Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them,
One ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them
In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
There may be no other modern work which has so completely defined and
then overshadowed a genre as The Lord of the Rings. Written by John
Ronald Reuel (J.R.R.) Tolkien and published in the three volumes of The
Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King, The
Lord of the Rings tells the tale of a small, unlikely hero, the Hobbit
named Frodo Baggins, and his friends'involvement in a quest to destroy
the most powerful and malevolent device ever created in the world of
Middle-Earth.
The Lord of the Rings absolutely defines the "epic fantasy", and
influences virtually all other forms of fantasy, at least as much as E.
E. "Doc" Smith's works defined "space opera" and influenced most other
branches of SF in one way or another. However, where Doc's works have
faded from general knowledge and even the genre he invented has greatly
evolved away from its original roots, Tolkien's classic work remains
staggeringly successful, a towering presence that completely dominates
the field.
I first encountered The Hobbit as a few paragraphs in someone's report
in junior high school; it didn't grab me, probably because the selected
piece (Bilbo VS the spiders) lacked the background that makes that
confrontation so powerful to read. But later, in high school (possibly
even in that magic year of 1977) I was introduced to The Lord of the
Rings and The Hobbit, its supposed prequel, and I was immediately
captured, entranced by this world.
And it was the world that captured me. The characters of Lord of the
Rings are not terribly detailed as characters; while they have enough
quirks to make them distinct, they are for the most part archetypes
which Tolkien derived from his deep and broad knowledge of folktales,
myth, and legend. His characters are often powerful images because of
this, but at the same time they often leave considerable questions open
about what they're like as people outside of the requirements of the quest.
This isn't, of course, terribly important in this sort of book. The
point is the world and the quest, and these are extremely compelling.
Tolkien was originally drawn into this project by his love of languages;
he invented his first artificial language when he was quite young, and
to a great extent it was the desire to build these languages into a
comprehensible and sensible framework that underlay the construction of
Middle-Earth. This, combined with his very deep knowledge of myths and
legends and an interest in constructing a uniquely British myth-cycle of
his own, produced the universe of Lord of the Rings.
Certainly it was the Appendices – with their notes on language, on
unique alphabets which were not mere substitution ciphers of the
standard alphabet, fragments of legends and events thousands of years in
the past – that gave me the feeling of awesome spans of time and depths
of reality that infused Middle-Earth. I could see the immense work
devoted to that universe, and it was (and is) one of the few things that
left me feeling humbled when I contemplated what he had done, and how
much work had gone into that construction.
The work, of course, would be pointless if the story it supported
didn't work, but work it does. For some, the language is overwrought,
ponderous, and the story takes far too long to get moving; but to me,
the stage-setting of the Birthday Party, of the hints of danger
interspersed with the protagonist Frodo just mostly going on with his
life, are necessary parts of what comes after. We couldn't empathize so
much with Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin and their concern for their
homeland the Shire if we had not seen the Shire, and recognized how
precious that quiet, semi-hidden land is – how mundane, yet
extraordinary, just as are its inhabitants, the diminutive Hobbits.
Tolkien's vision pretty much defined all the key players in epic sagas
– the Old Wise Wizard, the Lost King, the Dark Lord, the small yet
important little persons, modern views of Dwarves, the noble Elves, etc.
– and yet it is interesting to note that many of the later
interpretations of those roles, though clearly inspired by Tolkien's,
almost invert them in practice.
Gandalf is called a wizard and is, in fact, a being of great power, yet
we almost never see him using that power. There are literally only a
handful of times in Lord of the Rings where he does anything magically
impressive. This contrasts with many other works, in which the defining
trait of a wizard/mage is that he throws around magic. D&D took this to
the extreme; low-level wizards are so fragile that if they didn't have
magic they'd be insane to step outdoors, while higher-level wizards can
level towns in a fit of pique.
Similarly, Aragorn is the Lost King, a descendant of an ancient line
destined to inherit the greatest mortal kingdom on the planet. Yet,
unlike many of his later parallels, his greatest fame and skill is not
being a great warrior – although he is one – but a great healer. It is
in fact this characteristic that is considered one of the signs that he
is, in fact, the destined King.
As another example, the primary antagonist of the entire trilogy, the
Dark Lord Sauron, isn't even seen directly at any point in the trilogy.
There is a brief vision of him in a Palantir by Pippin, and a few others
describe their views or visions of him, but in actuality the Big Bad
never puts in an appearance in the whole trilogy. There is no dramatic
confrontation, no Villain Rant, nothing. Sauron isn't even really a
character. For all the effect his personal actions have on the plot he
might as well be a natural disaster or a random encounter generator. In
other works, it is almost invariably the case that the Big Bad will, and
must, be confronted by the Heroes at the end of the series.
This kind of twisted distillation isn't unusual, of course; in my
writeup of Robert E. Howard's work I pointed out that Conan is often
envisioned by those unfamiliar with the original as a none-too-bright
musclebound killing machine, while in actuality Conan was close to, if
not actually, a genius, master of multiple languages and customs, a
thief and a tactician and strategist of great skill, with his own sense
of honor, decency, and fair play that often differentiated him from the
so-called "civilized" people around them.
The whole trilogy, in fact, spends considerable time undermining many
typical tropes of adventure fiction and many myths, making victory due
not to force of arms or heroic last stands or physical strength or
magic, but due to little people's dogged persistence, endurance,
dedication, and essential goodness that allows them to withstand the
lure of the most corruptive force in the world for vastly longer than
anyone else could manage. Victory is also clearly due to moral
superiority – the willingness to not kill when possible, to show mercy,
and to allow for a chance of redemption, even when it seems impossible.
To an extent, of course, it's also a highly religious story. In the
end, victory isn't due to any of the Hobbits' actions; it's due to
Smeagol/Gollum grabbing the Ring and falling off the edge, an event
which is very nearly said to be due to "providence", to in effect God
making sure things worked out that way. Gandalf discusses this with
Frodo – that he was meant to have the Ring, that Smeagol might still
have a part to play, and so on, all words that imply the need for Faith
and the existence of some sort of Grand Plan. The origin of Middle-Earth
itself, told in The Silmarillion, has very strongly Christian aspects.
The Lord of the Rings influenced me most strongly in the desire to,
somehow, create a world that would have the same level of impact as
Middle-Earth – something that would have depth and solidity so that when
a reader kicked it, they'd say "wow, that feels almost real."
I realized, after some attempts, that I would never achieve that by
trying to duplicate Tolkien's efforts; while I did invent some languages
of my own, they were and are pale, pale imitations of what he was
capable of doing, mostly existing for symbolic/flavor purposes. Instead,
I had to focus on what mattered to me – making a world that *worked*.
Zarathan isn't built on a deep linguistic base or from someone's
career-deep knowledge of real-world myth and legend, but from my desire
to construct a world that makes sense to me, while still being magical
and strange. The world, therefore, won't feel like Middle-Earth in
detail… yet I hope that, for some people at least, the sensation of
something huge, something as big as the world itself, will cause the
same little chill down their spines as I got from reading Lord of the Rings.
If I can achieve that, even for a moment… then I've learned at least
some of the lessons that Professor Tolkien was trying to teach.
--
Sea Wasp
/^\
;;;
Website:
http://www.grandcentralarena.com Blog:
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