Under Kenji Kamiyama’s taut direction, “The Lord of the Rings: The War of the Rohirrim,” skillfully blends 2D hand-drawn animation with Tolkien’s penchant for heroic fury and painful loss in an epic feature film releasing December 12th from Warner Bros. and New Line Cinema. A surprisingly brisk 2:14 runtime hits all the right notes (as does Stephen Gallagher’s gorgeous score) — where vibrant Japanese anime gives royal family drama, imminent heartbreak, and cruel warfare a rather supernatural ferocity. The result is a terrific film, hands down. Handling both fantasy and tragedy with all seriousness, this standalone Middle-earth story beckons us back as “the next big LOTR film.” Although the entire sketch of this story fits in about 2 pages of Appendix A, “The War of the Rohirrim” is a satisfying narrative piece that stands tall alongside Peter Jackson’s previous LOTR and Hobbit Trilogies, but does not outdo them.
A Fine Standalone Tale
A bit disconnected from previous stories concerning the War of the Ring, this film considers a more intimate drama. A mighty King loves his daughter to the point of being overprotective; yet no one dares cage her unbridled free spirit, never to be diminished. Echoes of Théoden and his niece Éowyn, to be sure. In fact, Miranda Otto returns to be the film’s narrator (an elegant and welcome touch). The voice actors are excellent all-around.
Helm Hammerhand (an imposing Brian Cox) will suffer no fools. His sons Haleth and Háma are always close to his side. His daughter, Héra (a stunning Gaia Wise), would rather be out feeding a shank of mutton to fledgling giant eagles. Wearing a formal dress to the royal council is NOT her bag. One cold evening Freca, a rich and powerful man (but one with Dunlendish blood), comes to Edoras. He brings an unwanted marriage proposal, desiring to wed Helm’s coltish daughter to his son Wulf. All hell breaks loose. Every good script needs an inciting incident, and boy, this one is a whopper.
After the Proposal
The tumult that follows is fully realized; as the filmmakers draw up spectacular scenes of battles both far afield and deep within the human heart. Soon bitter war and an even more biting winter rends asunder the lives of everyone in Rohan. All roads lead to the Hornburg (would have been cool to hear it called Súthburg, but what the heck); renamed “Helm’s Deep” in the near future. The night is dark and full of terrors, to borrow a phrase. But I shall spoil no more.
Thematic Essence of Tolkien
This is as much Helm’s film as it is Héra’s. He is the Dad who’s always there for his children and certainly for his people. His decisions are brash and often grim, yet his motives are precise. However often circumstances would strip Héra of her agency, she yet finds her passion and opportunity. She rises to the legendary namesake of “Shieldmaiden of Rohan” with needful determination. Tolkien excels at this kind of storytelling. His characters’ toughest edges are yet molded by compassion. The difficult choices they face truly resonate with the Professor’s sensibilities.
Fair credit to Oscar-winning producer Philippa Boyens for choosing to zero in on this particular tale in such a way that writers Jeffrey Addiss and Will Mathews (known for Netflix’s Emmy-winning “The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance”) and Phoebe Gittens & Arty Papageorgiou could so successfully play in the sandbox to flesh out such exigencies. Special gold star for the handling of Fréaláf, one of my favorite characters.
Heightened Skill of the Animators
The character drama compels here as much as in the live-action films. This is largely due to Kamiyama’s shrewd storytelling sense and how he stages large action scenes against emotional powerhouse moments. A word of praise for the animation team: how beautifully these artists stage the sweeping vistas of Middle-earth! How gorgeously this imagery harkens back to original WETA designs of architecture, clothing, weaponry, and cultural objects! Colors and backgrounds are especially rich, going a long way to help frame distinctly Rohirric themes of unrequited love and revenge-lust. Sound design and foley work is stellar!
Howard Shore’s leitmotifs play a key part in this story as with all LOTR/Hobbit films. Composer Stephen Gallagher worked previously as the Music Editor for “The Hobbit” — here he brings a magic toolbox of material that really shines. His score (playing during the very writing of this review) makes one long for mountains, pine trees, waterfalls and the vast grasslands of Rohan. The closing credits song “The Rider,” sung with astounding dexterity by Paris Paloma, is perhaps the most evocative thing I’ve heard in years. Big Florence & the Machine energy opening the ears and the heart to this new vision of Middle-earth.
