HISTORY OF MIDDLE EARTH PDF
The History of Middle Earth - reviewed by Franco Manni - ppti.info J.R.R. Tolkien, The History of Middle-Earth,. HarperCollins, London, 12 volumes. HISTORY OF MIDDLE-EARTH CONTENTS Foreword I THE COTTAGE OF LOST PLAY Notes and Commentary II THE MUSIC OF THE AINUR. CONTENTS. Preface page x I THE TALE OF TINUVIEL. Notes and Commentary. II TURAMBAR AND THE FOALOKE. Notes and Commentary. III THE FALL OF.
|Language:||English, Spanish, Dutch|
|Genre:||Science & Research|
|ePub File Size:||16.81 MB|
|PDF File Size:||12.87 MB|
|Distribution:||Free* [*Regsitration Required]|
Moreover in the history of the history of Middle-earth the development was seldom by outright rejection -- far more often it was by subtle transformation in stages. THE HISTORY OF MIDDLE-EARTH. Volume The Later Silmarillion. Part One. The Legends of Aman. Edited by Christopher Tolkien. HarperCollinsPublishers. The History of Middle-earth is a volume series of books published between and .. Create a book · Download as PDF · Printable version.
I have adopted, though hesitantly, a consistent system of accentuation for Elvish names. I have used the acute accent for macron, circumflex, and acute and occasional grave accents of the original texts, but the circumflex on monosyllables -- thus Palurien, Onen, Kor: Lastly, the division of this edition into two. The edition is conceived as a whole, and I hope that the second part will appear within a year of the first; but each part has its own Index and Appen- dix on Names.
The second part contains what am in many respects the most interesting of the Tales: The Cottage of Lost Play, which introduceth [the] Book of Lost Tales; and on the cover is also written, in my mother's hand, her initials, E. In this book the tale was written out by my mother; and it is a fair copy of a very rough pencilled manuscript of my father's on loose sheets, which were placed inside the cover.
Thus the date of the actual composition of this tale could have been, but probably was not, earlier than the winter of The fair copy follows the original text precisely; some further changes, mostly slight other than in the matter of names , were then made to the fair copy.
The text follows here in its final form.
J.R.R. Tolkien - The History of Middle-Earth - 00
Now it happened on a certain time that a traveller from far countries, a man of great curiosity, was by desire of strange lands and the ways and dwellings of unaccustomed folk brought in a ship as far west even as the Lonely Island, Tol Eressea in the fairy speech, but which the Gnomes' call Dor Faidwen, the Land of Release, and a great tale hangs thereto.
Now one day after much journeying he came as the lights of evening were being kindled in many a window to the feet of a hill in a broad and woody plain. He was now near the centre of this great island and for many days had wandered its roads, stopping each night at what dwelling of folk he might chance upon, were it hamlet or good town, about the hour of eve at the kindling of candles.
Now at that time the desire of new sights is least, even in one whose heart is that of an explorer; and then even such a son of Earendel as was this wayfarer turns his thoughts rather to supper and to rest and the telling of tales before the time of bed and sleep is come.
Now as he stood at the foot of the little hill there came a faint breeze and then a flight of rooks above his head in the clear even light. The sun had some time sunk beyond the boughs of the elms that stood as far as eye could look about the plain, and some time had its last gold faded through the leaves and slipped across the glades to sleep beneath the roots and dream till dawn.
Now these rooks gave voice of home-coming above him, and with a swift turn came to their dwelling in the tops of some high elms at the summit of this hill.
Then thought Eriol for thus did the people of the island after call him, and its purport is 'One who dreams alone', but of his former names the story nowhere tells: To me it has the air of holding many secrets of old and wonderful and beautiful things in its treasuries and noble places and in the hearts of those that dwell within its walls. Through them as he climbed the road he could see the first stars shine forth, even as he afterwards sang in the song which he made to that fair city.
Now was he at the summit of the hill amidst its houses, and stepping as if by chance he turned aside down a winding lane, till, a little down the western slope of the hill, his eye was arrested by a tiny dwelling whose many small windows were curtained snugly, yet only so that a most warm and delicious light, as of hearts content within, looked forth.
Then his heart yearned for kind company, and the desire for wayfaring died in him -- and impelled by a great longing he turned aside at this cottage door, and knocking asked one who came and opened what might be the name of this house and who dwelt therein. And it was said to him that this was Mar Vanwa Tyalieva, or the Cottage of Lost Play, and at that name he wondered greatly.
There dwelt within, 'twas said, Lindo and Vaire who had built it many years ago, and with them were no few of their folk and friends and children. And at this he wondered more than before, seeing the size of the cottage; but he that opened to him, perceiving his mind, said: Then said the other, 'Enter,' and Eriol stepped in, and behold, it seemed a house of great spaciousness and very great delight, and the lord of it, Lindo, and his wife, Vaire, came forth to greet him; and his heart was more glad within him than it had yet been in all his wanderings, albeit since his landing in the Lonely Isle his joy had been great enough.
And when Vaire had spoken the words of welcome, and Lindo had asked of him his name and whence he came and whither he might be seeking, and he had named himself the Stranger and said that he came from the Great Lands,' and that he was seeking whitherso his desire for travel led him, then was the evening meal set out in the great hall and Eriol bidden thereto.
Now in this hall despite the summertide were three great fires -- one at the far end and one on either side of the table, and save for their light as Eriol entered all was in a warm gloom. But at that moment many folk came in bearing candles of all sizes and many shapes in sticks of strange pattern: At that same moment a great gong sounded far off in thehouse with a sweet noise, and a sound followed as of the laughter of many voices mingled with a great pattering of feet.
