It was the early seventies and I was a university freshman entering my dormitory for the first time. As I walked down the corridor, I couldn’t help but notice a large map painted on a wall, from floor to ceiling. The strange place names and geographical features could not have represented any place on Earth that I had ever heard of, yet the map was titled Middle Earth. Perhaps it was some very ancient map, when the Earth was different, like the Piri Reis map? At the time, I was unaware of the book that would become my literary companion for life, The Lord of the Rings, first published around the time of my birth. I would learn later that the painting was a reproduction of a map found in that same book and that the book’s author, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, had just died a few days earlier.
Although my curiosity was piqued, it wasn’t until the following summer that I found time to read the book. It roused my spirit like no other book, before or since. I read it every year for the next twenty years, then stopped counting. What brought me back to it long after I was thoroughly familiar with the plot? One attraction was the beauty of the prose. Some years, I would reread the book for no other reason than to savor every page. An example:
Gimli the Dwarf: And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities. such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains' heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.
But above all, what inspired me most was Tolkien’s understanding of the mysterious forces that shape our destiny, that he wove into his story. He was a great writer, yes, and could bring to life, with words, an inclusive world complete with languages, art, history, culture and theology. But I daresay he was also a mystic and incorporated a mystic’s experience of reality into his fantasy. He gave us insight into the the nature of Divinity and how the Divine acts through agents while always respecting free will. Some agents of Divinity, such as the wizard Gandalf, were consciously aware of a greater reality and of their assigned role which they willingly accepted.
Gandalf: I am a servant of the secret fire.
Others were motivated by love for their people, their homeland or the Earth itself. Still others were driven by baser motives such as a desire for power and domination. All were instruments, witting or unwitting, in an orchestration which culminated in the triumph of good. Not without tragedy, suffering and loss — but the triumph was all the greater for what it cost. No one person could have accomplished the victory; but every actor, no matter how small his role, was vital to the outcome. I haven’t yet come across a more accurate and at the same time more poetic insight into the mysterious forces behind the unfolding events in our reality.
We, the people of Earth, are in the midst of an epic drama at a time when dark forces seem to have the upper hand. Our faith is being tested, for the greater orchestration is beyond our ken. Even the very wise cannot see all ends and must simply do what they feel is right in whatever circumstances they find themselves in.
Frodo: What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature [Gollum], when he had a chance!
Gandalf: Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need.
…
Frodo: He deserves death.
Gandalf: Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many - yours not least.
Frodo: I wish it need not have happened in my time. [The finding of the Dark Lord Sauron’s evil ring of power by Gollum.]
Gandalf: So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given, us.
We are stuck in the worst parts of the story and are called to summon the courage needed to play the part assigned to us, big or small:
Frodo: I don't like anything here at all, step or stone, breath or bone. Earth, air and water all seem accursed. But so our path is laid.
Samwise: Yes, that's so. and we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually — their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on — and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same -- like old Mr Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we've fallen into?
Frodo: I wonder. But I don't know. And that's the way of a real tale. Take any one that you're fond of. You may know, or guess, what kind of a tale it is, happy-ending or sad-ending, but the people in it don't know. And you don't want them to.
Samwise: No, sir, of course not. Beren now, he never thought he was going to get that Silmaril from the Iron Crown in Thangorodrim, and yet he did, and that was a worse place and a blacker danger than ours. But that's a long tale, of course, and goes on past the happiness and into grief and beyond it — and the Silmaril went on and came to Edrendil. And why, sir, I never thought of that before! We've got — you've got some of the light of it in that star-glass that the Lady [Galadriel] gave you! Why, to think of it, we're in the same tale still! It's going on. Don't the great tales never end?
Frodo: No, they never end as tales. But the people in them come, and go when their part's ended. Our part will end later — or sooner.