Tolkien Anime Adaptations Came First
A point of historical note: the glowing success of “The War of the Rohirrim” — in fact its very existence — brings us full circle back to the 1970’s where the earliest adaptation of “The Hobbit” was likewise created by a pan-Pacific production team. Indeed 1977 was a mighty big year for fantasy and sci-fi, seeing the publication of “The Silmarillion” and the phenomenon of the first Star Wars; and yet also the Peabody Award-winning telecast of “The Hobbit,” on CBS.
Produced by New York-based Rankin/Bass and animated in Japan by Topcraft, “The Hobbit” has stood the test of time as an early anime milestone (and ultimately glorified by South Park ridicule). Animators from Topcraft would work for a fledgling production house called Studio Ghibli; a new operation on the scene that would make a legendary name for itself. Seeing at least one or two distinct references to Hayao Miyazaki’s “Princess Mononoke” (and a nice visual composition of Helm in battle clearly going back to Ralph Bakshi’s representation of Théoden from his 1978 LOTR films) truly warms the heart.
The Advantage of Animation
A lack of appetite for anime should not detract from enjoying “The War of the Rohirrim” on its merits. Roger Ebert famously championed the medium of animation — reminding us how it frees the filmmaker from the demands of realism, gravity, even cameras. Imagination can truly fly, unfettered by the physical world, able to convey the most artful approach. It has often been said animation provides a layer of abstraction one can never find in live-action. It offers the audience a broader point of meeting the tale head-on, allowing one to appreciate the hard-won craftsmanship on display.
“The War of the Rohirrim” should fuel fan conversation for years to come. A minority may wish the team had “animated on the 1’s” instead of “on the 2’s or on the 3’s” or some other technical gripe, but that is not truly the style of Japanese anime. It is not much of a complaint considering the overt beauty that Kamiyama-san and his team have achieved. The film succeeds comfortably within its own art style.
Film Rating
I rate this a solid 8.5 out of 10 with focused praise on use of color, framing of compositions, great pacing, clarity of character motivations, lovely music, and the overall serious handling of Tolkien’s tragic tale with emotional verisimilitude.
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our poetry feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. So come and join us by the hearth, and enjoy!
If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
The Steward and the White Lady
by: Cassie Hughes
She lay bereft of all she loved and wished her life was done, That King had never called her back from limbo’s darkened home, Within these hallowed healing halls her heart felt caged anew, What now for maid without a shield? No cause to cleave unto?
In waking dreams she wandered there a ghost in living form, Her hopes and dreams dispersed as dust, her mind encased in storm, ‘Twas thus he first did spy her there caught up in moonlights glow And from that moment lost his heart to Rohan’s greatest jewel.
Fair Eowyn he then pursued though she desired naught But finding honour within death, this goal, her only thought, With inner strength he persevered and piece by piece did steal Away despair and hopelessness, her zest for life reveal.
At last the scales fell from her eyes, she finally perceived, The wise and steadfast prince of men to whom her heart had cleaved, The Steward and the Lady found at last their just reward, A strong, enduring love in which to live in light restored.
~~ * ~~
I’ve included this following poem to commemorate Remembrance Day. It’s one I wrote as part of my Literature degree in memory of my Grandfather. Lest We Forget
Grandad Speaks
by: Kelvarhin
They called me Jack, Though my mates Called me Snowy.
A hazel-eyed beauty, From London’s east-end, Became my life’s love. Two adored daughters, Completed our home.
War intervened, To the R.A.F. I soared. Not to drop bombs, Or dogfight in the sky, Dinghy Drop rescues Were my choice to fly.
The fates made their call, Rescuers missing, Lost over North Sea. Three simple words, All that were shared.
Missing in action.
No body to mourn, No grave to cry on. A telegraphed epitaph, My Loves only memorial.
~~ * ~~
If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net. One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
Welcome to The Great Hall of Poets, our poetry feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. So come and join us by the hearth, and enjoy!
If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
“The Sea Calls us Home”
By: Caroline Flynn
The wind is cold: soon the last leaf shall fall And all shall be covered by winter’s pall. In the restless breeze I hear a call. The Sea calls us home.