Then Vaire said to Eriol, seeing his face filled with a happy wonderment: And the sounding of the three strokes is the happiest moment in the day of Littleheart the Gong-warden, as he himself declares who has known happiness enough of old; and ancient indeed is he beyond count in spite of his merriness of soul. He sailed in Wingilot with Earendel in that last voyage wherein they sought for Kor. Then he looked up, and lo, the hall and all its benches and chairs were filled with children of every aspect, kind, and size, while sprinkled among them were folk of all manners and ages.
In one thing only were all alike, that a look of great happiness lit with a merry expectation of further mirth and joy lay on every face. The soft light of candles too was upon them all; it shone on bright tresses and gleamed about dark hair, or here and there set a pale fire in locks gone grey.
Even as he gazed all arose and with one voice sang the song of the Bringing in of the Meats. Then was the food brought in and set before them, and thereafter the bearers and those that served and those that waited, host and hostess, children and guest, sat down: As they ate Eriol fell into speech with Lindo and his wife, telling them tales of his old days and of his adventures, especially those he had encountered upon the journey that had brought him to the Lonely Isle, and asking in return many things concerning the fair land, and most of all of that fair city wherein he now found himself.
Lindo said to him: Now this region is accounted the centre of the island, and its fairest realm; but above all the towns and villages of Alalminore is held Koromas, or as some call it, Kortirion, and this city is the one wherein you now find yourself. Both because it stands at the heart of the island, and from the height of its mighty tower, do those that speak of it with love call it the Citadel of the Island, or of the World itself.
More reason is there thereto than even great love, for all the island looks to the dwellers here for wisdom and leadership, for song and lore; and here in a great korin of elms dwells Meril-i-Turinqi. Now a korin is a great circular hedge, be it of stone or of thorn or even of trees, that encloses a green sward. Meril comes of the blood of Inwe, whom the Gnomes call Inwithiel, he that was King of all the Eldar when they dwelt in Kor. That was in the days before hearing the lament of the world Inwe led them forth to the lands of Men: He was of Aule's kindred, but had dwelt long with the Shoreland Pipers, the Solosimpi, and so came among the earliest to the island.
Thurinqi only may give it to those not of the Eldar race, and those that drink must dwell always with the Eldar of the Island until such time as they fare forth to find the lost families of the kindred. Then sounded the Gong of the Children thrice, and a glad clamour arose in the hall, and some swung back big oaken doors at the hall's end -- at that end which had no hearth.
Then many seized those candles that were set in tall wooden sticks and held them aloft while others laughed and chattered, but all made a lane midmost of the company down which went Lindo and Vaire and Eriol, and as they passed the doors the throng followed them.
Eriol saw now that they were in a short broad corridor whose walls half-way up were arrassed; and on those tapestries were many stories pictured whereof he knew not at that time the purport. Above the tapestries it seemed there were paintings, but he could not see for gloom, for the candlebearers were behind, and before him the only light came from an open door through which poured a red glow as of a big fire.
Then all that company came laughing and talking into the room whence came the red glow. A fair room it was as might be felt even by the fire-flicker which danced upon the walls and low ceiling, while deep shadows lay in the nooks and corners.
Round the great hearth was a multitude of soft rugs and yielding cushions strewn; and a little to one side was a deep chair with carven arms and feet. And so it was that Eriol felt at that time and at all others whereon he entered there at the hour of tale-telling, that whatso the number of the folk and children the room felt ever just great enough but not large, small enough but not overthronged.
Then all sat them down where they would, old and young, but Lindo in the deep chair and Vaire upon a cushion at his feet, and Eriol rejoicing in the red blaze for all that it was summer stretched nigh the hearthstone.
Then said Lindo: Shall they be of the Great Lands, and of the dwellings of Men; of the Valar and Valinor; of the West and its mysteries, of the East and its glory, of the South and its untrodden wilds, of the North and its power and strength; or of this island and its folk; or of the old days of Kor where our folk once dwelt?
For that this night we entertain a guest, a man of great and excellent travel, a son meseems of Earendel, shall it be of voyaging, of beating about in a boat, of winds and the sea? Now this place was near the confines of the realm but not far from Kor, yet by reason of its distance from the sun-tree Lindelos there was a light there as of summer evening, save only when the silver lamps werekindled on the hill at dusk, and then little lights of white would dance and quiver on the paths, chasing black shadow-dapples under the trees.
This was a time of joy to the children, for it was mostly at this hour that a new comrade would come down the lane called Olore Malle or the Path of Dreams. It has been said to me, though the truth I know not, that that lane ran by devious routes to the homes of Men, but that way we never trod when we fared thither ourselves. It was a lane of deep banks and great overhanging hedges, beyond which stood many tall trees wherein a perpetual whisper seemed to live; but not seldom great glow-worms crept about its grassy borders.
Of what it was built, nor when, no one knew, nor now knows, but it was said to me that it shone with a pale light, as it was of pearl, and its roof was a thatch, but a thatch of gold. But in the lilacs every bird that ever sang sweetly gathered. Now the walls of the cottage were bent with age and its many small lattice windows were twisted into strange shapes. No one, 'tis said, dwelt in the cottage, which was however guarded secretly and jealously by the Eldar so that no harm came nigh it, and that yet might the children playing therein in freedom know of no guardianship.
This was the Cottage of the Children, or of the Play of Sleep, and not of Lost Play, as has wrongly been said in song among Men -- for no play was lost then, and here alas only and now is the Cottage of Lost Play. Nay, some even who wandered on to the edge of the rocks of Eldamar and there strayed, dazzled by the fair shells and the fishes of many colours, the blue pools and the silver foam, they drew back to the cottage, alluring them gently with the odour of many flowers.
