Unlike the Sindarin name Celduin – which simply means “large flowing river” from “cell” (adj. “running, flowing”) + “duin” (“big and large river”), a meaning we also see used in “river Running”, the word for the river Running in Dwarvish is “Aklah’ân”, meaning “Source River”.
Stunning art “The Front Gate” by Alan Lee (In which we see the river Running)..
It is likely the word here finds its origin in the fact that Halls of Erebor were built upon, around and even far beneath the source of the river, to eventually pour out of the Front Gate of the Lonely Mountain. The river source thus was so prominent in Erebor, that it simply became known as “The Source River”.
Ever at your service,
The Dwarrow Scholar
Curator Naomi Speakman of the British Museum gives us a quick guided tour of medieval jewelry, with a focus on their symbolic properties and history.
This was so obvious when I realized it, but I think most people miss
it, because we’re so desensitized by D&D-style magic with immediate,
visibly, flashy effects, rather than more subtle and invisible forces
of magic. When Gollum attacks Frodo on the slopes of Mount Doom, Frodo
has the chance to kill him, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says:
Frodo: Go! And if you ever lay hands on me again, you yourself shall be cast into the Fire!
Frodo’s not just talking shit here. He is literally, magically laying a curse. He’s holding the One Ring in his hands as he says it;
even Sam, with no magic powers of his own, can sense that some powerful
mojo is being laid down. Frodo put a curse on Gollum: if you try to
take the Ring again, you’ll be cast into the Fire.
Five pages later, Gollum tries to take the Ring again. And that’s exactly what happens.
Frodo’s geas takes effect and Gollum eats lava.
On further reflection:
All the other people in the franchise who were offered the Ring declined to take it because they were wise enough to know that if they used its power – and the pressure to do so would be too great – they would be subject to its corruption.
Frodo uses the power of the Ring to lay a geas, and then five minutes later at the volcano’s edge, succumbs to its corruption. The Ring has gotten to him and he can no longer give it up. Because he used its power.
On further further reflection: I’d have to read the section again, but I recall that after throwing Gollum off and laying the geas, Sam observes that Frodo seems suddenly filled with energy again when previously he had been close to dead of fatigue. He hikes up the mountain so fast he leaves Sam behind – and doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s left him behind.
Could he have been drawing on the Ring’s power at this point in the story?
At this point in the story we’re relying on Sam’s narration, and Sam doesn’t know what’s going on in Frodo’s head, so it’s hard to say for sure.
Having used it once, after spending so long holding out against it, was that the breach in the dam?
Which means that the moment that Frodo succumbs to temptation is not the moment at the volcano – it was already too late by then. The moment he is taken by temptation was when he used the power of the Ring to repel Gollum.
If so, this ties in neatly with discussions I’ve seen about how Tolkien subscribes to a “not even once” view of good and evil – that in many other works it’s acceptable to do a small evil in service of a greater good, but in Lord of the Rings that always fails.
Re-reading Fellowship of the Rings, and I got to this passage in Lorien:
‘I would ask one thing before we go,’ said Frodo, ‘a thing which I often meant to ask Gandalf in Rivendell. I am permitted to wear the One Ring: why cannot I see all the others and know the thoughts of those that wear them?’
‘You have not tried,’ [Galadriel] said. ‘Only thrice have you set the Ring upon your finger since you knew what you possessed. Do not try! It would destroy you. Did not Gandalf tell you that the rings give power according to the measure of each possessor? Before you could use that power you would need to become stronger, and to train your will to the domination of others.’
In other words:
Frodo asks Galadriel, herself carrying a Ring of Power, “Could I, hypothetically, use the power of the One Ring to do something magical aside from turning invisible?” and Galadriel replies, “Yes, hypothetically, you totally could, assuming the magic you want to do involves laying compulsions on others, but I strongly recommend against it, because it would fuck up your brain.”
This was in the first book. At the end of the third book Frodo uses the Ring to fuck Gollum up, forcing him to throw himself into lava if he disobeys Frodo’s commands.
Talk about a chekov’s gun.
Got to this point in my re-read and uh. This was a lot less subtle than I remembered it.
‘Down, down!’ [Frodo] gasped, clutching his hand to his breast, so that beneath the cover of his leather shirt he clasped the Ring. ‘Down, you creeping thing, and out of my path! Your time is at an end. You cannot slay me or betray me now.’
Then suddenly, Sam saw these two rivals with other vision. A crouching shape, scarcely more than the shadow of a living thing, a creature now wholly ruined and defeated, yet filled with a hideous lust and rage; and before it stood stern, untouchable now by pity, a figure robed in white, but at its breast it held a wheel of fire. Out of the fire there spoke a commanding voice.
‘Begone, and trouble me no more! If you touch me ever again, you shall be cast yourself into the Fire of Doom.’
Then the vision passed and Sam saw Frodo standing, hand on breast, his breath coming in great gasps, and Gollum at his feet, resting on his knees with his wide-splayed hands upon the ground.
A scholarly exploration of “deviant” or non-standard Norse burials– delving into beliefs of the unquiet dead, malevolent spirits, sorcery, ceremonial dedications, and apotropaic rituals for safely interning those who died in inauspicious circumstances.