Upon this Middle-earth we have endured storm and gale, But now our long years begin to fade and fail, Upon the grey ships we must set sail. For the Sea calls us home.
O land we have loved through the lengthening years, Enriched by our labor, watered by our tears, Why now are you grown so cold and drear? Why does the Sea call us home?
This sorrow of our hearts is not feigned For in this land we have lived and reigned And with our blood is this land stained. But the Sea calls us home.
The Sea! Whose waters contain the memory of old, The eternal Music it most closely holds Our griefs and triumphs its voice enfolds. Thus the Sea calls us home.
To the straight road of the West we now turn, To the undying West for which our hearts now yearn Where the Evening Star begins to burn. For the Sea calls us home.
~~ * ~~
Numenor’s Lament
By: L. May
Life’s many treasures
Drowned in sea spray.
Waves cover memories,
Flooding, razing,
All that was great.
Floating bodies swirl,
Like wave-kissed pebbles,
Tumbling and spinning.
Water foams over,
In unending motion,
Advancing and retreating,
With relentless ruin,
Till flotsam drifts,
Upon restless waves.
Memory fades,
Born out to sea,
Drawn down into
Ulmo’s cold, dark realm.
~~ * ~~
If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net. One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
Oaths hold an astonishing power in Tolkien’s Middle-earth. Here, TORn Discord member Narrative Epicure explores how Sauron and Elrond’s understanding of this fact drives each to behave very differently toward others.
~ Staffer Demosthenes
Concerning Oaths in Middle-earth
by TORn Discord member Narrative Epicure
In December 3018 of the Third Age, everybody’s lucky number was nine. After an involuntary white-water rafting trip down the Bruinen, Sauron’s Nazgûl returned to Mordor. These servants, so long bound to him by works he wrought in ages past, gathered once more in the dark shadow of Barad-dûr. In the Elven realm of Rivendell, Lord Elrond prepared a Fellowship whose journey would determine the fate of Middle-earth.
“The Company of the Ring shall be Nine;”1 he declared, “and the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil.”2
Contrasts between the Ringwraiths and the Fellowship are legion, but in their preparations, one particular distinction reveals the nature of the hands that send them: while Sauron insists on sending servants bound to him by rings of power, Elrond demands nothing of anyone but Frodo (to not cast away the ring or deliver it to an Enemy). To the fellowship, he says, “no oath or bond is laid upon you.”3
As they depart on their journey south, he demands no promise from the nine he sent.
This difference between Elrond and Sauron is illustrative of each lord’s perspective on oaths and—to a larger degree—of the way each lord interacts with and treats the people of Middle-earth.
Concerning Oaths
Oaths and promises are fascinating subjects that could fill volumes on their own. On a surface level, an oath is a set of words promising some conduct or restraint. Yet, the way we treat an oath transforms it from a set of words to a power. In our own world, this power is usually subtle, intangible, and typically confined to the effects on psyche, trust, or the occasional legal ramification. In large part, oaths have over us what power we give them. In Middle-earth, this intangible power becomes tangible. Tolkien writes of oaths not only as if they have power, but as if they behave.
Oaths are living things that bless those who honor them, and occasionally impose consequences on oathbreakers. Tolkien describes the Oath of Fëanor (an oath that drives much of the action and conflict of the First Age) as “ever at work,”4 and on other occasions he says it has “slept now for a time.”5
In The Lord of the Rings, we see the terrible result of going back on your word when the Men of Dunharrow break oaths to fight Sauron and Isildur curses them to “rest never until [their] oath is fulfilled.”6
Tolkien’s writing ascribes another unique trait to oaths: they bind people to each other. Tolkien’s Legendarium offers many examples of this: the Oath of Eorl bound Rohan and Gondor together, the Oath of Finrod bound him to aid the kin of Barahir (at the cost of his life), and the sons of Fëanor were “bound by the oath”7 they swore.
But the people of Middle-earth can be bound even without oaths. When Melkor darkened the two Trees of Valinor, the Valar determined that the light of the Silmarils could restore the trees if Fëanor allowed their use. Fëanor refused. The Silmarillion describes him as “fast bound” to the Silmarils. Long before his oath, the love of his crafts bound him.