Yet even so there were a few who heard on that beach the sweet piping of the Solosimpi afar off and who played not with the other children but climbed to the upper windows and gazed out, straining to see the far glimpses of the sea and the magic shores beyond the shadows and the trees.
And many children have there become comrades, who after met and loved in the lands of Men, but of such things perchance Men know more than I can tell you. Yet some there were who, as I have told, heard the Solosimpi piping afar off, or others who straying again beyond the garden caught a sound of the singing of the Telelli on the hill, and even some who reaching Kor afterwards returned home, and their minds and hearts were full of wonder. Of the misty aftermemories of these, of their broken tales and snatches of song, came many strange legends that delighted Men for long, and still do, it may be; for of such were the poets of the Great Lands.
But seeing that no children came there for refreshment and delight, sorrow and greyness spread amongst them and Men ceased almost to believe in, or think of, the beauty of the Eldar and the glory of the Valar, till one came from the Great Lands and besought us to relieve the darkness.
Now Lindo and I, Vaire, had taken under our care the children -the remainder of those who found Kor and remained with the Eldar for ever: Ever and anon our children fare forth again to find the Great Lands, and go about among the lonely children and whisper to them at dusk in early bed by night-light and candle-flame, or comfort those that weep. Some I am told listen to the complaints of those that are punished or chidden, and hear their tales and feign to take their part, and this seems to me a quaint and merry service.
Yet the most come back hither and tell us many stories and many sad things of their journeys -and now I have told most of what is to tell of the Cottage of Lost Play.
It had long, said he, been a tradition in our kindred that one of our father's fathers would speak of a fair house and magic gardens, of a wondrous town, and of a music full of all beauty and longing -and these things he said he had seen and heard as a child, though how and where was not told. Now all his life was he restless, as if a longing half-expressed for unknown things dwelt within him; and 'tis said that he died among rocks on a lonely coast on a night of storm -- and moreover that most of his children and their children since have been of a restless mind -- and methinks I know now the truth of the matter.
For the use of the word Gnomes see p. The term 'Middle-earth' is never used in the Lost Tales, and in fact does not appear until writings of the s. Changes made to names in The Cottage of Lost Play The names were at this time in a very fluid state, reflecting in part the rapid development of the languages that was then taking place. Changes were made to the original text, and further changes, at different times, to the second text, but it seems unnecessary in the following notes to go into thedetail of when and where the changes weremade.
The names are given in the order of their occurrence in the tale. Wingilot name Goldriel; Goldriel was changed to Golthadriel, and then the reference to the Gnomish name was struck out, leaving only Noldorin. Tulkastor on the 'Eriol' or 'English' element is that of short outlines, in which salient narrative features, often without clear connection between them, are set down in the manner of a list; and they vary constantly among themselves.
In what must be, at any rate, among the very earliest of outlines, found in this little pocket-book, and headed 'Story of Eriol's Life', the mariner who came to Tol Eressea is brought into relation with the tradition of the invasion of Britain by Hengest and Horsa in the fifth century A.
This was a matter to which my father gave much time and thought; be lectured on it at Oxford and developed certain original theories, especially in connection with the appearance of Hengest in Beowulf.
History of Middle Earth All 12 Vols .pdf
Tolkien, Finn and Hengest, ed. Alan Bliss, Old English poetic vocabulary meaning 'horse' ; and Eoh was slain by his brother Beorn in Old English 'warrior', but originally meaning 'bear', as does the cognate word bjorn in Old Norse; cf. Beorn the shape-changer in The Hobbit. Eoh and Beorn were the sons of Heden 'the leather and fur clad', and Heden like many heroes of Northern legend traced his ancestry to the god Woden. In other notes there are other connections and combinations, and since none of this story was written as a coherent narrative these names are only of significance as showing the direction of my father's thought at that time.
Then sea-longing gripped Ottor Waefre: If a beam from Earendel fall on a child new-born he becomes 'a child of Earendel' and a wanderer. After the death of Cwen Ottor left his young children. Hengest and Horsa avenged Eoh and became great chieftains; but Ottor Waefre set out to seek, and find, Tol Eressea, here called in Old English se uncu pa holm, 'the unknown island'.
Tolkien, J R R - The History of Middle-Earth - 02
Various things are told in these notes about Eriol's sojourn in Tol Eressea which do not appear in The Book of Lost Tales, but of these I need here only refer to the statements that 'Eriol adopted the name of Angol' and that he was named by the Gnomes the later Noldor, see p.
This certainly refers to the ancient homeland of the 'English' before their migration across the North Sea to Britain: Old English Angel, Angul, modern German Angeln, the region of the Danish peninsula between the Flensburg fjord and the river Schlei, south of the modern Danish frontier. From the west coast of the peninsula it is no very great distance to the island of Heligoland. In another place Angol is given as the Gnomish equivalent of Eriollo, which names are said to be those of 'the region of the northern part of the Great Lands, "between the seas", whence Eriol came'.
On these names see further under Eriol in the Appendix on Names. It is not to be thought that these notes represent in all respects the story of Eriol as my father conceived it when he wrote The Cottage of Lost Play -- in any case, it is said expressly there that Eriol means 'One who dreams alone', and that 'of his former names the story nowhere tells' p. But what is important is that according to the view that I have formed of the earliest conceptions, apparently the best explanation of the very difficult evidence this was still the leading idea when it was written: He belongs to the period preceding the Anglo-Saxon invasions of Britain as my father, for his purposes, wished to represent it.
Later, his name changed to AElfwine 'Elf-friend' , the mariner became an Englishman of the 'Anglo-Saxon period' of English history, who sailed west over sea to Tol Eressea -- he sailed from England out into the Atlantic Ocean; and from this later conception comes the very remarkable story of AElfwine of England, which will be given at the end of the Lost Tales.
