Robert Aramayo as Elrond, The Rings of Power, Amazon Prime
Examining the minutiae of Tolkien adaptations has long been a tradition at TheOneRing.net. Staff, message boarders and chatters on our site have regularly picked over scenes and images from the films and this tradition continues with The Rings of Power. Today, however, the discussions take place in multiple arenas all over the internet. Recently, on Twitter, MGCoco* shared an interesting theory about Elrond’s cloak.
Twitter post by MGCoco*. Used with permission.
Other Tolkien fans loved this theory, with some noting how the cloak is “way more worn than the rest of the clothes” he wears and speculating that we may learn more at a future date.
Others took this theory even further, speculating that Elros may have been buried in his cloak and how Elrond still wears his as a “silent vigil over his brother’s legacy”. They go on to raise an interesting point that the lore never touches on Elrond’s feelings over his twin having chosen mortality and there being no chance of them ever being reunited, not even in the Halls of Mandos.
Tweet reply to MGCoco*. Used with permission.
MGCoco* also noted how Elrond then goes on to watch over the remaining heirs of Elros in Middle-earth, helping to hide the line of Isildur. Other fans stated that:
“It paints a beautiful, if somewhat bittersweet, mental image. Really gives one a sense of the sheer depth of his character too.”
Claiomh Dubh via Twitter
Delving into a closer look of a characters costume, can lead to far more than just an appreciation of a piece of clothing.
Join us on our Discord channel to discuss this and other topics with fellow Tolkien fans.
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.
What is ‘The Song of the Roots of Hithaeglir’ and where does it fit into Tolkien works? Is Amazon’s The Rings Of Power making up new lore?
In this article, TORn Discord Moderator DrNosy examines the introduction of a new Elven Folklore – ‘The Song of the Roots of Hithaeglir’ – in Season One’s fifth episode as a plot device in The Rings Of Power.
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What is “The Song of the Roots of Hithaeglir”?
In the words of Elrond himself, ‘The Song of the Roots of Hithaeglir’ is “an obscure legend regarded by most to be apocryphal” [Ed note: emphasis added]. Elrond is underscoring the point that this legend is folklore.
The fantasy works of Tolkien are based in European folklore. Folklore is described as the beliefs, customs, and stories of a community, that might be passed within that community through the generations. Folklore often contains details specific to the beliefs of the community.
Now, this is what makes folklore interesting — their origins are often based in truth. Not literal truths but something akin to parables and fables that hint at a truth. After all, you may have heard it said, “the truth is [more frightening] than fiction”.
For example, in Western folklore, we are familiar with the concept of ‘werewolves’. This lore is entirely fictitious. Yet the lore itself arises from a truth, and has a purpose. That purpose was our ancestors’ way of warning us about metaphorical wolves in our midst, i.e., ‘serial killers’.
Werewolf legends derive from early Nordic folklore. Specifically, The Saga of the Volsungs tells of a tale of a father and son who discover wolf pelts with the power to turn people into wolves. Donning these pelts, the father and son duo embark on a rampage killing many. There is also have a fifteenth-century account of a vicious serial killer in Bedburg, Germany, whose actions were enshrined into local folklore as a man that turned into wolf-like creature at night before his killing spree.
Folklore and fables are essential to human survival. They function as a warning to the listener about the realities of the world without exposure to the brutality of its truths. They are a way to keep us safe.
Nobody goes off-trail and nobody walks alone
Returning to our `apocryphal` origin of mithril, ‘The Song of the Roots of Hithaeglir’ is not based in any Tolkien texts. Within The Rings of Power story, however, it functions as an Elven folklore founded on the nature of mithril and the truth of what else might lie beneath the Misty Mountains.
Note the words of Celeborn, one of the wisest of Tolkien’s Elves, who offers a pertinent reminder to not cheaply discount (their) lore.
‘Then I need say no more,’ said Celeborn. ‘But do not despise the lore that has come down from distant years; for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.’
Farewell to Lórien, The Fellowship of the Ring
Making mythril
`True creation requires sacrifice`
An Elven warrior (`with a heart as pure as Manwë`) and a Balrog (`all his hatred`) poured themselves into a tree bearing the light of Silmarils. One seeking to protect it, the other seeking to destroy it. Lighting (likely from Manwë) struck the tree which resulted in the creation of the tree’s roots… veins of mithril into the mountain.