It was this binding power that Sauron would seek to replicate. In the Second Age, he bent the power of oaths back on itself, twisting it into the shape of rings, “for his desire was to set a bond upon the Elves.”8
Bound by Oaths
In Season 1 of the Rings of Power, young Elrond describes his outlook on oaths. “To some, [oaths] may now hold little weight, but in my esteem, it is by such things our very souls are bound.”9
He sees oaths as Tolkien wrote of them, and he uses them to build a web of collective strength. Elrond gives oaths. He enters them freely as a show of loyalty to those he cares about. Some may argue he enters them too freely.
Yet, despite the impetuous manner in which he binds himself to others, he’s hesitant to let others make oaths to him. When the Fellowship departs, and he asks no oath or bond, he explains some of his reasoning (paraphrased to just dialogue):
Gimli: “Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.” Elrond: “Maybe, but let him not vow to walk in the dark who has not seen the nightfall.” Gimli: “Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart.” Elrond: “Or break it.”10
He’s cautious to hold others to promises made without all facts. We see this again in the mines when he stops Durin from sharing his true name—an act that, while not an overt oath, would have bound the two together. And while he freely binds himself, he’s cautious with whom he makes such promises. Note that in Season 2, when Galadriel asks, he immediately refuses to swear any promise “whose asking is born of that ring.”11
But seconds later, he swears exactly what she wishes, only this time to her. He will not suffer himself to be bound to or by her ring, but holds no qualms for his friend. And despite his fears that she is bound to Sauron through that ring, he demands no similar oath from her lips.
At his core, Elrond believes oaths are about people. He cares much more about binding himself to others than binding them to him. He cares deeply about them. When he stumbled into Durin’s Mithril mine in Season 1, he wasn’t looking for mithril itself like Durin suspected. He was looking for his friend. He worried about Durin’s secrets and went there to maintain trust between them.
After swearing an oath to Durin, he’s given a nugget of mithril, which he immediately offers to return. His king sought that ore, but to Elrond, this was always about his friend. Incidentally, this outlook works to his favor. Durin never would have given him the mithril if it were why he came lurking.
Bound in Darkness
If Elrond is the give, Sauron is the take. Elrond builds strength, Sauron builds power. To the dark lord, the purpose of oaths is to ensure those beneath him remain subservient. We see this in the very terminology he uses. He almost always eschews the word “oaths” in favor of “binding.” He doesn’t want to forge webs like Elrond; he wants to forge chains.
Sauron is cautious about oaths he swears. When faced with no alternative, he tries to manipulate them in his favor. “I swear to serve the lord of Mordor”12 is the juicy example that springs to mind. He’s there to bind others to him, not the other way around. Oaths don’t show loyalty or closeness, they keep others in line.
In the finale of Season 1, he asks Galadriel to bind herself to him. What he wants from Galadriel is a promise—an oath—so he can make her a queen, fair as the sea and the sun, stronger than the foundations of the earth. But notice again his subtlety. He offers her effectively nothing. “You bind me to light, and I bind you to power.”13
In exchange for her legitimizing his “healing” of Middle-earth, he binds her to power. But in Sauron’s estimation, he is that power. He binds her to him, and in exchange, she validates his rule. But as Gandalf famously warned Saruman, “he does not share power.”14
He’s promised her only chains.
Since he cannot elicit true loyalty, Sauron must demand it. He can deceive and win hearts, but he cannot keep them. It is this inability to earn true loyalty that—in part—drives Sauron’s need for the rings. Elrond cares for people while Sauron seeks only what he can use from them.
Each ring of power is a literal manifestation of that search for utility. If the people of Middle-earth will not swear to him, he will find some other way to bind them to him.
Frodo observed that “the Shadow . . . can only mock, it cannot make: not real new things of its own.”15
Unable to make bonds and elicit oaths, Sauron mocks, imitating the power of an oath’s bond with his rings. That involuntary bond shreds trust, but he doesn’t need trust when he has control. Dominate some creatures, bind others, make empty promises, and—when your army is threatening enough—maybe some people will swear with less coercion and deception.
And so, nine walkers set out from Rivendell, each a hero, while nine riders set out from Mordor, each a thrall. Sauron told us his plan from a prison cell in Númenor: “identify what it is that [a person] most fears . . . [and] give them a means of mastering it so you can master them.”16
Elrond’s line of thinking would likely be more along the lines of “identify what it is that a person most fears, and swear to protect them from it.”