But in the earliest conception he was not an Englishman of England: England in the sense of the land of the English did not yet exist; for the cardinal fact made quite explicit in extant notes of this conception is that the Elvish isle to which Eriol came was England -- that is to say, Tol Eressea would become England, the land of the English, at the end of the story. The great tower or tirion that Ingil son of Inwe built p.
None of this is explicit in the written Tales, and is only found in notes independent of them; but it seems certain that it was still present when The Cottage of Lost Play was written and indeed, as I shall try to show later, underlies all the Tales. The fair copy that my mother made of it was dated February From until her marriage in March she lived in Warwick and my father visited her them from Oxford; after their marriage she lived for a while at Great Haywood east of Stafford , since it was near the camp where my father was stationed, and after his return from France he was at Great Haywood in the winter of -- Thus the identification of Tol Eressean Tavrobel with Great Haywood cannot be earlier than , and the fair copy of The Cottage of Lost Play and quite possibly the original composition of it was actually done there.
In November my father wrote a poem entitled Kortirion among the Trees which was dedicated to Warwick. Now on a time the fairies dwelt in the Lonely Isle after the great wars with Melko and the ruin of Gondolin; and they builded a fair city amidmost of that island, and it was girt with trees. Now this city they called Kortirion, both in memory of their ancient dwelling of Kor in Valinor, and because this city stood also upon a hill and had a great tower tall and grey that Ingil son of Inwe their lord let raise.
Very beautiful was Kortirion and the fairies loved it, and it became rich in song and poesy and the light of laughter; but on a time the great Faring Forth was made, and the fairies had rekindled once more the Magic Sun of Valinor but for the treason and faint hearts of Men. See Letters, p. And it seems to the fairies and it seems to me who know that town and have often trodden its disfigured ways that autumn and the falling of the leaf is the season of the year when maybe here or there a heart among Men may be open, and an eye perceive how is the world's estate fallen from the laughter and the loveliness of old.
Think on Kortirion and be sad -yet is there not hope? Both here and in The Cottage of Lost Play there are allusions to events still in the future when Eriol came to Tol Eressea; and though the full exposition and discussion of them must wait until the end of the Tales it needs to be explained here that 'the Faring Forth' was a great expedition made from Tol Eressea for the rescue of the Elves who were still wandering in the Great Lands -- cf.
Lindo's words pp. At that time Tol Eressea was uprooted, by the aid of Ulmo, from the seabottom and dragged near to the western shores of the Great Lands.
In the battle that followed the Elves were defeated, and fled into hiding in Tol Eressea; Men entered the isle, and the fading of the Elves began. The subsequent history Of Tol Eressea is the history of England; and Warwick is 'disfigured Kortirion', itself a memory of ancient Kor the later Tirion upon Tuna, city of the Elves in Aman; in the Lost Tales the name Kor is used both of the city and the hill. Later in the Tales it is said to Eriol by Meril-i-Turinqi that 'Inwe was the eldest of the Elves, and had lived yet in majesty had he not perished in that march into the world; but Ingil his son went long ago back to Valinor and is with Manwe'.
In The Silmarillion, on the other hand, it is said of Ingwe that 'he entered into Valinor [in the beginning of the days of the Elves] and sits at the feet of the Powers, and all Elves revere his name; but he came never back, nor looked again upon Middle-earth' p. Lindo's words about the sojourn of Ingil in Tol Eressea 'after many days', and the interpretation of the name of his town Koromas as 'the Resting of the Exiles of Kor', refer to the return of the Eldar from the Great Lands after the war on Melko Melkor, Morgoth for the deliverance of the enslaved Noldoli.
His words about his father Valwe 'who went with Noldorin to find the Gnomes' refer to an element in this story of the expedition from Kor. This latter element was soon lost in its entirety from the developing mythology. Later in the Lost Tales, however, there are again references to Olore Malle.
After the description of the Hiding of Valinor, it is told that at the bidding of Manwe who looked on the event with sorrow the Valar Orome and Lorien devised strange paths from the Great Lands to Valinor and the way of Lorien'sdevising was Olore Malle, the Path of Dreams; by this road, when 'Men were yet but. There are two further mentions in tales to be given in Part II: There is also a poem on the subject of the Cottage of Lost Hay, which has many of the details of the description in the prose text.
This poem, according to my father's notes, was composed at 59 St John's Street, Oxford, his undergraduate lodgings, on April when he was It exists as is constantly the case with the poems in several versions, each modified in detail from the preceding one, and the end of the poem was twice entirely rewritten. I give it here first in the earliest form, with changes made to this in notes at the foot of the page, and then in the final version, the date of Which cannot be certainly determined.
I suspect that it was very much later -- and may indeed have been one of the revisions made to old poems when the collection The Adven-ture s of Tom Bombadil was being prepared, though it not mentioned in my father's correspondence on that subThe original title was: Mar Vanwa Tyalieva.
The verse-lines are in- dented as in the original texts. We wandered shyly hand in hand, 15 Or rollicked in the fairy sand And gathered pearls and shells in pails, While all about the nightingales Were singing in the trees.
We dug for silver with our spades 20 By little inland sparkling seas, Then ran ashore through sleepy glades And down a warm and winding lane We never never found again Between high whispering trees. And all the paths were full of shapes, Of tumbling happy white-clad shapes, And with them You and Me.
Two children did we stray and talk Wise, idle, childish things. And with his grey hand led us back; 60 And why we never found the same Old cottage, or the magic track That leads between a silver sea And those old shores and gardens fair Where all things are, that ever were We know not, You and Me. This is the final version of the poem: We wandered shyly hand in hand, 15 small footprints in the golden sand, and gathered pearls and shells in pails, while all about the nightingales Though long we looked, and high would climb, Or gaze from many a seaward shore To find the path between sea and sky To those old gardens of delight; And how it goes now in that land, If there the house and gardens stand, Still filled with children clad in white -We know not, You and I.
