(iii)
The Necromancer
While Moria represents a new element in the legendarium, the Necromancer is an old acquaintance. The character goes back, in one form or another, all the way to the end of the ‘Lost Tales’ period. In the fragments and outlines that make up all we have of ‘Gilfanon’s Tale’ – one of the truly ‘lost’ tales – appears ‘a certain fay’ (i.e., one of the Maiar) named Tû the wizard, ‘for he was more skilled in magics than any that have dwelt ever yet beyond the land of Valinor’. According to one account, Tû or Túvo learned ‘much black magic’ from Melko in the Halls of Mandos during the latter’s imprisonment there and ‘entered the world’ after Melko’s destruction of the Two Trees and escape from Valinor, whereupon Tû ‘set up a wizard kingship in the middle lands’ (i.e., the center of the world, midway between East and West). Ruler of the Dark Elves of Palisor, the ‘twilight people’, the wizard-king dwelt underground in endless caverns beside a dark lake.
For all his sinister associations, this ‘eldest of wizards’ is not evil. In fact, he is god-fearing in the old-fashioned sense of the word; when one of his elves discovers the first Men sleeping in the Vale of Murmenalda, Tû forbids his people to waken them before their time, ‘being frightened of the wrath of Ilúvatar’. Furthermore, perhaps from his earlier association with Mandos (the prophet of the Valar), he is aware that the humans are ‘waiting for the light’ and will not awaken until the first rising of the Sun. When one of his folk disobeys these orders, Tû takes the new Children of Ilúvatar under his protection and seeks to protect Men and Elves alike from ‘evil fays’.
At this point a second, similar, figure appears upon the scene, variously called Fúkil or Fankil or Fangli, the servant (or, according to one version, the child) of Melko. Like Tû, Fangli is a fay or Maia, one of several who ‘escaped into the world’ at the time of Melko’s chaining. Coming among the newly awakened humans, Fangli corrupts them, playing serpent in this Eden, and stirs up strife among the first Men. The result is the Battle of Palisor, where the Men corrupted by Fangli with their Dwarf and Goblin allies attack the twilight elves and the few Men still loyal to them. The outlines differ on whether Fangli’s host or Tû’s folk gain the victory, but most agree that ‘the Men corrupted by Fangli fled away and became wild and savage tribes, worshipping Fangli and Melko’; some even specify that these Men become the ‘dark and savage’ peoples of the far south and east – the first hint of the Southron and Easterling, the Men of Harad and Khand and Rhûn (BLT I.232–7).
Neither Tû nor Fangli is mentioned again after the ‘Lost Tales’ were abandoned, but a new figure of great importance appears shortly afterwards who combines elements from both: Thû the necromancer. Also variously known as Gorthû and Sauron, this evil magician makes his first appearance in ‘The Lay of Leithian’13 and thereafter plays a major role in all of Tolkien’s Middle-earth works:
Men called him Thû, and as a god
in after days beneath his rod
bewildered bowed to him, and made
his ghastly temples in the shade.
Not yet by Men enthralled adored,
now was he Morgoth’s mightiest lord,
Master of Wolves, whose shivering howl
for ever echoed in the hills, and foul
enchantments and dark sigaldry
did weave and wield. In glamoury
that necromancer held his hosts
of phantoms and of wandering ghosts,
of misbegotten or spell-wronged
monsters that about him thronged,
working his bidding dark and vile:
the werewolves of the Wizard’s Isle.
—Lay of Leithian, Canto VII, lines 2064–2079;
HME III.227–8.
While not yet as powerful as he later becomes, we have here the character of Sauron the Great fully developed: his undead servants (cf. The Lord of the Rings’ Nazgûl); his desire for worship (prefigured in the Fangli story) and the dark temples which come to play so great a role in all versions of the Numenor story; his skill at sorcery, especially necromancy and mind-controlling enchantments. Elsewhere in the Lay there is even mention of his ‘sleepless eyes of flame’ (line 2055), with which he keeps endless watch on all comings and goings on the borders of Morgoth’s land. The fate of those thrown into his dungeons is vividly described:
Thus came they unhappy into woe,
to dungeons no hope nor glimmer know,
where chained in chains that eat the flesh
and woven in webs of strangling mesh
they lay forgotten, in despair.
—Canto VII, lines 2210–2214;
HME III.231.
Bladorthin’s comment that the Necromancer’s castle ‘stands no more, and he is flown to another darker place – Beren and Tinúviel broke his power, but that is quite another story’ is an explicit reference back to events in ‘The Lay of Leithian’. It is not surprising that the earlier work was still fresh in Tolkien’s mind, nor that he would forge this connection between it and the new story taking shape. He had written the passages in the poem referring to Thû in March and April of 1928 – that is, just over two years before beginning The Hobbit. What’s more, work on the two pieces overlapped: Tolkien began The Hobbit in the summer of 1930 and was still writing new lines for ‘The Lay of Leithian’ as late as September 1931 (HME III.304). Thus, if any part of the Silmarillion material were to have a direct impact on the new story, ‘The Lay of Leithian’ is the natural piece where we might expect to find it. And the influence is there, right down to verbal echoes: after Thû’s defeat, the destruction of his tower, and the release of his captives, the Lay describes how Thû abandoned his body and took the form of a giant vampire bat
for Thû had flown
to Taur-na-Fuin, a new throne
and darker stronghold there to build.
—Canto IX, lines 2820–2822;
HME III.254–5.
Why, having made explicit ties between Mr. Baggins’ story and that of Beren & Lúthien, did Tolkien later cut these lines? The answer, I think, lies in the problems of chronology they create. If, as Bladorthin says, Gandalf’s father perished in the dungeons of the Necromancer but his castle has since been cast down by Beren and Tinuviel, then less than a century has passed between those events and the time of our story (since Gandalf’s father set out on his ill-fated journey ‘a hundred years ago last Tuesday’) – far too short a time to create the narrative distance from the Silmarillion tradition Tolkien seems to be striving for. It also involves the story in a serious contradiction later on, for we are told by Elrond in Chapter III that the swords from the troll lair are ‘old swords, very old swords of the elves . . . made in Gondolin for the goblin-wars . . . dragons destroyed that city many ages ago’ (p. 115; emphasis mine), yet the Fall of Gondolin came a generation or two after the time of Beren and Lúthien. The simplest way out of these difficulties was to eliminate one of the two references, either to Gondolin or to Beren & Tinúviel. Since the swords (and knife) from Gondolin play a crucial part in the narrative while the allusion to ‘The Lay of Leithian’ is essentially ornamental, it is no surprise that this is the reference which Tolkien decided to cut. Still, it is significant that it stood in the manuscript throughout the Second Phase – that is, for the bulk of the drafting of the story – and was only removed in the Third Phase with the creation of the First Typescript, after the story had been brought to the brink of the Siege of the Mountain; it is our strongest indicator that while writing The Hobbit Tolkien already considered it part of the mythology.
(iv)
The Third of March
Given Tolkien’s scrupulous attention to detail, how are we to account for Bladorthin’s remark that ‘last Tuesday’ was the third of March when only a few pages before the text had stated clearly and unambiguously that ‘it was April’ (see p. 36) – especially when we are told in the very next chapter that Bilbo’s journey began ‘one fine morning just before May’, a date bor
ne out by subsequent references (cf. p. 90: ‘the weather . . . had off and on been as good as May can be . . . “To think it is June the first tomorrow” grumbled Bilbo’)? The answer, of course, lies in the gap in composition between the first and last parts of this chapter: when Tolkien drafted this line as part of the Second Phase, he simply forgot that he had already set the scene for the Unexpected Party in April during the First Phase. The error remained in the book until the second edition of 1951, when Tolkien changed the starting date of Thrain’s expedition to ‘the twenty-first of April, a hundred years ago last Thursday’ and toyed with ascribing the error to ‘a misreading of the difficult hand and language of the original diary’ (cf. p. 752).
From time to time efforts have been made to prove that Tolkien used the calendar for an actual year to construct the time-table for Bilbo’s journey – see, for example, Mick Henry’s ‘The Hobbit Calendar’ in the May 1993 issue of Amon Hen (pp. 14–15), which argues for 1932 on the grounds that April 21st fell on a Thursday that year. Interestingly enough, this error on Tolkien’s part offers the best proof possible that he was not working from the calendar of a specific year, since it would have been easy for him to avoid this and other chronological anomalies if he was simply following the current calendar (again, see Tolkien’s attempt years later to ‘fix’ the timeline of events in The Hobbit in the Fifth Phase). Furthermore, it is clear from reading his memorandum noting changes needed for the second edition that the change from Tuesday to Thursday was purely accidental; Tolkien simply forgot that the original text specified Tuesday rather than Thursday, and he was reluctant to abandon ‘the comic precision’ of ‘one hundred years ago last Thursday’ (see p. 750).
Chapter II
Trolls
The text continues on the same page as before (manuscript page 18; Marq. 1/1/1:8), with its first paragraph comprising the last four lines on that page; no more than a single skipped line marks where the eventual chapter break would occur.
He jumped up and put on his dressing gown, and went out and saw all the signs of a very hurried breakfast. There was a dreadful lot of washing up in the kitchen, and crumbs and mess in the diningroom, and no fires. Nor were there any dwarves or wizard.
Bilbo would have thought it all a bad dream, if there hadn’t been such a lot of washing up and mess to clear away.
Still he could not help feeling relieved, in a way, and yet in a way a bit disappointed to think they had all gone without him – ‘and with never a thank you’ he thought. So he put on an apron [and started on the washing up >] lit fires, boiled water, washed up, had a nice little breakfast, & did the dining room. By that time the sun was shining, and the front door was open letting in a jolly warm breeze. Bilbo began to whistle, and to forget about the night before. In fact he was just sitting down to a second breakfast by the kitchen window, when in walked Bladorthin.
‘My dear fellow’ he said, ‘when ever are you going to [start >] come? What about an early start! – and here you are still having breakfast at half past ten. They left you the message because they could n’t wait’.
‘What message’ said Bilbo all in a fluster.
‘Great elephants’ said Bladorthin ‘you’re not yourself at all this morning. You have never dusted the mantelpiece.’
‘What’s that got to do with it: I have had enough to do with washing up breakfast for thirteen.’TN1
‘If you had dusted the mantelpiece you would have found this just under the clock.’ And Bladorthin handed Bilbo a note (written of course on his own note paper). This is what he read:
‘Gandalf and company to Burglar Bilbo, greetings! For your hospitality our sincerest thanks, and for your offer of professional assistance our grateful acceptance. Terms cash on delivery up to and not exceeding one fourteenth share of total profits. Thinking it unnecessary to disturb your esteemed repose we have proceeded in advance to make necessary preparations, and shall await your respected person at the Great MillTN2 across the river at 11 a.m sharp. Trusting you will be punctual we remain yours deeply G & Co.’
‘That leaves you just ten minutes. It is a mile. You will have to run!’ said Bladorthin.
‘But – ’ said Bilbo. ‘No time for it’ said the wizard. Even to this day Bilbo does not remember how he found himself outside without a hat, or a walking stick, or any money, and leaving half of his second breakfast unfinished and not washed up, and leaving his keys in Bladorthin’s hand, and running as fast as his furry feet would carry him down the lane, and over the bridge, across the river, and so for a whole mile or more.
Very puffed he was when he got there on the stroke of eleven, and found he hadn’t brought a pocket handkerchief!
‘Bravo’ said Balin who was standing by the mill door [added: looking out for him]. Just then all the others came round the corner of the lane from the village. They were on ponies, and each pony was slung about with all kinds of baggages, packages, parcels and paraphernalia. There was a pony for Bilbo.
‘Up you two get’ said Gandalf ‘and off we go!’
‘I am awfully sorry’ said Bilbo ‘but I have come without my hat, and I have left my pocket handkerchief behind, and my money. I didn’t get your note till after 10.45, to be precise.’
‘Don’t be precise’ said Dwalin, ‘and don’t worry. You will have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs, and lots of other things before we get to our journey’s end. As for a hat I have a spare hood and cloak in my luggage.’
That’s how they all came to start, jogging off from the mill one fine morning just before May, on laden ponies; and Bilbo was wearing a dark green hood (a little weather stained) and a dark green cloak borrowed from Dwalin. But he hadn’t a gold chain, nor a beard so he couldn’t be mistaken for a dwarf, not from close to.
They hadn’t been riding very farTN3 when up came Bladorthin very splendid on a white horse. He had brought a lot of pocket handkerchiefs and Bilbo’s pipe and tobacco. So after that the party went very merrily, and they told stories and sang songs as they rode along all day, except of course when they stopped for picnic meals. These weren’t quite as often as Bilbo was used to, but still he began to feel that he was enjoying himself.
Things went on like this for quite a long while. There was a good deal of wide respectable country to pass through inhabited by decent respectable folk, men or hobbits, or elves, or what not, with good roads, an inn or two, and every now and then a dwarf or a tinker or a farmer ambling by on business.
But after a time they came to places where people spoke strangely and sang songs Bilbo had never heard before. Inns were rare, the roads were not good, and there were hills in the distance rising higher and higher. There were castles on some of the hills, and some looked as if they had not been built for any good purpose. Also the weather, which had off and on been as good as May can be even in tales and legends, took a nasty turn.
‘To think it is June the first tomorrow’ grumbled Bilbo, as he splashed along behind the others in a very muddy track. It was after tea-time; it was pouring with rain (and had been all day); his hood was dripping into his eyes, his cloak was full of water; the pony was tired and stumbled [and shook >] on stones; the others were too grumpy to talk – ‘and I am sure the rain has got at my dry clothes and into the food bags’ thought Bilbo. ‘Bother burglary and everything to do with it. I wish I was at home in my nice hole by the fire with the kettle just beginning to sing.’ It was not the last time he wished that.
Still the dwarves jogged on, never turning round or taking any notice of the hobbit. Somewhere behind the grey clouds the sun must have gone down, for it began to get dark. Wind got up, and the willows along the riverbank [added: bent and sighed] – I don’t know what river it was, a rushing red one swollen with the rains of the last few days that came down from the hills and mountains in front of them.
Soon it was nearly dark. The winds broke up the grey clouds, and a waning moon appeared above the hills between the flying rags. They stopped and Gandalf muttered something about ‘s
upper, and where shall we get a dry patch to sleep on’.
Not until then did they notice that Bladorthin was missing. So far he had come all the way with them, never saying if he was in the adventure or merely keeping them company for a while. He had eaten most, talked most, and laughed most. But now he simply wasn’t there at all.
The History of the Hobbit Page 14