With that contrast laid out, it’s clear in which fellowship you’d find better company.
About the author:Narrative Epicure is an aspiring loremaster and practicing attorney longing to read or write things that aren’t legal. When he’s not buried in Tolkien’s Legendarium, he enjoys books, board games, and other activities with his Fellowship, which includes his wife and three daughters.
If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net. One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
If you have read The Lord of the Rings, there is a good chance that you skipped over one or more of the 75 songs and poems in J.R.R. Tolkien’s fantasy epic. Yet long before he was the “father of modern fantasy”, Tolkien’s great ambition was to be a poet.
He wrote hundreds of poems throughout his life, running the gamut from playful limericks to lengthy verse epics in Old English alliterative meter (verse that focuses on alliteration, the repetition of consonant sounds in two or more words or syllables). But despite his prolific poetic output, Tolkien remains best-known for his prose. Published by Harper Collins, The Collected Poems of J.R.R. Tolkien – the first tome to bring together all of his poetry – will not alter its author’s reputation as a storyteller first and foremost, but it will offer readers illuminating new insights into this oft-neglected side of his personality.
This new book has been in the works since 2016, when Christopher Tolkien sent editors Wayne G. Hammond and Christina Scull several folders of his father’s unpublished poetry. Hammond and Scull are two of the world’s most respected Tolkien scholars, having written painstaking reference works such as the J.R.R. Tolkien Companion and Guide (2017) and The Lord of the Rings: A Reader’s Companion (2008). They have also edited previous works by Tolkien, including the short poetry collection The Adventures of Tom Bombadil (2014).
Between them, Hammond and Scull have precisely the obsessive eye for detail and encyclopaedic knowledge of Tolkien’s corpus required to pull off such an undertaking. And once you hold this deluxe, three-volume, 1,500-page tome in your hands, you will grasp just how monumental an undertaking it is.
The Collected Poems of J.R.R. Tolkien contains nearly 250 individual works spanning more than five decades, 70 of them previously unpublished.
Hammond and Scull do not present the poems as standalone texts. They meticulously document the manuscript history of each poem from initial fragments to final drafts, tracing their evolution over the course of years or even decades.
This is because Tolkien would frequently return to the same poem throughout his life, revising and reworking it over and over – much as he did with his literary mythology.
The Sea-Bell is a perfect example. In 1934, Tolkien published a poem in The Oxford Magazine entitled Looney. It describes a man’s voyage to an enchanted other-world and his desolation upon returning to ordinary life afterwards.
Almost 30 years later, Looney underwent major redrafting to become The Sea-Bell, which was published in The Adventures of Tom Bombadil in 1962. The poem’s basic narrative arc remained the same, but the imagery was darker, more evocative, more devastating. The protagonist is utterly cut off from his contemporaries, with no words to communicate an experience they cannot understand.
But The Sea-Bell is not merely a revision of its predecessor. Looney was conceived and published as an independent work. In The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, on the other hand, The Sea-Bell is framed as a text written by an unnamed hobbit within Middle-earth, which Tolkien had discovered and translated for modern readers. This conceit invites readers to put the poem in direct conversation with the themes of melancholy and sea-longing which run throughout The Lord of the Rings.
By charting how the poem and its context changed over time, Hammond and Scull show how its meaning changed too.
Many of us live with a nagging sense that industrialised modernity has cut us off from the cosmos, from nature and from our authentic selves. The Romantics and their inheritors believed that art could reconnect us to what is deepest and truest in ourselves and in the world around us – could re-enchant the world.
This is one way to read Tolkien’s entire literary project. He suggests as much in his famous essay On Fairy-Stories (1947).
Eminent Tolkien researcher Verlyn Flieger reads The Sea-Bell as a profound expression of disenchantment, a reflection perhaps of Tolkien’s service in the first world war. But the powers of re-enchantment are at work elsewhere in his work, in the elven-realm of Lothlórien for instance. This dialectic of disconnection and reconnection lies at the heart of Tolkien’s enduring appeal.