We dug for silver with our spades, and caught the sparkle of the seas, then ran ashore to greenlit glades, and found the warm and winding lane that now we cannot find again, between tall whispering trees. New-built it was, yet very old, white, and thatched with straws of gold, and pierced with peeping lattices that looked toward the sea; and our own children's garden-plots were there: There all the borders, trimmed with box, were filled with favourite flowers, with phlox, with lupins, pinks, and hollyhocks, beneath a red may-tree; and all the gardens full of folk that their own little language spoke, but not to You and Me.
And some were clambering on the roof; some crooning lonely and aloof; some dancing round the fairy-rings all garlanded in daisy-strings, while some upon their knees before a little white-robed king crowned with marigold would sing their rhymes of long ago. But side by side a little pair with heads together, mingled hair, l went walking to and fro 60 still hand in hand; and what they said, ere Waking far apart them led, that only we now know. I shall not attempt any analysis or offer any elucidation of the ideas embodied in the 'Cottages of the Children'.
The reader, however he interprets them, will in any case not need to be assisted in his perception of the personal and particular emotions in which all was still anchored.
As I have said, the conception of the coming of mortal children in sleep to the gardens of Valinor was soon to be abandoned in its entirety, and in the developed mythology there would be no place for it -- still less for the idea that in some possible future day 'the roads through Arvalin to Valinor shall be thronged with the sons and daughters of Men'.
Likewise, all the 'elfin' diminutiveness soon disappeared. The idea of the Cottage of the Children was aIready in being in , as the poem You and Me shows; and it was in the same year, indeed on the same days of April, that Goblin Feet or Cumap pa Nihtielfas was written, concerning which my father said in See Humphrey Carpenter, Biography, p.
In this connection, the diminutiveness of the Cottage is very strange since it seems to be a diminutiveness peculiar to itself: Eriol, who has travelled for many days through Tol Eressea, is astonished that the dwelling can hold so many, and he is told that all who enter it must be, or must become, very small.
But Tol Eressea is an island inhabited by Elves. The prose introduction to the early form has been cited on pp. A major revision was made in ; and another much later; by this time it was almost a different poem. Since my father sent it to Rayner Unwin in February as a possible candidate for inclusion in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, it seems virtually certain that the final version dates from that time.
In one of the earliest copies it bears a title in Old English: Cor Tirion pAElfwinera paera beama on middes, and is 'dedicated to Warwick'; but in another the second title is in Elvish the second word is not perfectly legible: Narquelion la.. This is not precisely accurate, since letters to my mother survive that were written from the camp on November 25 and 26, in the second of which he says that he has 'written out a pencil copy of "Kortirion" '.
In his letter my father said: Sing of thy trees, old, old Kortirion! Thine oaks, and maples with their tassels on, 25 Thy singing poplars; and the splendid yews That crown thine aged walls and muse Of sombre grandeur all the day -Until the twinkle of the early stars Is tangled palely in their sable bars; 30 Until the seven lampads of the Silver Bear Swing slowly in their shrouded hair And diadem the fallen day. When bannered summer is unfurled 35 Most full of music am thine elms -A gathered sound that overwhelms The voices of all other trees.
Sing then of elms, belov'd Kortirion, How summer crowds their full sails on, 40 Like clothed masts of verdurous ships, A fleet of galleons that proudly slips Across long sunlit seas. The holy fairies and immortal elves That dance among the trees and sing themselves A wistful song of things that were, and could be yet. They pass and vanish in a sudden breeze, A wave of bowing grass -- and we forget Their tender voices like wind-shaken bells Of flowers, their gleaming hair like golden asphodels.
Spring still hath joy: A sad and haunting magic note, A strand of silver glass remote. Strange sad October robes her dewy furze In netted sheen of gold-shot gossamers, 80 85 And then the wide-umbraged elm begins to fail; Her mourning multitudes of leaves go pale.
Seeing afar the icy shears Of Winter, and his blue-tipped spears Marching unconquerable upon the sun Of bright All-Hallows. Then their hour is done, And wanly borne on wings of amber pale They beat the wide airs of the fading vale And fly like birds across the misty meres.
The Third Verses Yet is this season dearest to my heart, Most fitting to the little faded town With sense of splendid pomps that now depart In mellow sounds of sadness echoing down 90 The paths of stranded mists. The fairies know thy early crystal dusk And put in secret on their twilit hoods 95 Of grey and filmy purple, and long bands Of frosted starlight sewn by silver hands.
They know the season of the brilliant night, When naked elms entwine in cloudy lace The Pleiades, and long-armed poplars bar the light Of golden-rondured moons with glorious face. They leave behind for ever havens throng'd Wherein their crews a while held feasting long And gorgeous ease, who now like windy ghosts Are wafted by slow airs to empty coasts; There are they sadly glimmering borne Across the plumbless ocean of oblivion.
Bare are thy trees become, Kortirion, And all their summer glory swiftly gone. The seven lampads of the Silver Bear Are waxen to a wondrous flare That flames above the fallen year. Though cold thy windy squares and empty streets; Though elves dance seldom in thy pale retreats Save on some rare and moonlit night, A flash, a whispering glint of white , Yet would I never need depart from here.
The Last Verse I need not know the desert or md palaces Where dwells the sun, the great seas or the magic isles, The pinewoods piled on mountain-terraces; And calling faintly down the windy miles Touches my heart no distant bell that rings In populous cities of the Earthly Kings.
