, letting Beren know that she’s there, and then we get the opening quote of this essay, where she divulges Huan’s plan: Huan is hurt and helpless just outside in the forest, the cats must kill him!
“Now the story of Huan and his helplessness so pleased him (Tevildo) that he was fain to believe it true, and determined at least to test it; yet at first he feigned indifference (pg 27).”
Tevildo and a small group of Cats went out to try and end Huan, only to fall into the trap. Huan killed all but Tevildo, who barely escaped and lost his golden collar before fleeing up a tree.
Tinúviel took the golden collar and brought it before Tevildo’s court and got all of his prisoners released, along with a curiously named Gnome.
“Lo, let all those of the folk of the Elves or of the children of Men that are bound within these halls be brought forth,’ and behold, Beren was brought forth, but of other thralls there were none, save only Gimli, an aged Gnome, bent in thraldom and grown blind, but whose hearing was the keenest that has been in the world, as all songs say (pg 29).”
This name was undoubtedly used again once the languages were fleshed out and Tolkien realized that Gimli was much more of a dwarven name than an Elvish name, but he doesn’t appear again in this story (that I’ve read so far), so I think it was just a name Tolkien loved.
Lúthien, Beren, and Huan escaped, and the cats were ashamed. Morgoth’s anger was so great that they lost face, and the power of the cats was never the same from then on.
We’re getting close to the end! Join me as we cover the first written ending to The Tale of Tinúviel next week!
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 2; Beren and Lúthien
“One day he was driven by a great hunger to search amid a deserted camping of some Orcs for scraps of food, but some of these returned unawares and took him prisoner, and they tormented him but did not slay him, for thier captain seeing his strength, worn through he was with hardships, thought that Melko might perchance be pleasured if he was brought before him and might set him to some heavy thrall-work in his mines or in his smithies. So came it that Beren was dragged before Melko, and he bore a stout heart within him nonetheless, for it was belief among his father’s kindred that the power of Melko would not abide for ever, but the Valar would hearken at last to the tears of the Noldoli, and would arise and bind Melko and open Valinor once more to the weary Elves, and great joy should come back upon Earth (Pg 14-15).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we travail the beginning of the quest for a Silmaril and the humble beginnings of the story in The Book of Lost Tales.
We left off last week with Beren heading out to get the Silmaril from Melkor’s crown to curry favor of Tinwelint and acquire Tinúviel’s hand in marriage. Immediately Beren is in dangerous land:
“Many poisonous snakes were in those places and wolves roamed about, and more fearsome still were the wandering bands of the goblins and the Orcs – foul broodlings of Melko who fared abroad doing his evil work, snaring and capturing beasts, and Men, and Elves, and dragging them to their lord (pg 14).”
Beren was nearly captured by Orcs numerous times, battling all manner of creatures on his way to Angamandi (Melkor’s hold in the Iron Mountains). “Hunger and thirst too tortured him often, and often he would have turned back had not that been well neigh as perilous as going on (pg 14).”
These travels lead us right to the quote that opens this essay. Beren angered Melkor because he represented the kinship between Elves and Men “and said that evidently here was a plotter of deep treacheries against Melko’s lordship, and one worthy of the tortures of Balrogs (pg 15).”
Beren gave Melkor a speech that seemed inspired by the Valar and moved Melkor. Rather than killing him, Melkor decided that he should be sent to the kitchen and become a Thrall of Tevildo, Prince of Cats.
I want to step back here and review what changes Tolkien made to the tale over time.
The framework of the story is the same; however, In The Silmarillion, Beren left Neldoreth (The forests of Thingol and Melian) and made his way to Nargothrond to garner the help of Finrod Felagund, Elven King. He recalled Finrod’s vow to help Barahir’s (Beren’s father) kin, and Finrod agreed to help Beren in his quest for the Silmaril.
Finrod gathered a group and disguised them all as Orcs to get close to Angband, but Sauron, the future Dark Lord, became suspicious of the group and captured them. He sent them to a deep pit and sent werewolves to kill them, which Finrod killed with his bare hands. However, he was mortally wounded and thus ended one of the great Elven Kings of legend.