As The Collected Poems of J.R.R. Tolkien attests, that same dynamic is at play in his poetry as much as his prose. But be forewarned: this book is not for the faint of heart. Its massive scope, and the academic presentation of the material, are better suited to the Tolkien scholar than the casual reader – certainly not the one who leapfrogs the songs in The Lord of the Rings.
But if you, like me, feel a compulsion to own everything released under the professor’s name, that is hardly going to stop you.
If you have a Tolkien/Middle-earth inspired poem you’d like to share, then send it to poetry@theonering.net. One poem per person may be submitted each month. Please make sure to proofread your work before sending it in. TheOneRing.net is not responsible for poems posting with spelling or grammatical errors.
This week in Reflections from the Shire we have a guest post from Tolkien lover, and Tiktok and Threads regular, Lea/Silmarilleanne about The Shibboleth of Fëanor and it’s appearance in The Rings of Power episode four. Enjoy!
~ Staffer Kelvarhin
Reflections from the Shire – The Shibboleth of Fëanor
Guest post by: Lea/Silmarilleanne
Keen-eared Tolkien fans may have noticed an interesting linguistic quirk spoken by Adar at the end of episode four of The Rings of Power. He greets Galadriel with a familiar Quenyan phrase – one used by Frodo to greet Gildor Ingolrion in The Lord of the Rings: “elen síla lúmenn omentielvo”, to quote Frodo. But Adar’s is slightly different, raising some interesting possibilities about his original elven identity.
Firstly, there’s the fact that Adar is speaking Quenya at all. This suggests he is a Noldo of Valinor – just as Galadriel is; Quenya the language originated in Valinor and is the the language of the High Elves. It was dropped in favour of Sindarin shortly after the exiled Noldor arrived in Middle-earth, thanks to the ban placed upon it being spoken by the Sindar King, Elu Thingol, after he was informed of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, the victims of which were his own people, the Teleri. It was never spoken by any of the other elves of Middle-earth, becoming something of an archaic language of lore. Furthermore, Adar calls Galadriel “Altáriel”, the Quenyan form of the name Galadriel – an epessë (a kind of nickname) she was given in Valinor, and which was Sindarised to Galadriel in Middle-earth. This is all to say, were he anything other than a Noldo, it is extremely unlikely he would have spoken Quenya and known Galadriel’s Quenyan epessë.
The most intriguing part of all this though is instead of síla, Adar pronounces the word as thíla – or, more accurately þíla. This usage of the thorn in place of s suggests he is not only speaking Quenya, but a very specific dialect of Quenya – Fëanorian Quenya, known amongst many fans as ‘the Fëanorian lisp’ (indeed, those who spoke this way were dubbed ‘the Lispers’).
In The Shibboleth of Fëanor, published in The Peoples of Middle-earth, volume 12 of the History of Middle-earth, Tolkien at his philological best describes how sociopolitical matters affect language and vice versa. As the Shibboleth explains, the Noldor and the Vanyar, two of the three tribes of elves, once lived together in the city of Tirion in Valinor and shared a language, Quenya. The Vanyar relocated to the city of Valmar to be closer to the Valar, and as a result of this distancing, dialectical shifts occurred between the two peoples. The Vanyar retained the þ in their language, but amongst the Noldor there was a “conscious and deliberate change…based primarily on phonetic ‘taste’ and theory” to s.
The change was attacked and opposed by loremasters, who believed it would cause damage “in confusing stems and their derivatives that had been distinct in sound and sense”. The chief linguistic loremaster at this time was Fëanor, who as well as being a fastidious loremaster also had a very personal reason for objecting to the change. Fëanor’s mother, and first queen of the Noldor, was Míriel Þerinde. While the linguistic shift is said to have happened (or at least began) within her lifetime, Míriel herself adhered to the pronunciation þ, and “desired that all her kin should adhere to it also, at least in the pronunciation of her name”, therefore Þerindë as opposed to Serindë.
However, unprecedented amongst the elves of this time, Míriel died, and refused to be re-embodied. Embittered by this, her husband Finwë himself switched away from þ in favour of s, which had at this point become almost universal amongst the Noldor bar Míriel’s kin. Matters were worsened further when his second wife, Indis of the Vanyar, followed suit. As a Vanya, Indis had hitherto retained the þ in her speech, but she declared, “I have joined the people of the Noldor, and I will speak as they do”. Fëanor, hating Indis and seeing her as somewhat of a usurper in his mother’s rightful place, believed her switch to be a grave insult and belittlement of his mother, and came to view the rejection of Þ as a symbol of rejection of both his mother Míriel, and by extension himself, her son, as the chief of the Noldor next to Finwë.
Thus, he became yet more vehement in his objection of the shift, even while his behaviour turned those who had previously agreed with him to the opposing side:
“Had peace been maintained there can be no doubt that the advice of Fëanor, with which all the other loremasters privately or openly agreed, would have prevailed. But an opinion in which he was surely right was rejected because of the follies and evil deeds into which he was later led.”
Fëanor remained steadfast in his opposition, pointedly calling himself ‘Son of Þerinde’ and telling his sons, when they queried the difference in their speech from that of their kin, that they “speak as is right, and as King Finwë did before he was led astray”.
So even before the Rebellion of the Noldor and their exodus to Middle-earth, s in place of þ had become dominant, and this was further cemented in exile: “The s was certainly used in Beleriand by almost all the Noldor,” Tolkien writes, and this is followed by the note “It is not even certain that all Fëanor’s sons continued to use Þ after his death and the healing of the feud” between the Fëanorians and the family of Fingolfin, though it seems almost certain any elf who did retain the thorn would have been counted amongst the Fëanorian followers – thus is raised the question of Adar’s identity.
But Adar saying it to Galadriel adds yet another layer of significance. The Shibboleth of Fëanor further details how Finarfin, Galadriel’s father “loved the Vanyar (his mother’s people)” and that because of this love in his house, þ remained in standard use and he was moved neither one way nor the other by Fëanor’s shibboleth, acting purely as he wished. Galadriel therefore grew up in a household that retained the þ. However:
“opposition to Fëanor,” Tolkien writes, “soon became a dominant motive with Galadriel… so while she knew well the history of their tongue and all the reasons of the loremasters, she certainly used s in her own daily speech.”
In other words, she purposely transitioned to using s to spite Fëanor. Adar’s own usage of it then could also be retaliative or in a similar vein: he is aware of its import and meaning to Galadriel and could potentially be purposely using it as a means of aggravating her.
Certainly, the implications of him speaking Quenya – and specifically the Fëanorian dialect of Quenya – seems to contradict earlier indications in the show about him being one of the first orcs; the first orcs were made from elves taken during the days at Cuiviénen, long before the elves went to Valinor and Quenya the language even existed; at this time, they spoke only Primitive Quendian. It would also seem odd if Quenya is his mother tongue, why his name is Adar, the Sindarin word for father, as opposed to Atar as it is in Quenya. But how deep does the show want to delve? It could be a lot more straightforward – the show is going on the simplified premise of Quenya having been spoken by the elves since those early days, and the dialectical shift having happened since then simply being indicative of Adar’s extreme age. But if Adar is from amongst those first elves, as Galadriel claimed in the first series, that would put him of an age, older even, than Círdan, and yet Adar is very noticeably lacking the beard that is illustrative of Círdan’s long lifespan. On the other hand, if the show really is going this deep on the lore, exactly who is he? Theories of Adar being Maglor abound, since it would tick many of the boxes: Fëanorian speech, Noldo, dark hair, familiarity with the name Altáriel… But surely, even with a multitude of scars on his face, Galadriel would recognise her cousin? There is also, and perhaps most fundamentally, the issue of rights. While the Tolkien Estate has afforded Amazon some leniency and granted access to certain items outside the rights they own – most notably, the name “Annatar”, a word which does not appear in the Lord of the Rings and its appendices, which Amazon owns the rights to – it is another level entirely to grant them access to an entire character.
Regardless of whether Adar’s use of the “Fëanorian lisp” becomes significant and plot-relevant, or remains a little easter egg for keen-eared viewers, it has certainly conjured a lot of discussion, and a wonderful new level of interest in more casual fans, who have begun seeking out a once fairly obscure text like The Shibboleth of Fëanor.
About the author:Lea aka Silmarilleanne is a long-time lover of Tolkien’s works with a penchant for his languages and the House of Finwë. When her nose isn’t buried in a book or a PlayStation controller in her hands, she can most often be found talking Tolkien on Tiktok and Threads.
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