Here do I find a haunting ever-near content Set midmost of the Land of withered Elms Alalminore of the Faery Realms ; Here circling slowly in a sweet lament Linger the holy fairies and immortal elves Singing a song of faded longing to themselves. I give next the text of the poem as my father rewrote it in , in the later of slightly variant forms.
Kortirion among the Trees I 0 fading town upon an inland hill, Old shadows linger in thine ancient gate, Thy robe is grey, thine old heart now is still; 5 10 Thy towers silent in the mist await Their crumbling end, while through the storeyed elms The Gliding Water leaves these inland realms, And slips between long meadows to the Sea, Still bearing downward over murmurous falls One day and then another to the Sea; And slowly thither many years have gone, Since first the Elves here built Kortirion.
The beech on hill, the willow in the fen, The rainy poplars, and the frowning yews Within thine aged courts that muse In sombre splendour all the day; Until the twinkle of the early stars Comes glinting through their sable bars, And the white moon climbing up the sky Looks down upon the ghosts of trees that die Slowly and silently from day to day. Then full of music were thine elms: Green was their armour, green their helms, The Lords and Kings of all thy trees.
Sing, then, of elms, renowned Kortirion, That under summer crowds their full sail on, And shrouded stand like masts of verdurous ships, A fleet of galleons that proudly slips Across long sunlit seas. Thou art the inmost province of the fading isle, Where linger yet the Lonely Companies; 45 Still, undespairing, here they slowly file Along thy paths with solemn harmonies: The holy people of an elder day, Immortal Elves, that singing fair and fey Of vanished things that were, and could be yet, SO Pass like a wind among the rustling trees, A wave of bowing grass, and we forget Their tender voices like wind-shaken bells Of flowers, their gleaming hair like golden asphodels.
The Peoples of Middle-earth (The History of Middle-earth, #12)
Then all thy trees, Kortirion, were bent, And shook with sudden whispering lament: For passing were the days, and doomed the nights When flitting ghost-moths danced as satellites Round tapers in the moveless air; And doomed already were the radiant dawns, The fingered sunlight drawn across the lawns; The odour and the slumbrous noise of meads, Where all the sorrel, flowers, and plumed weeds Go down before the scyther's share.
When cool October robed her dewy furze In netted sheen of gold-shot gossamers, Then the wide-umbraged elms began to fail; Their mourning multitude of leaves grew pale, Seeing afar the icy spears 80 Of Winter marching blue behind the sun Of bright All-Hallows.
Then their hour was done, And wanly borne on wings of amber pale They beat the wide airs of the fading vale, And flew like birds across the misty meres.
III 85 This is the season dearest to the heart, And time most fitting to the ancient town, With waning musics sweet that slow depart Winding with echoed sadness faintly down The paths of stranded mist.
The Elves go silent by, their shining hair They cloak in twilight under secret hoods Of grey, and filmy purple, and long bands 95 Of frosted starlight sewn by silver hands.
And oft they dance beneath the roofless sky, When naked elms entwine in branching lace The Seven Stars, and through the boughs the eye Stares golden-beaming in the round moon's face. Now are thy trees, old Grey Kortirion, Through pallid mists seen rising tall and wan, Like vessels floating vague, and drifting far Down opal seas beyond the shadowy bar Of cloudy ports forlorn; Leaving behind for ever havens loud, Wherein their crews a while held feasting proud And lordly ease, they now like windy ghosts Are wafted by slow airs to windy coasts, And glimmering sadly down the tide are borne.
Bare are thy trees become, Kortirion; The rotted raiment from their bones is gone. The seven candles of the Silver Wain, Like lighted tapers in a darkened fane, Now flare above the fallen year. Though court and street now cold and empty lie, And Elves dance seldom neath the barren sky, Yet under the white moon there is a sound Of buried music still beneath the ground.
When winter comes, I would meet winter here. For hem is heartsease still, and deep content, Though sadness haunt the Land of withered Elms Alalminore in the Faery Realms ; And making music still in sweet lament The Elves here holy and immortal dwell, And on the stones and trees there lies a spell.
I give lastly the final poem, in the second of two slightly different versions; composed as I believe nearly half a century after the first. The Trees of Kortirion I Alalminore 0 ancient city on a leaguered hill! Old shadows linger in your broken gate, Your stones are grey, your old halls now are still, Your towers silent in the mist await 5 Their crumbling end, while through the storeyed elms The River Gliding leaves these inland realms And slips between long meadows to the Sea, Still bearing down by weir and murmuring fall One day and then another to the Sea; 10 And slowly thither many days have gone Since first the Edain built Kortirion.
Upon your island hill With winding streets, and alleys shadow-walled Where even now the peacocks pace in drill 15 Majestic, sapphirine and emerald, Once long ago amid this sleeping land Of silver rain, where still year-laden stand In unforgetful earth the rooted trees That cast long shadows in the bygone noon, 20 And whispered in the swiftly passing breeze, Once long ago, Queen of the Land of Elms, High City were you of the Inland Realms. Your trees in summer you remember still: The willow by the spring, the beech on hill; 25 The rainy poplars, and the frowning yews Within your aged courts that muse In sombre splendour all the day, Until the firstling star comes glimmering, And flittermice go by on silent wing; 30 Until the white moon slowly climbing sees In shadow-fields the sleep-enchanted trees Night-mantled all in silver-grey.
Here was your citadel, Ere bannered summer from his fortress fell; 35 About you stood arrayed your host of elms: Green was their armour, tall and green their helms, High lords and captains of the trees. But summer wanes. Behold, Kortirion! The elms their full sail now have crowded on 40 Ready to the winds, like masts amid the vale Of mighty ships too soon, too soon, to sail To other days beyond these sunlit seas.