Definitely a good read for those interested in the idea of restless corpses stirring in their cairns, or sorceresses buried with their items of power, secured firmly beneath stones for protection, or wanting inspiration for Viking-Age burials of peculiar individuals. (Funny, in all the cinematic depictions of Viking funerals, I don’t recall ever seeing a man walking backwards to light the pyre, stark naked and covering his anus… a dreadful oversight I feel.)
image: from source publication, artist’s renderings of some of the burials discussed in the text
Tolkien drew this design, incorporating Elvish lettering, on the back of an agenda for a meeting at Merton College, Oxford in 1957. It will be on display at the Bodleian’s Tolkien exhibition this summer. (source)
In Norse Mythology (and indeed also modern folk belief), the way in which humanoids can posses wings, fly or literally transform to a bird is to undergo a feathered transformation known as Fjærham/Fjederham (in modern Scandinavian tongue) or Fjaðrhamr (in Old Norse). Fjær/fjeder/fjaðr means “feather” and ham/hamr means the form or shape. So it literally translates as “feather-form”. The most prominent examples of “feather-form” are Freya’s feather cloak, which is used by Loki in Þrymskviða, the Norns who are said to transform into swans to travel midgard and the hero, Germand Gladensvend, from the Danish folk ballad of the same name.
Yet if the world grows again dark, the Lords must know; and they have sent me no sign. Unless this be the sign. What then? Our fathers were rewarded for the aid they gave in the defeat of the Great Shadow. Shall their sons stand aloof, if evil finds a new head?
“I am in too great doubt to rule. To prepare or to let be? To prepare for war, which is yet only guessed: train craftsmen and tillers in the midst of peace for bloodspilling and battle: put iron in the hands of greedy captains who will love only conquest, and count the slain as their glory? Will they say to Eru: At least your enemies were amongst them? Or to fold hands, while friends die unjustly: let men live in blind peace, until the ravisher is at the gate? What then will they do: match naked hands against iron and die in vain, or flee leaving the cries of women behind them? Will they say to Eru: At least I spilled no blood?
“When either way may lead to evil, of what worth is choice?
Tar-Meneldur, “The Mariner’s Wife,” Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle Earth by J.R.R. Tolkien (via vardasvapors)
Just in case you thought I was kidding – here’s the heraldry for the Mordor Special Mission Flying Corps, drawn by Tolkien himself.
“It apparently was a badge that applied to Sauron’s air-borne troops, probably including the later incarnations of the Nazgûl and, perhaps, any remaining dragons under Sauron’s command. The “wings” at the side of the emblem are given a feather-like texture, which might indicate that they were originally real wings. A mystifying scribble, saying “Seen from below”, actually hints that the emblem portrays one of Sauron’s flying creatures, and the small “horns” indicated between the wings and the body of the creature could then be the feet of someone riding the beast. But it is clear that if so, the portrait must be extremely stylized. On the wings can be seen the image of Sauron’s eye, multiplied like the eyes on peacock’s wings.” [x]
This is so undeniably cool. All I can imagine now is this Nazgul Flying Corps in WW2 outfit.
Just in case you thought I was kidding – here’s the heraldry for the Mordor Special Mission Flying Corps, drawn by Tolkien himself.
“It apparently was a badge that applied to Sauron’s air-borne troops, probably including the later incarnations of the Nazgûl and, perhaps, any remaining dragons under Sauron’s command. The “wings” at the side of the emblem are given a feather-like texture, which might indicate that they were originally real wings. A mystifying scribble, saying “Seen from below”, actually hints that the emblem portrays one of Sauron’s flying creatures, and the small “horns” indicated between the wings and the body of the creature could then be the feet of someone riding the beast. But it is clear that if so, the portrait must be extremely stylized. On the wings can be seen the image of Sauron’s eye, multiplied like the eyes on peacock’s wings.” [x]
Isildur said no word, but went out by night and did a deed for which he was afterwards renowned. For he passed alone in disguise to Armenelos and to the courts of the King, which were now forbidden to the Faithful; and he came to the place of the Tree, which was forbidden to all by the orders of Sauron, and the Tree was watched day and night by guards in his service. At that time Nimloth was dark and bore no bloom, for it was late in the autumn, and its winter was nigh; and Isildur passed through the guards and took from the Tree a fruit that hung upon it, and turned to go. But the guard was aroused, and he was assailed, and fought his way out, receiving many wounds; and he escaped, and because he was disguised it was not discovered who had laid hands on the Tree. But Isildur came at last hardly back to Rómenna and delivered the fruit to the hands of Amandil, ere his strength failed him. Then the fruit was planted in secret, and it was blessed by Amandil; and a shoot arose from it and sprouted in the spring. But when its first leaf opened then Isildur, who had lain long and come near to death, arose and was troubled no more by his wounds.
I was thinking about some of the ideas I was talking about earlier with respect to the orientation of maps in Middle-earth, and so I thought I’d draw out what one of the original maps from the Red Book of Westmarch might have looked like.
My name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of things they belong to in my language, in the Old Entish as you might say. It is a lovely language, but it takes a very long time saying anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth taking a long time to say, and to listen to.
Flattery savoured ever sweet in the nostrils of thst Ainu, and for all his unfathomed wisdom many a lie of those whom he despised deceived him, were thet clothed sweetly in words of praise;
Ir Ithil ammen Eruchîn
menel-vîr síla díriel
si loth a galadh lasto dîn!
A Hîr Annûn gilthoniel,
le linnon im Tinúviel!
[The Moon having watched for us Children of Eru
shines like a jewel in the sky
now flower and tree, listen silent!
O Lady of the West, star-kindler,
I sing to you, I, Nightingale!]
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