Tolkien’s process of bringing in Finrod fills out the whole Legendarium much more because The Book of Lost Tales is just that, tales; disparate and singular. These are a collection of stories rattling around in Tolkien’s head which built the history of a world, but he needed connective tissue (and a lot of editing) to bring everything together.
Finrod and Fëanor’s sons, Curufin and Celegorm, become the connective tissue, rather than Tevildo, the Lord of Cats, who doesn’t appear beyond The Book of Lost Tales.
So now that Beren is in captivity, Lúthien can feel that something has gone wrong, so she goes to her mother Gwendeling (Melian) and asks her to use her magic and see if Beren still lives:
“‘He lives indeed, but in an evil captivity, and hope is dead in his heart, for behold, he is but a slave in the power of Tevildo Prince of Cats (pg 17).'”
So she went to her Father, Tinwelint, who was angered that she would want to go after Beren. She also asked her brother Dairon, who scoffed at the idea of her heading off into the wilds, so he went to Tinwelint and tattled on his sister (Daeron in The Silmarillion was an unrequited lover instead of brother, and went to Thingol (Tinwelint) to stop her, and hopefully save her. Tinwelint, in his anger, put her as far away from danger as punishment as he could:
“Now Tinwelint let build high up in that strange tree, as high as men could fashion thier longest ladders to reach, a little house of wood, and it was above the first branches and was sweetly veiled in leaves (pg 18).”
Stuck in the tree, with servants bringing her food and water and then removing the ladders so she couldn’t follow, Tinúviel’s yearning for Beren grew. She stayed up there for a while until she got a vision from the Valar that Beren was still alive and held in captivity, a thrall to Tevildo tasked with hunting for the great cats. Horrified that he was there because of her, and more importantly, the love that kept growing because she could not stop thinking of him, she devised a plan.
“Now Tinúviel took the wine and water when she was alone, and singing a very magical song the while, she mingled them together, and as they lay in the bowl of gold she sang a song of growth, and as they lay in the bowl of silver she sang another song, and the names of all the tallest and longest things upon Earth were set in that song… and last and longest of all she spake of the hair of Uinen the lady of the sea that is spread through all the waters (pg 19-20).”
Remember that the whole point of writing these tales was to build a mythology for England. You can see from reading them that Tolkien was heavily influenced by other fairy tales he read, both in preparation and for study.
Tinúviel rubbed her head in the mixture, and her hair grew to great length, much like Rapunzel did to escape her tower.
Unlike Rapunzel, Tinúviel fashioned a rope out of her hair. She refused anyone from coming up to her little tree house until she finished. Then dressed in a black cloak, she escaped and headed north to go and rescue Beren.
This part of Lúthien’s story is the tale of Rapunzel, except that Tolkien flipped the script and created a strong woman to go and rescue her man.
Join me next week as we continue the story, find the differences with The Silmarillion, and generally have a great time!
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 2, Beren’s Beginnings
“‘Why! wed my Tinúviel fairest of the maidens of the world, and become a prince of the woodland Elves – ’tis but a little boon for a stranger to ask,’ quoth Tinwelint. ‘Haply I may with right ask somewhat in return. Nothing great shall it be, a token only of thy esteem. Bring me a Silmaril from the Crown of Melko, and that day Tinúviel weds thee, an she will (pg 13).'”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we dive into the Tale of Tinúviel, discover the differences between The Book of Lost Tales and The Silmarillion, as we begin one of Tolkien’s greatest tales.
We left off last week setting the stage for how Tolkien adjusted over time to have the story fit into his Legendarium. This week, we’re going to learn a bit more about Beren and get started on the tale itself!
Tolkien begins the tale with the lineage of Tinúviel and Dairon, as discussed last week, and then transitions into the story itself. “On a time of June they were playing there, and the white umbrels of the hemlocks were like a cloud about the boles of the trees, and there Tinúviel danced until the evening faded late, and there were many white moths abroad (pg 10).”
This play was a favorite pastime for both Tinúviel and Dairon. Dairon would play his music, and his sister would dance and sing like a nightingale in the forests of what would eventually be known as Doriath.
“Now Beren was a Gnome, son of Egnor the forester who hunter in the darker places in the north of Hisilómë. Dread and suspicion was between the Eldar and those of thier kindred that had tasted the slavery of Melko, and in this did the evil deeds of the Gnomes at the Haven of the Swans revenge itself (pg 11).”
Beren’s Genesis is an exciting story because while Tolkien was developing it early on, Beren was an elf (or, as Tolkien called them in The Book of Lost Tales, Gnomes).
The reason I chose the above quote was twofold. The first is the change of who Beren’s father was. In the Silmarillion, Beren is the son of Barahir and a descendant of Bëor, who was the leader of the first Men to come to Beleriand.
Barahir was a noble Man (When I capitalize “Man,” I’m using it in Tolkien’s manner, meaning human) who rescued Finrold Filagund from Dagor Bragollach (the Battle of Sudden Flame, otherwise known as the Fourth Battle of Beleriand), and received Finrold’s ring, which was later an heirloom of Isildur in Númenor.
In The Book of Lost Tales, Beren’s father is a Gnome named Egnor, who came to Beleriand early and became a thrall of Melkor. He eventually escaped and fathered Beren, but there was an intense distrust of any thrall of Melkor between the Gnomes.
So then Beren, when he comes across his Nightingale Tinúviel dancing in the forest, is the son of an outcast, which makes Tinwelint, Tinúviel’s father, very skeptical of him, because he is the son of someone who was a thrall of Melkor. Could that thralldom have been passed on? How could Tinwelint possibly trust him to be around his daughter?
Tolkien eventually wanted to change the storyline slightly, but the changes had the same effect. Beren became a Man instead of a Gnome, but Thingol was prejudiced against Men for two reasons. The first was because Men are attracted to power, and they woke after Melkor had done his earlier horrible deeds, so many Men latched onto his passion and became followers of Morgoth, the Dark Lord.
To the Elves, this was as bad or worse than thralldom. In the Silmarillion, it took many acts of Men to get Elves to trust them, and even then, they trusted the individual but still held a healthy distrust of the race.
The second reason Thingol didn’t like Beren and Lúthien’s connection was that Beren was a Man and thus mortal. If he let Lúthien fall in love with a mortal man, she would only have pain to look forward to because even though Men at this time in the Legendarium lived for over a hundred years, Elves were immortal. What was Lúthien to do when Beren died? We see this echo in The Lord of the Rings with Elrond as he speaks to Arwen about loving Aragorn.
So in both books, Tinwelint/Thingol makes a deal with Beren.
“‘Why! wed my Tinúviel fairest of the maidens of the world, and become prince of the woodland Elves – ’tis but a little boon for a stranger to ask,’ quoth Tinwelint. ‘Haply I may with right ask somewhat in return. Nothing great shall it be, a token only of thy esteem. Bring me a Silmaril from the Crown of Melko, and that day Tinúviel weds thee, an she will (pg 13).'”
Tinwelint knows that he is sending Beren off to his death. In the Book of Lost Tales, not a single Elf had gone up against Melkor because they knew him to be too powerful. Knowing that Beren’s father was a Thrall of Melkor, Tinwelint was probably hoping that Beren would have some genetic predisposition to stay under Melkor’s arm.
Nonetheless, Beren accepted:
“This indeed did Beren know, and he guessed the meaning of their mocking smiles, and aflame with anger he cried: ‘Nay, but tis too small a gift to the father of so sweet a bride. Strange nonetheless seem to me the customs of the woodland Elves, like the rude laws of the folk of Men, that thou shouldest name the gift unoffered, yet lo! I Beren, a huntsman of the Noldoli, will fulfil thy small desire,’ and with that he burst from the hall while all stood astonished (pg 13-14).”
Beren was off to go and collect the Silmaril, even though he knew it was a setup, but Tinwelint didn’t realize that as soon as night would fall, Tinúviel would steal away in the night to follow her love.