Green heart of this Isle Where linger yet the Faithful Companies! The Fair, the first-born in an elder day, Immortal Elves, who singing on their way Of bliss of old and grief, though men forget, 50 Pass like a wind among the rustling trees, A wave of bowing grass, and men forget Their voices calling from a time we do not know, Their gleaming hair like sunlight long ago.
The turning of the year. A shiver in the reeds beside the stream, A whisper in the trees -- afar they hear, Piercing the heart of summer's tangled dream, Chill music that a herald piper plays Foreseeing winter and the leafless days.
The late flowers trembling on the ruined walls Already stoop to hear that elven-flute. Through the wood's sunny aisles and tree-propped halls Winding amid the green with clear cold note Like a thin strand of silver glass remote. At morn the whetstone rang upon the blade, At eve the grass and golden flowers were laid To wither, and the meadows bare.
The days are passing. Round tapers in the windless air. The Harvest-moon has waned. Summer is dying that so briefly reigned. Now the proud elms at last begin to quail, Their leaves uncounted tremble and grow pale, Seeing afar the icy spears 80 Of winter march to battle with the sun. When bright All-Hallows fades, their day is done, And borne on wings of amber wan they fly In heedless winds beneath the sullen sky, And fall like dying birds upon the meres.
Kortirion, Queen of Elms, alas! This season best befits your ancient town With echoing voices sad that slowly pass, Winding with waning music faintly down The paths of stranded mist. Unseen the Elves go by, their shining hair They cloak in twilight under secret hoods Of grey, their dusk-blue mantles gird with bands 95 Of frosted starlight sewn by silver hands. At night they dance beneath the roofless sky, When naked elms entwine in branching lace The Seven Stars, and through the boughs the eye Stares down cold-gleaming in the high moon's face.
You crossed wide seas unto this mortal shore. Now are your trees, old grey Kortirion, Through pallid mists seen rising tall and wan, Like vessels vague that slowly drift afar Out, out to empty seas beyond the bar Of cloudy ports forlorn; Leaving behind for ever havens loud, Wherein their crews a while held feasting proud In lordly ease, they now like windy ghosts Are wafted by cold airs to friendless coasts, And silent down the tide are borne.
Bare has your realm become, Kortirion, Stripped of its raiment, and its splendour gone. Like lighted tapers in a darkened fane The funeral candles of the Silver Wain Now flare above the fallen year. Winter is come. Beneath the barren sky The Elves are silent. But they do not die! Here waiting they endure the winter fell And silence.
Here I too will dwell; Kortirion, I will meet the winter here. Here on the stones and trees there lies a spell Of unforgotten loss, of memory more blest Than mortal wealth. Here undefeated dwell The Folk Immortal under withered elms, Alalminore once in ancient realms. I conclude this commentary with a note on my father's use of the word Gnomes for the Noldor, who in the Lost Tales are called Noldoli.
He continued to use it for many years, and it still appeared in earlier editions of The Hobbit. I have sometimes not in this book used 'Gnomes' for Noldor and 'Gnomish' for Noldorin. This I did, for whatever Paracelsus may have thought if indeed he invented the name to some 'Gnome' will still suggest knowledge. Now the Highelven name of this people, Noldor, signifies Those who Know; for of the three kindreds of the Eldar from their beginning the Noldor were ever distinguished both by their knowledge of things that are and were in this world, and by their desire to know more.
Yet they in no way resembled the Gnomes either of learned theory or popular fancy; and I have now abandoned this rendering as too misleading. For the Noldor belonged to a race high and beautiful, the elder Children of the world, who now are gone. Tall they were, fair-skinned and greyeyed, and their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod Two words are in question: Paracelsus 'says that the beings so called have the earth as their element The O.
This note is repeated from that in The Letters of J. This passage -- referring to the Quendi as a whole -- continues however with the same words as in the draft: They were tall, fair of skin and grey-eyed, though their locks were dark, save in the golden house of Finrod But I am unable to determine how this extraordinary perversion of meaning arose.
Finarfin was Finrod, and Finrod was Inglor, until the second edition of The Lord of the Rings, and in this instance the change was overlooked. This follows on directly from Vaire's lastwords to Eriol on p.
The only indication of date for the Link and the Music which were, I think, written at the same time is a letter of my father's of July Letters p.
He took up the post on the Oxford Dictionary in November and relinquished it in the spring of Biography pp.
If his recollection was correct, and them is no evidence to set against it, some two years or more elapsed between The Cottage of Lost Play and The Music of the Ainur. The Link between the two exists in only one version, for the text in ink was written over a draft in pencil that was wholly erased. Indeed I would fain know who be these Valar; are they the Gods? Send now for the candles of sleep, and more tales to his head's filling and his heart's satisfying the wanderer shall have on the morrow.
Thereupon came in those that bore the candles of sleep, and each of that company took one, and two of the folk of the house bade Eriol follow them. One of these was the door-ward who had opened to his knocking before.
He was old in appearance and grey of locks, and few of that folk were so; but the other had a weather-worn face and blue eyes of great merriment, and was very slender and small, nor might one say if he were fifty or ten thousand.
Now that was Ilverin or Littleheart. These two guided him down the corridor of broidered stories to a great stair of oak, and up this he followed them.
It wound up and round until it brought them to a passage lit by small pendent lamps of coloured glass, whose swaying cast a spatter of bright hues upon the floors and hangings. In this passage the guides turned round a sudden corner, then going down a few dark steps flung open a door before him.
Now bowing they wished him good sleep, and said Littleheart: Here was all the furniture of dark wood, and as his great candle flickered its soft rays worked a magic with the room, till it seemed to him that sleep was the best of all delights, but that fair chamber the best of all for sleep. Ere he laid him down however Eriol opened the window and scent of flowers gusted in therethrough, and a glimpse he caught of a shadow-filled garden that was full of trees, but its spaces were barred with silver lights and black shadows by reason of the moon; yet his window seemed very high indeed above those lawns below, and a nightingale sang suddenly in a tree nearby.