Samwise: And then we can have some rest and some sleep. And I mean just that, Mr. Frodo. I mean plain ordinary rest, and sleep, and waking up to a morning's work in the garden. I'm afraid that's all I'm hoping for all the time. All the big important plans are not for my sort. Still, I wonder if we shall ever be put into songs or tales. We're in one, or course; but I mean: put into words, you know, told by the fireside, or read out of a great big book with red and black letters, years and years afterwards. And people will say: "Let's hear about Frodo and the Ring! " And they'll say: "Yes, that's one of my favourite stories. Frodo was very brave. wasn't he, dad?" "Yes, my boy, the famousest of the hobbits, and that's saying a lot."
Frodo: It's saying a lot too much.
And Frodo laughed, a long clear laugh from his heart. Such a sound had not been heard in those places since Sauron came to Middle-earth. To Sam suddenly it seemed as if all the stones were listening and the tall rocks leaning over them. But Frodo did not heed them; he laughed again.
Frodo: Why, Sam, to hear you somehow makes me as merry as if the story was already written. But you've left out one of the chief characters: Samwise the stouthearted. "I want to hear more about Sam, dad. Why didn't they put in more of his talk, dad? That's what I like, it makes me laugh. And Frodo wouldn't have got far without Sam, would he, dad?"
Samwise: Now, Mr. Frodo, you shouldn't make fun. I was serious.
Frodo: So was I, and so I am. We're going on a bit too fast. You and I, Sam, are still stuck in the worst places of the story, and it is all too likely that some will say at this point: "Shut the book now, dad; we don't want to read any more."
Samwise: Maybe, but I wouldn't be one to say that. Things done and over and made into part of the great tales are different. Why, even Gollum might be good in a tale, better than he is to have by you, anyway. And he used to like tales himself once, by his own account. I wonder if he thinks he's the hero or the villain?
We are in a great tale right now. The shadow of Mordor is spreading over the land, corrupting Men’s hearts. What is your part to play? Are you a warrior from Rohan or a healer from Gondor, a gardener from the Shire (as was Samwise) or a tree shepherd of Fangorn, the Queen of Lothlorien (as was Galadriel) or a wizard from across the Great Sea (as was Gandalf)? What is your gift, given to you so that you may use it on behalf of others? Do not think that your part is too small, your gift too insignificant, to make a difference. Leave all of that to Great Orchestrator. But if your gift is great, be humble, because you will be tested and even the great can fail their test.
When the Valar decided to send the order of the Wizards (Istari) across the Great Sea to Middle-earth to counsel and assist all those who opposed Sauron, Olórin [Gandalf] was proposed by Manwë [King of the Valar]. Olórin initially begged to be excused, declaring he was too weak and that he feared Sauron, but Manwë replied that that was all the more reason for him to go. — Unfinished Tales by J.R.R. Tolkien
The above quote is from Unfinished Tales, one of a series of books published by Tolkien’s son Christopher after his father’s death. In the introduction to The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien wrote that he agreed with one of his readers’ complaints that his novel is too short. Accordingly, fans of The Lord of the Rings can further explore the lore of Middle-earth, virtually to their heart’s content, through many volumes, beginning with The Silmarillion, not to mention The Hobbit, the prequel to The Lord of the Rings first published in 1937.
Christopher Tolkien, who died in 2020, was extremely critical of Peter Jackson’s film adaptations of his father’s works. I sympathised with Christopher’s reaction, having been almost traumatized by the plot distortions needlessly introduced into the films, although I appreciated the work of the visual effects team in bringing the landscape of Middle-earth to life, and I also appreciated Howard Shore’s inspired music score. The compelling performances of McKellen as Gandalf and Blanchette as Galadriel, the two characters I love most, offset my disappointment in other aspects of the film, leaving me with mixed feelings overall; but I cannot excuse the travesty that was the screenwriters’ corruption of the character of Faramir. Nevertheless, I believe that Tolkien’s novel was delivered to humanity to prepare it for the times we find ourselves in now and that the films have greatly multiplied the influence of the novel while retaining its essential message. But my advice to parents is to ensure that their children read the novel before seeing the films, so that their first experience of Tolkien’s work is unspoiled, with their imaginations free to form their own version of Middle-earth in their mind’s eye, directly from Tolkien’s words. Or, they could have them listen to the excellent audio book. My favorite visual renditions of the novel come not from the films but from the calendars of The Brothers Hildebrand:
Tolkien was an academic at Oxford University, specializing in philology. He is said to have fulfilled his duties there while somehow, in his spare time, apart from raising a family, creating an entire virtual world, complete with geography, histories, languages, poems and songs. A worthy film about his life was released in 2019, Tolkien. He was a close friend of another Oxford don, C.S. Lewis, one of my favorite authors. They were both men of faith.
I mentioned above that The Lord of the Rings is my literary companion for life. As I travel the path laid before me, one step at a time, not seeing very far ahead through the myst, except on those rare occasions when the myst parts a bit, I draw inspiration, understanding and strength from my guide book. When I look inward, I find components of my psyche that resemble various characters, even Gollum. Rather than deny or condemn them, I follow Gandalf’s compassionate example and strive for inner healing, which I believe contributes to healing the Earth: the outer always reflects the inner. Indeed, of all the characters in the novel, I most relate to Gandalf and strive to live up to his example. I am still the wizard’s apprentice.
My journey has taken me far from the lands of my youth, across an ocean, through the shadow of war, to the shores of a sea named Mediterranean, which probably comes from the Latin medius meaning “middle” and terra meaning “earth.” I walk to the sea most evenings and sit on the edge of a cliff where I can almost reach out and touch the sea birds hovering on the updrafts. I think of the Elf Legolas’s longing for the sea, triggered by the calls of seabirds, and I long to return home to the world of beauty and light beyond the Sundering Sea, which I have had a glimpse of. But, like Gandalf, I returned to complete my assigned task here in troubled Middle-earth.
I love this. Beautiful to read and so wise.
By chance or synchronicity my sister and I speaking yesterday were discussing roles in this large story, a story too long and too large to get your hands or minds around, and that really all one could do, was their part - whatever that was. How do you find your part? Well, we just know. We can't not do or be anything else right? And that feeling of "my role feels insignificant to the needs of the story" is part of our inability to see everything of course, so you just trust that what is yours to do, you'll do. We can't know.
I'm often frustrated by the focus of the trees (here's another study we can rip into) rather than the forest (hey, there's an attempt to take us all down!) and have to remind myself, again and again that I don't see the full story either - there is an orchestration well beyond my understanding and so... relax. Do your bit as itty-bitty as it seems. It's enough - to be servants of the secret fire.
What a lovely gift you have, and I'm truly grateful our roles in this grand (I suspect cosmic) story have intersected. Beautiful.
Lovely and well-written tribute to one of the greatest stories of all time. I first read these books in 6th grade and yearly until the count reached twelve.
My long love of this story is expressed and integrated within my home. My bookshelf finds upon itself many if not most works of the father, and of the son on the father’s writings. My record shelf finds within both vinyl of the author’s voice, soundtrack of the original movie and TV show sequel, calendar, and Mad magazine. Original-movie posters and other accoutrements adorn the study. DVDs of the old shows and new movies help to fill the drawers.
Sometimes the objects feel precious to me, but I realize that it is my love of the inspiring story and imagined world filled with interesting characters, and lessons of wisdom, that is most true and fulfilling.
Thank you for this write up and for bringing back wonderful excerpts from the text. I had forgotten about Gimli’s trip into Helm’s Deep. The time is near when I must revisit the love of my youth.
I too was chagrined at several changes and omissions, as if the goal was to keep those of is who had read the books guessing. On balance I feel they do a service by well presenting the wonders and horrors, and depicting the temptation moments of many major characters. The older movie, which I saw in theaters when it came out and have watched a few times in the last few years, seems to hold better to the books; it is a shame it did not have its deserved second part.
PS - What a wonderful group must The Inklings have been. As you probably know, but for some readers who may not, C.S.Lewis was not always a man of faith and found his own path to Christ.