Join me next week as we continue the Tale of Tinúviel!
Blind Read Through: J.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 2, The Link of Tinúviel
“Then there was eagerness alight, and Eriol told them of his wanderings about the western havens, of the comrades he made and the ports he knew, of how he was wrecked upon far western islands until at last upon one lonely one he came on an ancient sailor who gave him shelter, and over a fire within his lonely cabin told him strange tales of things beyond the Western Seas, of the Magic Isles and that most lonely one that lay beyond. Long ago had he once sighted it shining afar off, and after had he sought it many a day in vain (pg 5).“
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we begin The Book of Lost Tales, part 2, with the story of Middle-earth, which was closest to Tolkien’s heart.
This story is the earliest written tale in the Legendarium, even earlier than the tales of Ilúvatar and the Valar. Tolkien wrote the first manuscript in 1917 amid the Great War, and I have to imagine that he did so because he wanted a release from the horrors of the war happening around him.
Tolkien wrote the Tale of Tinúviel about his wife, Edith Tolkien, and it is both a beautiful homage and the seed from which all Middle-earth blossoms.
Those who know the story of Beren and Lúthien realize it is the tale of a man who falls in love with the most beautiful elven maid alive. Not only is she beautiful and sings like a nightingale, but she is a strong woman, a warrior, and a leader. Tolkien has been very forthright with the fact that Lúthien is, in fact, Edith, and the story of Beren seeing Lúthien singing and dancing in the forest was a call back to their walks in the dense woods of England when they first met.
This also means that the world of Middle-earth that Tolkien built would not be possible without Edith. Everything that happens in the Legendarium stems from this first origin (though doubtless there are poems written before this story, this was the first instance Tolkien wrote a new world through the lens of prose instead of poetry). Lord of the Rings even stems from this story. It echoes in Aragorn and Arwen, the Third Age’s version of Beren and Lúthien. There is even a passage in The Lord of the Rings compares Aragorn and Arwen to Beren and Lúthien.
This love story was at the core of everything that Tolkien wrote, and he built the greater Legendarium to support the story of his love for his wife. Though the tale grew beyond this conception, it remains the core of everything in Middle-earth.
Reviewing this tale will take multiple weeks, so to kick it off, I’d like to start with Eriol’s story and the link between where we left off in The Book of Lost Tales, part 1. Also with where this book begins with The Tale of Tinúviel.
The tome takes up days after the events of Book of Lost Tales, part 1, with Eriol wandering in Kortirion, learning Elvish language and lore. One day as he is talking with a young girl and in a role reversal, she asks him for a tale:
“‘What tale should I tell, O Vëanne?’ said he, and she, clambering upon his knee, said : ‘A tale of Men and of childrren in the Great Lands, or of thy home – and didst thou have a garden there such as we, where poppies grew and pansies like those that grow in my corner by the Arbour of the Thrushes?'”
It may seem strange to call out this quote, but I do so because the passage ends here. Tolkien must have had the idea that Eriol would tell the history of Men, whereas the people of the Cottage of Lost Play would tell the story of the early times and the Elves.
Christopher gives a few different iterations of this interaction. Still, in every one of them, the story gets taken out of Eriol’s mouth as Vëanne interrupts him and begins the Lay of Lúthien (I.E., The Tale of Tinúviel).
I wonder if the intent was for Eriol to have his section of the book (which never actually happened) because Tolkien spends time here to set it up:
“‘I lived there but a while, and not after I was grown to be a boy. My father came of a coastward folk, and the love of the sea that I had never seen was in my bones, and my father whetted my desire, for he told me tales that his father had told him before (pg 5.)'”
The opening quote in this section talks about his “wanderings.” Before we get into the Tale of Tinúviel proper, there is also Eriol’s unwitting interaction with a Vala:
“‘For knowest thou not, O Eriol, that that ancient mariner beside the lonely sea was none other than Ulmo’s self, who appeareth not seldom thus to those voyagers whom he loves – yet he who has spoken with Ulmo must have many a tale to tell that will not be stale in the ears even of those that dwell here in Kortirion (Pg 7).'”
Eriol, to me, is a fascinating character because he has such a history, and he’s a mariner. If Tolkien created some stories from Eriol’s perspective, we might be able to see Middle-earth from a slightly different perspective, that of a sea-faring folk.
We know that all the history had come before this discussion. All of the first age (The Silmarillion) and the Second age (Akallabeth), and even the Third Age (The Lord of the Rings) came before Eriol’s time. So we can think of this soft opening in Kortirion as a Fourth Age, where Men (read Humans) run the world, the Elves have retreated to hidden Valinor, and much of the pain from the Dark Lord has disappeared, or at very least forgotten, from the world.
Join me next week as we start The Tale of Tinúviel!
Blind Read Through: J.R.R. Tolkien; The Book of Lost Tales, part 1; The Hiding of Valinor, part 2
“Thereat did Tulkas laugh, saying that naught might come now to Valinor save only by the topmost airs, ‘and Melko hath no power there; neither have ye, O little ones of the Earth’. Nonetheless at Aulë’s bidding he fared with that Vala to the bitter places of the sorrow of the Gnomes, and Aulë with the mighty hammer of his forge smote that wall of jagged ice, and when it was cloven even to the chill waters Tulkas rent it asunder with his great hands and the seas roared in between, and the land of the Gods was sundered utterly from the realms of the Earth (pg 210).”
Welcome back to another Blind Read! This week we conclude the tale of The Hiding of Valinor, as Tolkien delves deep into how he wanted to create the world.
This week is a perfect example of what a plotter writer does to create their world. Speaking from my own experience, worldbuilding is one of the hardest things to do as a writer because you want to thread the needle between creating a full, lush, believable world and muddling that same world with incessant useless details.
The Book of Lost Tales was never an actual book but a collection of notebooks, poems, anecdotes, and loose scrap paper Tolkien used to create his world over decades. From The Great War’s trenches to The Hobbit’s eventual publication, he filtered these notes to make what would later become The Silmarillion.
The Book of Lost Tales holds all the different cockamamie concepts which could comprise a fairy world. Christopher tells us many times that some of the detail has been cut because the text was re-written so many times (potentially multiple times in pencil and erased until Tolkien had a version he liked enough to write it out in pen… which many times was still not the last iteration)
What I’d like to cover this week for some fun differences is the detail Tolkien went to explain how the world came into being, which he later cut because much of it has little or nothing to do with the actual world.
The first instance I’d like to cover is the minutia of the Sun and the Moon route.
The Valar have a council for multiple pages concerning how they would go about hiding Valinor: “Nonetheless Manwë ventured to speak once more to the Valar, albeit he uttered no word of Men, and he reminded them that in their labours for the concealment of their land they had let slip from thought the waywardness of the Sun and the Moon (pg 214).”
We’ve previously discussed the path the Sun and the Moon had taken because of where different Valar (and Ungoliant) took up their residence. Still, they worry about “removing those piercing beams more far, that all those hills and regions of their abode be not too bringht illumined, and that none might ever again espy them afar off (pg 214).”
Yavanna worried that the change in the movement of the light from either the Sun or the Moon could create strife in the world, so Ulmo told them they had nothing to worry about. The Ocean is so large that the Valar don’t even fully comprehend its magnitude, nor have they ever interacted with any of the creatures of the world, “but Vai runneth from the Wall of Things unto the Wall of Things withersoever you may fare…ye know not all wonders, and many secret things are there beneath the Earth’s dark keel, even where I have my mighty halls of Ulmonan, that ye have never dreamed on (pg 214).”
Ulmo tells the other Valar they have nothing to worry about because the world is so vast that Ilúvatar’s children could never find them after centuries of looking. To counteract that worry, Ulmo and Aulë say they will build ships that can sail into Valinor so that Men and Eldar can come home.
The way Tolkien writes it, it’s unclear whether he means for the “children” to come home to heaven, or something a little more fairy tale-esque, like the Elysian Fields of Greek Mythology fame or Valhalla of the Norse. In any case, it’s a clunky bit of logic. I find it fascinating to see how Tolkien began devising the world, but I agree with Christopher that this level of detail is unnecessary for the greater story.
Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention one more cut—the creation of time.
“‘Lo, Danuin, Ranuin, and Fanuin are we called, and I am Ranuin, and Danuin has spoken.’ Then said Fanuin: ‘And we will offer thee our skill in your perplexity – yet who we are and whence we come or whither we go that we will tell to you only if ye accept our rede and after we have wrought as we desire (pg 217).'”
Instead of having time be attributed to the movement of the Sun and the Moon, Tolkien went much more mythological and created Tom Bombadil-type characters to create a way to understand the passing of time.
Danuin is the anthropomorphized concept of a Day, Ranuin is Month, and Fanuin is Year. They appear out of nowhere and approach the gods, offering gifts that later become this understanding of the passing of time.
Tolkien tells this tale at the end of the Hiding of Valinor because it is meant to be a passage of responsibility of the world to the next generation, the Eldar. The Valar are hiding away in Valinor, and the coming of these brothers created the concept of an “age.”
Before this moment, time didn’t exist, so the Valar just went about doing what they thought necessary, but this is also why the Eldar are immortal as well because they were born before time existed, men were born just after, so they were beholden to its aspect:
“Then were all the Gods afraid, seeing what was come, and knowing that hereafter even they should in counted time be subject to slow eld and their bright days to waning, until Ilúvatar at the Great End calls them back (pg 219).”
The brothers bestow this curse (or gift) of time and then say, “our job is done!” and peace out.
It’s curious how the brothers came into being, seeing as the Valar created everything in the world, but then again, there are deeper and unknown places in the world that others don’t know about, so this is a slight possibility; it’s just a clunky and unnecessary addition and one that even Christopher is glad he eventually cut:
“The conclusion of Vairë’s tale, ‘The Weaving of Days, Months, and Years’, shows (as it seems to me) my father exploring a mode of mythical imagining that was for him a dead end. In its formal and explicit symbolism it stands quite apart from the general direction of his thought, and he excised it without a trace (pg 227).”
Even Tolkien creates things where he looks back at it and realizes how out of sorts they are. Stand proud when you find mistakes because you know you FOUND them!
Join me next week as we jump into the last chapter of The Book of Lost Tales, part 1, “Gilfanon’s Tale: The Travail of the Noldoli and the Coming of Mankind.”
Elsie Jones and the AI debate!
Hey everyone! There is some new and mixed information about the publication of the first book and series. The first three books are written and nearly done being edited (in fact the first twelve books are written), and I’ve been playing around with artwork for a while now.
Because these first three books are going to be different than the originals (the first book will have a completely different plot, the second book will have minor changes, and the third book will be completely re-edited for content and be much longer), I originally wanted to get some new artwork for them so everyone would be able to tell the two different editions apart.
I reached out to a few people, but the price was either going to be too high, or the job was going to be too encompassing. Kind of like signing on to a Marvel character knowing that you have to be involved for the next ten years of your life, the series is 15 books long and each book will require three to four pictures plus a color cover which is quite a bit of work. I can understand where someone would look at that and turn it down.
I then reached out to a friend of mine who is a little more techy than I am, and we decided to work together to try and get some AI artwork together to make the books come to life. I was never really thrilled about this prospect (the discussion of AI art is for a different blog, and is a much longer conversation), because I loved the funky feel of my original artist Jesse Velasquez’s drawings, and how they brought Elsie to life.
The concession I made was that each of the books has a different theme and each one of the books takes place in a different time period and space, so I thought it might be kind of interesting to have each book change slightly in it’s artwork; for example “Elsie Jones and the Captain’s Guard” takes place in “The Three Musketeers” so having a Baroque style art for that book, but when she travels to “The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes” the artwork would be Victorian in style.
Ultimately I wasn’t super happy with the results that we were getting because Elsie Jones is a character in my head and the AI generators that we were working with made the character look a little too much like a public figure, or she looked different in every picture (All the examples are spread throughout this post).