Then slept Eriol, and through his dreams there came a music thinner and more pure than any he heard before, and it was full of longing. Indeed it was as if pipes of silver or flutes of shape most slender-delicate uttered crystal notes and threadlike harmonies beneath the moon upon the lawns; and Eriol longed in his sleep for he knew not what.
When he awoke the sun was rising and there was no music save that of a myriad of birds about his window. The light struck through the panes and shivered into merry glints, and that room with its fragrance and its pleasant draperies seemed even sweeter than before; but Eriol arose, and robing himself in fair garments laid ready for him that he might shed his raiment stained with.
Therein was a lattice-gate that opened to his hand and led into that garden whose lawns were spread beneath the window of his room. There he wandered breathing the airs and watching the sun rise above the strange roofs of that town, when behold the aged door-ward was before him, coming along a lane of hazel-bushes. He saw not Eriol, for he held his head as ever bent towards the earth, and muttered swiftly to himself; but Eriol spake bidding him good morrow, and thereat he started. Then said he: I marked you not, for I was listening to the birds.
Indeed sir you find me in a sour temper; for lo! It irks me sir, it irks me, for methought at least I knew the simple speeches of all birds. I have a mind to send him down to Mandos for his pertness! Know you that the Noldoli grow old astounding slow, and yet have I grey hairs in the study of all the tongues of the Valar and of Eldar.
Long ere the fall of Gondolin, good sir, I lightened my thraldom under Melko in learning the speech of all monsters and gob- lins -- have I not conned even the speeches of beasts, disdaining not the thin voices of the voles and mice?
Nay, I have worried at whiles even over the tongues of Men, but Melko take them! Wherefore is it that this morn I felt as Omar the Vala who knows all tongues, as I hearkened to the blending of the voices of the birds comprehending each, recognising each well-loved tune, when tiripti lirilla here comes a bird, an imp of Melko -- but I weary you sir, with babbling of songs and words. If my eyes deceive not, for a good age of years you have cared for this garden.
Then must you know store of songs and tongues sufficient to comfort the heart of the greatest of all sages, if indeed this be the first voice that you have heard therein, and lacked its interpretation. Is it not said that the birds of every district, nay almost of every nest, speak unalike? It is precisely this sort of mystery that would have intrigued J. In the pages that follow we discuss each of these three modes in detail, determining the meaning and etymology of their Sindarin names, as well as explaining how these names describe defining characteristics of the verse modes to which they refer.
My concern is with them, insofar as space permits, as poetry. It has no literal reference, nor even a metaphoric one.
In its modern appearance it is now a mere fossil, one of the myriad words in English or any language whose bones are preserved as shape and sound, but whose living embodiment has decayed and fallen away. Tolkien has reimagined the concept of elf-friend, created a world in which such a figure could live and move, and bestowed the name or epithet on some of his most memorable characters.
Tolkien and C. Lewis to write a time-travel story, and the way in which all three grew out of their bargain for each to write a thriller in the form of a space- or time-travel story.
I believe that in their genesis these stories are inextricably linked; therefore we will take a close look into their origin in the bargain, a review of the events leading up to it, evidence for their dates of composition, and the strikingly different ways these works deal with common themes.
Finally, I will offer reasons why these stories remained unfinished and almost unknown until the efforts of Christopher Tolkien and Walter Hooper made them available at last, decades after their authors had moved on to other works.
In The Lord of the Rings , mythological borrowings are often more implied than manifest. In these History books to speak of them collectively , mythological echoes are altogether more evident, more imitative, and more easily understood. Tolkien and his works. These are too little known, undeservedly neglected, and worth the effort of searching out. Not because he was tired of the Tree, but he seemed to have got it all clear in his mind now, and was aware of it, and of its growth, even when he was not looking at it.
As he walked away, he discovered an odd thing: the Forest, of course, was a distant Forest, yet he could approach it, even enter it, without its losing that particular charm.
He had never before been able to walk into the distance without it turning into mere surroundings. It really added a considerable attraction to walking in the country, because, as you walked, new distances opened out; so that you now had double, treble, and quadruple distances, doubly, trebly, and quadruply enchanting. You could go on and on, and have a whole country in a garden, or in a picture if you preferred to call it that.Mablung replaced Tifanto, and again immediately below; see note Now the gates of Angamandi were of iron wrought hideously and set with knives and spikes, and before them lay the greatest wolf the world has ever seen, even Karkaras Knife-fang who had never slept; and Karkaras growled when he saw Tinuviel approach, but of the cat he took not much heed, for he thought little of cats and they were ever passing in and out.
This matter is perfectly illustrated for me by Gimli's song in Moria, where great names out of the ancient world appear utterly remote: The world was fair, the mountains tall In Elder Days before the fall Of mighty kings in Nargothrond And Gondolin, who now beyond The Western Seas have passed away Provided that the reader has a place, a point of vantage, in the imagined time from which to look back, the extreme oldness of the extremely old can be made apparent and made to be felt continuously.
This, surely, is not how things work, or at least not how they need work. I cannot explain why my father should have made this crossreference to the Foreword: Concerning Hobbits, in order to point out that it is misleading, nor why he should have retained it without this caveat - in his revision of P 2.
Speaking softly the deep tongue of the Lost Elves he bade her be not afeared, and "wherefore," said he, "do I see an Elfin maiden, and one most fair, wandering thus nigh to the places of the Prince of Evil Heart?
Now Tevildo seeing Beren narrowed his eyes until they seemed to shut, and said: