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 Beautiful Queen of Stars
by: Peter Kenny
Bright stars gleaming in the night, Diamonds in the sky, Gifts from the lady ever white; Radiating with light, Too beautiful for words, She is queen of the stars shining bright.
We call on her in dark times, Moments of despair; Praying to her for brighter times; Prayers she hears sent by us, Our songs raised in praise, She listens to our voices with love.
Night- time skies filled with gleaming stars, Blossoms in a field of dark, Dewdrop diamonds from a silver tree. Down here on earth in starry light, We now see in that sparkling sky, Visions of her shining face; The Beautiful Queen of Stars.
Lady dressed in shining white, Radiant snow white, Queen revered by one and all; We rejoice in the light, Of her gleaming stars, She is queen of the stars shining bright.
~~ * ~~
“Utulie’n Aure”
by: Caroline Flynn
“Tears unnumbered ye shall shed.” So was spoken the prophecy of dread. Upon the Anfauglith such a battle was fought That unnumbered tears and devastation were indeed wrought.
As the battle waxed thick and strong, And the hopeless end seemed not long There arose a cry, so strong and clear That, for a time, was dispersed all darkness and fear.
“Utulie’n Aure!” In a loud voice Fingon cried, And over the field the din of battle died. For lo! Turgon his brother was come from Gondolin, And glad was the meeting of the sons of Fingolfin.
Never so welcome was hope unlooked-for. “Utulie’n Aure!” Never was the cry heard stronger before! In the brothers’ hearts hope was glad and high – Alas! That it should so soon die!
For Turgon was driven back and forced to retreat, Though Huor urged him that he went not in total defeat: “While yet you stand, Morgoth shall not be our demise, And from you and me, a New Star shall arise.”
But did this comfort Turgon when he heard of Fingon’s fall? Or did he regret having retreated behind his walls? Hope one moment, then black despair – Why did all have to perish that was good and fair?
“Farewell my brother, so valiant, so brave,” Turgon murmured. “Alas, that you could not rest beside Father’s grave. But wherever you sleep, may you be in peace, From Mandos’ Halls may you find a speedy release.”
For a time he stood, sad and silent: But then a light came to his eyes, steady and defiant. Huor’s words echoed again in his mind, A hope and a promise they would bind.
“Utulie’n Aure!” He cried his brother’s cry, And he raised his fist against the sky. “But even if day shall fail and night fall, A New Star shall arise that will Evil forestall!”
~~ * ~~
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.
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.