I got very close to including these pictures, but ultimately I just couldn’t do it, but that put me at a loss. All of a sudden, I was back to no artwork, but a bunch of incredible books, so I made a decision. I reached out to Jesse (the original artist) and asked him if he would mind me using the original art again for the new books. It wasn’t something I wanted, because the books are new and they deserve something new.
Luckily Jesse agreed and said he would get the art over to me so we could move forward and hit that August 1st publication date.
The wrinkle came this past week as we were talking and he asked me if I had any interest in getting new artwork for the books since they were going to be different. We talked back and forth about it, and came to the conclusion that we were going to do it. We were going to change the art and make this the new project that it deserves to be, and completely different from the original publications, August first publication date be damned (I mean, I’m self publishing them, so it’s a self-imposed date, but still).
So that’s both the bad news and the good news. We’re going to have to wait a little longer to get the books, but they are going to have some incredible new art work, from an incredible artist. I CAN NOT State how absolutely happy I am that Jesse is willing to stay on board, because the world needs to both read these books and see an incredible artist and not some computer generated pictures.
Elsie Jones is Coming on 08/01
Hey everyone! I’m taking a week off from writing the Blind Read Blog and focusing on some extra editing, and I wanted to give everyone a special sneak peek of the upcoming Author’s editions of the New Elsie Jones Adventures, which will kick off with Elsie Jones and the Book Pirates on 08/01 of this year!
The Elsie Jones Adventures are a children’s chapter book series where Elsie Jones finds a mysterious secret room in her local library. In that room are fifteen books that, when she reads them, she is transported into their world and adventures with those characters.
Every book has action, humor, adventure, and fun little facts, so join me on this fun adventure!
Check out that special sneak peek below:
Beyond the door was an old wooden rickety staircase leading down. The walls on either side were brick, which was unlike the rest of the library. It looked so much older than everything else.
Elsie looked around to see if she could ask anyone if she was going in the right direction. When she didn’t see anyone, she considered returning to the main desk and getting her dad to accompany her.
“But I’m in the library,” she said to herself. “Nothing ever goes wrong in the library!”
“Shhhhh!” The person hissed again.
She took a deep breath and one more look around before walking down the steps. At the bottom of the staircase, she found another room filled with books. These books, however, were far older than any of the ones upstairs. Their covers were all shades of brown and red, and the titles faded on their spines. The other thing about this room was that the smell was different too. It smelled like old books. It reminded her of her grandfather’s office, and the memory made her smile.
She scanned the shelves, looking from history book to history book. She saw all kinds of interesting books. She ran her hand across the spines, enjoying the feeling of the old bindings when something odd happened. One of the books on the shelf had a red seven on the spine, just above the title, and when she touched the book, the red seven began to glow.
She pulled her hand back as if the book was hot and then looked at the title: Treasure Island by Robert Luis Stevenson.
“Why is there an adventure about Pirates in the history section?” Elsie asked.
She turned around, expecting the person to shush her again but didn’t hear anything. In fact, she thought she was alone down here in this old History section.
She paused just before touching the book again, but her curiosity got the better of her. It had a faded brown spine, the same as the ones next to it, but on the book’s cover, another bright shiny red seven glowed in the upper right corner.
“Whoa!” she exclaimed.
Excited, she flipped the cover open and saw an intricate drawing of a giant Pirate ship and a pirate with a pegleg and a large hat who held a sword in his hand.
The book was heavy, so she laid it on the ground for a better look. As she leaned over and flipped through it there were awesome color pictures of pirates fighting with swords, burying treasure, and sailing through storms. She also saw photos of a young boy doing all these things with the pirates.
“Oh, that would be so cool!” Elsie said.
“Squire Trelawney, Dr. Livesey, and the rest of these gentlemen having asked me to write down the whole particulars about Treasure Island,” She read.
Then something strange happened; the moment she spoke the pages started to turn on their own, flipping faster and faster until the pictures seemed to move. The pirates jumped on the ship and fought each other with their cutlasses. Elsie leaned back in surprise. One of the pirates turned to her and waved his hand, gesturing for her to join them.
Sean McBride 
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