‘Elves’ is a translation, not perhaps now very suitable, but originally good enough, of Quendi. They are represented as a race similar in appearance (and more so the further back) to Men, and in former days of the same stature. I will not here go into their differences from Men! But I suppose that the Quendi are in fact in these histories very little akin to the Elves and Fairies of Europe; and if I were pressed to rationalize, I should say that they represent really Men with greatly enhanced aesthetic and creative faculties, greater beauty and longer life, and nobility – the Elder Children, doomed to fade before the Followers (Men), and to live ultimately only by the thin line of their blood that was mingled with that of Men, among whom it was the only real claim to ‘nobility’.
They are represented as having become early divided in to two, or three, varieties. 1. The Eldar who heard the summons of the Valar or Powers to pass from Middle-earth over the Sea to the West; and 2. the Lesser Elves who did not answer it. Most of the Eldar after a great march reached the Western Shores and passed over Sea; these were the High Elves, who became immensely enhanced in powers and knowledge. But part of them in the event remained in the coast-lands of the North-west: these were the Sindar or Grey-elves. The lesser Elves hardly appear, except as part of the people of The Elf-realm; of Northern Mirkwood, and of Lórien, ruled by Eldar; their languages do not appear.
The High Elves met in this book are Exiles, returned back over Sea to Middle-earth, after events which are the main matter of the Silmarillion, part of one of the main kindreds of the Eldar:the Noldorfn28 (Masters of Lore). Or rather a last remnant of these. For the Silmarillion proper and the First Age ended with the destruction of the primeval Dark Power (of whom Sauron was a mere lieutenant), and the rehabilitation of the Exiles, who returned again over Sea. Those who lingered were those who were enamoured of Middle-earth and yet desired the unchanging beauty of the Land of the Valar. Hence the making of the Rings; for the Three Rings were precisely endowed with the power of preservation, not of birth. Though unsullied, because they were not made by Sauron nor touched by him, they were nonetheless partly products of his instruction, and ultimately under the control of the One. Thus, as you will see, when the One goes, the last defenders of High-elven lore and beauty are shorn of power to hold back time, and depart.
I am sorry about the Geography. It must have been dreadfully difficult without a map or maps. There will be in volume I a map of part of the Shire, and a small-scale general map of the whole scene of action and reference (of which the map at the end of The Hobbit is the N.E. corner). These have been drawn from my less elegant maps by my son Christopher, who is learned in this lore. But I have only had one proof and that had to go back. I wisely started with a map, and made the story fit (generally with meticulous care for distances). The other way about lands one in confusions and impossibilities, and in any case it is weary work to compose a map from a story – as I fear you have found.
I cannot send you my own working maps; but perhaps these very rough and not entirely accurate drafts, made hurriedly at various times for readers, would be of some assistance. . . . . Perhaps when you have done with these MS. maps or made some notes you would not mind sending them back. I shall find them useful in making some more; but I cannot get to that yet. I may say that my son’s maps are beautifully clear, as far as reduction in reproduction allows; but they do not contain everything, alas!
Some stray answers. Dragons. They had not stopped; since they were active in far later times, close to our own. Have I said anything to suggest the final ending of dragons? If so it should be altered. The only passage I can think of is Vol. I p. 70: ‘there is not now any dragon left on earth in which the old fire is hot enough’. But that implies, I think, that there are still dragons, if not of full primeval stature. I have a long historical table of events from the Beginning to the End of the Third Age. It is rather full; but I agree that a short form, containing events important for this tale would be useful. If you would care for typed copies of some of this material: eg. The Rings of Power; The Downfall of Númenor; the Lists of the Heirs of Elendil; the House of Eorl (Genealogy); Genealogy of Durin and the Dwarf-lords of Moria; and The Tale of the Years (esp. those of the Second and Third Ages), I will try and get copies made soon. . . . .
Ores (the word is as far as I am concerned actually derived from Old English orc ‘demon’, but only because of its phonetic suitability) are nowhere clearly stated to be of any particular origin. But since they are servants of the Dark Power, and later of Sauron, neither of whom could, or would, produce living things, they must be ‘corruptions’. They are not based on direct experience of mine; but owe, I suppose, a good deal to the goblin tradition (goblin is used as a translation in The Hobbit, where orc only occurs once, I think), especially as it appears in George MacDonald, except for the soft feet which I never believed in. The name has the form orch (pl. yrch) in Sindarin and uruk in the Black Speech.
The Black Speech was only used in Mordor; it only occurs in the Ring inscription, and a sentence uttered by the Ores of Barad-dûr (Vol. II p. 48)1 and in the word Nazgûl (cf. nazg in the Ring inscription). It was never used willingly by any other people, and consequently even the names of places in Mordor are in English (for the C.S.) or Elvish. Morannon is just the Elvish for Black Gate; cf. Mordor Black Land, Mor-ia Black Chasm, Mor-thond Black-root (river-name). Rohir-rim is the Elvish (Gondorian) name for the people that called themselves Riders of the Mark or Eorlings. The formation is not meant to resemble Hebrew. The Eldarin languages distinguish in forms and use between a ‘partitive’ or ‘particular’ plural, and the general or total plural. Thus yrch ‘orcs, some orcs, des orques’ occurs in vol I pp. 359, 402; the Orcs, as a race, or the whole of a group previously mentioned would have been orchoth. In Grey-elven the general plurals were very frequently made by adding to a name (or a place-name) some word meaning ‘tribe, host, horde, people’. So Haradrim the Southrons: Q. rimbe, S. rim, host; Onod-rim the Ents. The Rohirrim is derived from roch (Q. rokko) horse, and the Elvish stem kher- ‘possess’; whence Sindarin Rochir ‘horse-lord’, and Rochir-rim ‘the host of the Horse-lords’. In the pronunciation of Gondor the ch (as in German, Welsh, etc) had been softened to a sounded h; so in Rochann ‘Hippia’ to Rohan.
Beorn is dead; see vol. I p. 241. He appeared in The Hobbit. It was then the year Third Age 2940 (Shire-reckoning 1340). We are now in the years 3018–19 (1418–19). Though a skin-changer and no doubt a bit of a magician, Beorn was a Man.
Tom Bombadil is not an important person – to the narrative. I suppose he has some importance as a ‘comment’. I mean, I do not really write like that: he is just an invention (who first appeared in the Oxford Magazine about 1933), and he represents something that I feel important, though I would not be prepared to analyze the feeling precisely. I would not, however, have left him in, if he did not have some kind of function. I might put it this way. The story is cast in terms of a good side, and a bad side, beauty against ruthless ugliness, tyranny against kingship, moderated freedom with consent against compulsion that has long lost any object save mere power, and so on; but both sides in some degree, conservative or destructive, want a measure of control. but if you have, as it were taken ‘a vow of poverty’, renounced control, and take your delight in things for themselves without reference to yourself, watching, observing, and to some extent knowing, then the question of the rights and wrongs of power and control might become utterly meaningless to you, and the means of power quite valueless. It is a natural pacifist view, which always arises in the mind when there is a war. But the view of Rivendell seems to be that it is an excellent thing to have represented, but that there are in fact things with which it cannot cope; and upon which its existence nonetheless depends. Ultimately only the victory of the West will allow Bombadil to continue, or even to survive. Nothing would be left for him in the world of Sauron.
He has no connexion in my mind with the Entwives. What had happened to them is not resolved in this book. He is i
n a way the answer to them in the sense that he is almost the opposite, being say, Botany and Zoology (as sciences) and Poetry as opposed to Cattle-breeding and Agriculture and practicality.
I think that in fact the Entwives had disappeared for good, being destroyed with their gardens in the War of the Last Alliance (Second Age 3429–3441) when Sauron pursued a scorched earth policy and burned their land against the advance of the Allies down the Anduin (vol. II p. 79 refers to it2). They survived only in the ‘agriculture’ transmitted to Men (and Hobbits). Some, of course, may have fled east, or even have become enslaved: tyrants even in such tales must have an economic and agricultural background to their soldiers and metal-workers. If any survived so, they would indeed be far estranged from the Ents, and any rapprochement would be difficult – unless experience of industrialized and militarized agriculture had made them a little more anarchic. I hope so. I don’t know.
Hobbit-children were delightful, but I am afraid that the only glimpses of them in this book are found at the beginning of vol. I. An epilogue giving a further glimpse (though of a rather exceptional family) has been so universally condemned that I shall not insert it. One must stop somewhere.
Yes, Sam Gamgee is in a sense a relation of Dr. Gamgee, in that his name would not have taken that form, if I had not heard of ‘Gamgee tissue’; there was I believe a Dr. Gamgee (no doubt of the kin) in Birmingham when I was a child. The name was any way always familiar to me. Gaffer Gamgee arose first: he was a legendary character to my children (based on a real-life gaffer, not of that name). But, as you will find explained, in this tale the name is a ‘translation’ of the real Hobbit name, derived from a village (devoted to rope-making) anglicized as Gamwich (pron. Gammidge), near Tighfield (see vol. II p. 217).3 Since Sam was close friends of the family of Cotton (another village-name), I was led astray into the Hobbit-like joke of spelling Gamwichy Gamgee, though I do not think that in actual Hobbit-dialect the joke really arose.
There are no precise opposites to the Wizards – a translation (perhaps not suitable, but throughout distinguished from other ‘magician’ terms) of Q. Elvish Istari. Their origin was not known to any but a few (such as Elrond and Galadriel) in the Third Age. They are said to have first appeared about the year 1000 of the Third Age, when the shadow of Sauron began first to grow again to new shape. They always appeared old, but grew older with their labours, slowly, and disappeared with the end of the Rings. They were thought to be Emissaries (in the terms of this tale from the Far West beyond the Sea), and their proper function, maintained by Gandalf, and perverted by Saruman, was to encourage and bring out the native powers of the Enemies of Sauron. Gandalf’s opposite was, strictly, Sauron, in one part of Sauron’s operations; as Aragorn was in another.
The Balrog is a survivor from the Silmarillion and the legends of the First Age. So is Shelob. The Balrogs, of whom the whips were the chief weapons, were primeval spirits of destroying fire, chief servants of the primeval Dark Power of the First Age. They were supposed to have been all destroyed in the overthrow of Thangorodrim, his fortress in the North. But it is here found (there is usually a hang-over especially of evil from one age to another) that one had escaped and taken refuge under the mountains of Hithaeglin (the Misty Mountains). It is observable that only the Elf knows what the thing is – and doubtless Gandalf.
Shelob (English representing C.S ‘she-lob’ = female spider) is a translation of Elvish Ungol ‘spider’. She is represented in vol. II p. 332 as descendant of the giant spiders of the glens of Nandungorthin, which come into the legends of the First Age, especially into the chief of them, the tale of Beren and Lúthien. This is constantly referred to, since as Sam points out (vol. II p. 321)4 this history is in a sense only a further continuation of it. Both Elrond (and his daughter Arwen Undómiel, who resembles Lúthien closely in looks and fate) are descendants of Beren and Lúthien; and so at very many more removes is Aragorn. The giant spiders were themselves only the offspring of Ungoliante the primeval devourer of light, that in spider-form assisted the Dark Power, but ultimately quarrelled with him. There is thus no alliance between Shelob and Sauron, the Dark Power’s deputy; only a common hatred.
Galadriel is as old, or older than Shelob. She is the last remaining of the Great among the High Elves, and ‘awoke’ in Eldamar beyond the Sea, long before Ungoliante came to Middle-earth and produced her broods there. . . . .
Well, after a long silence you have evoked a fairly long reply. Not too long, I hope, even for such delightful and encouraging interest. I am deeply grateful for it; and I hope all staying at Carradale5 will accept my thanks.
Yours sincerely,
J. R. R. Tolkien.
145 From a letter to Rayner Unwin
13 May 1954
[Tolkien had been sent the Houghton Mifflin Co.’s draft for the ‘blurbs’ on the dust-jackets of the American edition of The Lord of the Rings. He was also shown a set of opinions of the book which Allen & Unwin proposed to cite on the jacket of the British edition. In these, C. S. Lewis was quoted as comparing the book favourably with Ariosto, Richard Hughes remarked that nothing had been attempted on the same scale since The Faerie Queene, and Naomi Mitchison called Tolkien’s story ‘super science fiction’. Rayner Unwin also gave Tolkien news of the birth of his son, Merlin – a name that he suggested was more appropriate for a child than ‘Gandalf’.]
Thank you for sending me the projected ‘blurbs’, which I return. The Americans are not as a rule at all amenable to criticism or correction; but I think their effort is so poor that I feel constrained to make some effort to improve it, though without much more hope of effect than in the case of the appalling jacket they produced for The Hobbit. I enclose a page of suggestions, which you might perhaps send on to Houghton Mifflin. . . . .
May I beg of you earnestly to try and make the publication July? I think it would be a pity to let the enthusiasm go off the boil. I also think that July is much the better date for many, especially scholastics and academics, who in July begin to lift up their heads and in September begin to bow them again under a load of cares. But I have some cogent private reasons. One of them is that I am particularly anxious that Vol. I should be in public existence before I arrive in Dublin to take the degree of D. Litt. on July 20 at the centenary celebrations. (Though the Irish have not much money for such expensive books, you might get Dublin to take a copy or two on the strength of the celebrations!)
It never rains but it pours (as I am sure Mr Butterbur must have said), and I am going to get a doctorate at Liége on October 2nd; but I suppose that Vol. I will be out at least before then. . . . .
I am pleased to find that the preliminary opinions are so good, though I feel that comparisons with Spenser, Malory, and Ariosto (not to mention super Science Fiction) are too much for my vanity! I showed your draft to Geoffrey Mure (Warden), who was being tiresome this morning and threatening to eject me from my room in favour of a mere tutor. He was visibly shaken, and evidently did not know before what the college had been harbouring. He went so far as to say that Merton seemed to be doing well, though he doubted if I should get quite into the Roger Bannister class.1 Anyway my stock went up sufficiently to obtain me an even better room, even at the cost of ejecting one so magnificent as the Steward. So if you have any more appreciations which I have not seen, please let me have a look at them. I promise not to become like Mr Toad. . . . .
I am delighted to hear that all is going well. This is the second Merlin with whom I am acquainted. Professor Turville Petre’s second son bears the names Merlin Oswald (not an Anglo-Welsh rapprochement; I think the Oswald is parental and grand-parental). I am sure you are right: Gandalf was of course always old. He was an Emissary, who had that shape from the first; but all things wear in Middle-Earth, so that he got older before his task was done. Not a name for a child of Men!
146 From a letter to Allen & Unwin
3 June 1954
[The Production Department had asked Tolkien to approve the design of the dust
-jacket for The Lord of the Rings.]
I wish that I could say that I approve of the proofs of the jacket, herewith returned. I do not. I think they are very ugly indeed. But to be effective I should have been given an opportunity of criticism at an earlier stage.
What the jacket looks like is, I think, of much less importance now than issuing the book as soon as possible; and if I had had nothing to do with it, I should not much mind. But as the Ring-motif remains obviously mine (though made rather clumsier), I am likely to be suspected by the few who concern me of having planned the whole. . . . .
I tell you what I think, since I am asked: tasteless and depressing. But surely asking my opinion is a formality. I do not suppose that any of my criticisms could be met without serious delay. I would rather have the things as they are than cause any more delay. But if this can be done without delay, I would like a different type for the title-lettering at least (on the page; the spine is passable).
147 From a letter to Allen & Unwin
15 June 1954
[The jacket of The Lord of the Rings was altered by the publishers in the light of Tolkien’s comments in the previous letter.]
It was a great moment yesterday when I received the advance copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. The book itself is very presentable indeed.
I think the jacket is now much improved, and is rather striking. I like the grey paper used, and much prefer it to the other colours. But the specimens of the jackets for II and III do bring home to me the point, which I had not fully appreciated: the need for differentiation. Since the same device is, for economy, to be used throughout, they do look too much alike; and choice of colour is perhaps less important than distinction. But this could perhaps better be achieved by varying the colour of the major lettering? Title and author in red?
The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien Page 25