This sacrifice made by both warrior and Balrog resulted in the subcreation of mithril — a thing of unimpeachable goodness yet also of unsurpassed peril.
`The Song of the Roots of Hithaeglir` is a cautionary fable for all the peoples of Middle-earth. While mithril will bring glory to Dwarves, salvation to the Elves, and riches to Men, it will also bring inevitable Doom upon those who seek it.
In this fashion, Gil-galad’s hope in mithril (as of Episode 5) also mirrors an aspect that Tolkien described in a letter to Milton Waldman:
[But] the problem: this frightful evil can and does arise from an apparently good root, the desire to benefit the world and others.
Letter #131, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Thus, even though mithril comes from a good root a frightful evil will arise from it.
About the author:
DrNosy is a scientist (physical science), scholar, and Tolkien enthusiast. Her primary interests lie in review and analysis of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. She is an active contributor and Moderator on TheOneRing.net Discord where she also hosts live open-forum panel discussions on The Rings of Power, The Silmarillion, and a variety of Tolkien-related topics. You can reach her on Twitter.
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 regular feature showcasing the talent of Middle-earth fans. Each month we will feature a small selection of the poems submitted, but we hope you will read all of the poems that we have received here in our Great Hall of Poets.
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.
Forth rode Earnil, last king of Gondor
Upon the Witch-King of Angmar to make war.
There ensued a terrible fight,
In which the Witch-King appeared and showed forth his might.
None could withstand the terror of his onslaught,
But Earnil, undeterred, would have stood and fought
Had not his horse fled, being crazed with fear
When the Witch-King with a horrible cry drew near.
The Witch-King laughed, at what he saw as fright,
But then his eyes were stung by a blinding light.
Turning his horse, away he sped,
Even as he mocked, into the darkness he fled.
He who had subjected lands and realms to his rule
And of Sauron’s servants was the most feared and cruel,
Could not withstand one who had beheld the Two Trees
And walked in lands beyond the Sundering Seas.
For Glorfindel had come up from Rivendell;
Bright was his sword, his eyes fey and fell.
He who of old had grappled with Shadow and Flame,
Unveiled his power, and with renewed might he came.
As Earnil rode back, chafing with anger and hate,
Glorfindel, gazing into the dusk, foresaw the Enemy’s fate,
Stretching far into the long years ahead.
Turning to the captain, he withheld him and said:
“Do not pursue him – far off yet is his doom!
And much more must be accomplished before the gathering of that gloom.
Not by the hand of man will he be slain:
Rather, the unlooked-for will arise and be his bane.”
And so it was, that the prophecy was spoken,
Though many years passed before it was awoken,
During the great battles fought for the One Ring,
And the Nazgul were sent forth, led by the Witch-King.
Despair and darkness he spread, wherever he went,
And the body of Theoden King apart he rent.
But then with an opponent he stood face to face,
Who was unafraid of the unseen eyes and deadly mace.
“Begone foul lord of carrion!” the clear voice spoke. “Let him lie in peace!”
“Stand not between me and my prey,” came the cold reply, “else you will go to where there is no release.”
There was sharp ring as was drawn a sword.
“No living man may hinder me!” laughed the lord.
Thus was spoken the prophecy of long ago,
The selfsame one spoken by his deadly foe.
Doubt entered the Nazgul’s mind as sun gleamed on golden hair,
And he was reminded of Glorfindel the fair.
“No man am I!” a woman’s voice returned,
And in Eowyn of Rohan’s eyes a fearless light burned.
The fell beast of the Witch-King reared up and rose,
Its rider furious that anyone should dare him oppose.
But Eowyn leapt aside, and clove off the beast’s head,
And from the ruin rose the dark and deadly Dread.
With a mighty stroke he broke her arm and clove her shield,
And it looked as though he would triumph upon Pelennor Field.
But in that hour Eowyn stood not alone,
And in the darkness another desperate courage shone.
From behind a sword pierced the sinews of the Witch-King’s knee,
And with a despairing cry, from his terror the world was set free.
Neither swordsman tall nor warrior strong
Had done this deed so worthy of song.
Only Merry the Hobbit, from the humble Shire
Out of love had helped the maiden in her need so dire.
And so it was: not by the hand of man did the Witch-King fall
But at the hand of a woman of the Golden Hall
And by a dagger taken from the tomb of a barrow-wight,
Wound with spells for his demise, in that long-ago fight.
~~ * ~~
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 scene above is not an original idea, but is imitative of an essay on fantasy writing that is almost fifty years old.
Lord Celebrimbor, The Rings of Power
In 1973, Ursula K. Le Guin published From Elfland to Poughkeepsie, in which she argued for the importance of style in writing, and especially in the writing of high fantasy. Elfland is the name she used—following Lord Dunsany—for what Tolkien called Faerie: it is Middle-earth, Prydain, and many other locales; as for Poughkeepsie, she offered a comparison to national parks. As these became more popular tourist venues, more people would travel to these parks, fully equipped with enough modern conveniences that they never really go anywhere. They can feel at home, “just as if they were back in Poughkeepsie.”
She lamented that at the time of her writing, too many new fantasy writers were building the equivalents of trailer parks with drive-in movies. “But the point about Elfland is that you are not at home there. It’s not Poughkeepsie. It’s different.” If anything, in this post-Dungeons-and-Dragons and post-video-game world, things have not improved.
She then offered a passage from a then-recent fantasy novel—the sort with twentieth-century people wearing 14th-century clothes and doing magic—and then, by only changing a few names and locations, showed that the same passage would be just as familiar in a modern political thriller, similar to our opening scene above.
“Now, I submit that something has gone wrong. The book from which I first quoted is not fantasy, for all its equipment of heroes and wizards. If it was fantasy, I couldn’t have pulled the dirty trick on it by changing four words. You can’t clip Pegasus’ wings that easily—not if he has wings.”
From Elfland to Poughkeepsie, Ursula K. Le Guin
Le Guin’s argument is that, in fantasy writing, style is not merely an ingredient of a book, something added on, but it is the book. “If you remove the style, all you have left is a synopsis of the plot.” In a cinematic drama1, of course, there is more than verbal style at play. The visual arts—sets, costumes, location photography, props, music, and so on—are very important stylistic components. Still, in another sense they are just illustrations that support, but cannot replace the style of the words. “Merely corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative,” as Pooh-bah said.
If the script is good, it should be just as good as a radio drama, perhaps with some well-written narration to replace those illustrations. I will refer to “the reader” in this article; this may be considered shorthand for “the reader or audience.”
Tolkien himself had much to say about the craft of transporting the reader to Faerie in his important essay On Fairy-stories. He proposed that any good story (of any genre) must be capable of creating actual belief in the world it creates, not merely suspension of disbelief:
What really happens is that the story-maker proves a successful “sub-creator.” He makes a Secondary World which your mind can enter. Inside it, what he relates is “true”: it accords with the laws of that world. You therefore believe it, while you are, as it were, inside. The moment disbelief arises, the spell is broken; the magic, or rather art, has failed. You are then out in the Primary World again, looking at the little abortive Secondary World from outside.
On Fairy-stories, J.R.R. Tolkien
He then discussed Fantasy, the creation of images of a world unlike ours, with things that cannot be found in our world at all. He gave an example, saying that the fantastic device of language lets us say things like, “the green sun,” but that:
To make a Secondary World inside which the green sun will be credible, commanding Secondary Belief, will probably require labour and thought, and will certainly demand a special skill, a kind of elvish craft.
On Fairy-stories, J.R.R. Tolkien
But what is the realm of Elfland, and why does it take such extraordinary artistry to bring a reader into that world? Tolkien tells us:
The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords. In that realm a man may, perhaps, count himself fortunate to have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness tie the tongue of a traveler who would report them.
On Fairy-stories, J.R.R. Tolkien
Tolkien portrayed this idea in his poem The Sea-bell and in his last book, Smith of Wootton Major; do read these. Le Guin said much the same thing but takes it a step further:
It is a different approach to reality, an alternative technique for apprehending and coping with existence. It is not antirational but pararational; not realistic, but surrealistic, superrealistic, a heightening of reality. In Freud’s terminology, it employs primary, not secondary process thinking. It employs archetypes, which, Jung warned us, are dangerous things. Dragons are more dangerous, and a good deal commoner, than bears. Fantasy is nearer to poetry, to mysticism, and to insanity than naturalistic fiction is. It is a real wilderness, and those who go there should not feel too safe. And their guides, the writers of fantasy, should take their responsibilities seriously.
From Elfland to Poughkeepsie, Ursula K. Le Guin
Thus, if we are to avoid leaving the reader in the Primary World, the language itself, that “fantastic device”, must act as the cicerone for this dream journey. Le Guin gave examples of appropriate prose: from Eddison‘s The Worm Ouroboros with its carefully-crafted Elizabethan prose; Kenneth Morris, with his less ornate but still mannered dialogue in Book of the Three Dragons; and Tolkien.
“Who can tell?” said Aragorn, “But we will put it to the test one day.” “May the day not be too long delayed,” said Boromir. “For though I do not ask for aid, we need it. It would comfort us to know that others fought also with all the means that they have.” “Then be comforted,” said Elrond.
The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien
It is important to notice that Tolkien does not use especially archaic speech here. Le Guin described the speech as, “a less extraordinary English; or rather an English extraordinary for its simple timelessness…it is the language of men of character.” She did not argue for archaic speech, but for speech that is appropriate to the subject matter, and indicative of the character of the speakers, who should not think like accountants and video-gamers.
Tolkien had much to say on this link between language, thought, and character. In a letter to Hugh Brogan (Letter #171, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien) he responded to that reader’s criticisms of the archaic narration in The Two Towers, which Brogan had described as “tushery”.
This letter is worth reading in its entirety, but Tolkien addressed “tushery” as the “bogus ‘medieval’ stuff with … expletives, such as tush, pish, zounds, marry, and the like,” and observes that real archaic English is more concise than “our slack and often frivolous idiom”.
In doing so, he examined the specific case of Théoden’s conversation with Gandalf (“Nay, Gandalf! You do not know your own skill in healing” et seq.).
First pointing out that it is actually “moderated or watered archaism” compared to a more authentically antique diction (“Nay, thou n’wost not thine own skill in healing,”2), he then added that even though much of the speech could be translated to a modern idiom, “Not at all my dear Gandalf…” the thought that ends it , “Thus shall I sleep better,” would not translate well to the modern idiom because a king who speaks in a modern idiom would simply not think in terms of sleeping quietly in his grave.
We see a similar disconnect in the Rings of Power speech with which we began.
Lords of Elfland do not think of expanding work-forces and project deadlines, and for them to speak of such matters is a disunity of language and character. The spell has broken, and the art has failed: we are back in Poughkeepsie. There are many examples of modernisms that have crept into the dialogue: hobbits who say, “Okay,” “It means, like, what we do,” and, “That’s not who we are.” Númenoreans who say, “Nah,” and, “Míriel has her up for tea?” Elves who say “conflicted”. Dwarves who say, “Yeah.” Even grade-school grammatical errors, “Your people have no king, for you are him,” (a sentence that was walking along just fine before it fell on its face at the last word).
There are almost too many examples to count, and they pop up at random in the midst of more timeless speech. Some are more jarring than others—especially the name-calling like “Elf-lover!”—but none of them belong in a tale of the fantastic, except perhaps as Orc-talk.
Overcompensating for modernism is, of course, an equally dangerous trap. Le Guin and Tolkien both objected to “tushery” and pseudo-archaic speech. Imitating the elevated register of dialogue from Tolkien’s writing is perilous.
Le Guin noted that young fantasy writers sense that their language must distance the tale from the ordinary, but don’t know how to do it, fumbling with “thee” and “thou” and overusing words like “mayhap”. To their credit, the writers of The Rings of Power, do not fall into this trap.
Instead, however, these Elves too frequently lapse into High Aphorism. “It is said the wine of victory is sweetest for those in whose bitter trials it has fermented.” You have to read that twice to figure out what it is saying. “Most wounds to our bodies heal of their own accord, so, it is their labor instead to render hidden truths as works of beauty. For beauty has great power to heal the soul.” All right, if you say so; but it doesn’t sound helpful for a broken leg. And of course:
Do you know why a ship floats and a stone cannot? Because the stone sees only downward. The darkness of the water is vast and irresistible. The ship feels the darkness as well, striving moment by moment to master her and pull her under. But the ship has a secret. For unlike the stone, her gaze is not downward but up. Fixed upon the light that guides her, whispering of grander things than darkness ever knew.
The Rings of Power, Amazon Studios
Young Galadriel with Finrod, The Rings of Power.
Not only is this pretentious and sententious (if lovely), but it forgets that the Noldor know more about the natural world, about the forces of gravity and buoyancy and density and displacement, than we do. Their “magic” comes from this deeper understanding. Instead of knowledge (which is what the word Noldor means!) we get fortune-cookie philosophy that sounds like we just need better-trained stones.
Compare:
‘Are these magic cloaks?’ asked Pippin, looking at them with wonder.
‘I do not know what you mean by that,’ answered the leader of the Elves. ‘They are fair garments, and the web is good, for it was made in this land. They are Elvish robes certainly, if that is what you mean. Leaf and branch, water and stone: they have the hue and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lórien that we love; for we put the thought of all that we love into all that we make. Yet they are garments, not armour, and they will not turn shaft or blade.’
The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien
There is a fine line between elegant speech and pretentiousness. The Rings of Power stumbles across that line too often; and perhaps without knowing exactly why, we are jerked back to the Primary World, because we know, somehow, that Elves don’t really talk like that.
Such considerations, of course, apply to any genre, such as real-world historical stories—at least, those taking place in a setting in which fairly modern English is spoken.
If I were writing a novel or screenplay taking place at, say, a New England boys’ prep school in 1905, I would not only have to take into account things like clothing, music, technology, or the rules for football, but I would have to give the boys speech appropriate to the time, with usages like “kick” for “complain”, “bully” for approval, or, “You make me tired!” for disapproval. And I would also have to assiduously avoid letting the boys say anachronistic things like, “epic”, “iconic”, “I’m still processing this”, “cool”, or… “That’s not who we are.”
If I were particularly careful, I would research then-new usages like, “Okay,” “Yeah,” or “Wow,” before putting them into the mouths of my characters.
It takes real work to get such things right. Without that work, even a non-specialist reader might sense that something is off-pitch, without knowing why, and will not believe in the story.
But such a story is not required to transport us to Elfland; only to (historical) Poughkeepsie. Elfland is a far more perilous realm, with deeper delights and dangers for both the reader and writer. Surely, then, a well-paid script editor can be employed to apply at least as meticulous a reading to the dialogue of a drama taking place in such a well-known and well-loved corner of Elfland as Middle-earth?
FOOTNOTES
[1]: It is not at all clear that there is any longer a useful distinction between “movies” and “television” and “streaming” in such discussions.
[2]: Incidentally, this is very similar to the writing of early fantasist William Morris.
Editor’s note:
In the above essay, Staffer Ostadan references a number of key early fantasists whose works pre-date and influenced Tolkien. Some of these works now exist freely in the Public Domain. Interested readers who might care to explore these works further can find and enjoy them as free downloads on Project Gutenburg.
Kenneth Morris’s Book of the Three Dragons was published in 1930 and is not yet available in the Public Domain. Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain series was published between 1964 and 1968. Ursula K. Le Guin’s essay From Elfland to Poughkeepsie seems to be available through Amazon in limited quantities, but it is very expensive.
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.
Ringquisition — our little segment that takes a slice of The Rings of Power and puts it under the microscope — returns. One this occasion yours truly (Staffer Demosthenes) and TORn Discord Moderator DrNosy turn the lens on the goings-on of the Noldor in the opening two episodes of The Rings of Power.
Editor’s note: this is an edited summary of a live discussion hosted last weekend on our Discord.
Is there truly no evil in the beginning?
DrNosy muses…
Let’s consider Galadriel’s statement that opens the series and its context.
`Nothing is evil in the beginning. And there was time when the world was so young there had not yet been a sunrise. But even then there was light.`
Galadriel, The Rings of Power: S1.E1
A few key observations upon this theme:
A young Galadriel sets sail to an origami Swan Boat in Valinor. This opening scene foreshadows the journey of the Elves from Aman (Valinor) to Middle-earth in the Swan Boats of the Teleri, which were subsequently destroyed.
The Burning of the Ships by Ted Nasmith.
Even in paradise (Valinor), there is discord amongst the children (the innocent) — is there truly no evil in the beginning? This concept is an undercurrent in Tolkienian writings. Arda had been marred by evil (by the actions of Melkor, also named Morgoth (‘Black Foe of the World’) after Manwë cursed him) even before the awakening of the Children of Illuvatar.
The strife among the Elven children is a reminder that ‘evil’ is an inherent aspect of the Children. Therefore, Illuvatar’s decree of the fate of Men and Elves (the acceptance of death and facing the judgment of Mandos) is a personal and spiritual decision made by nearly every character in Arda. (Of the Beginning of Days, The Silmarillion)
“Don’t you dare sink my battleship.”
Another place this appears is in her dialogue with Elrond:
And in the West, do you think my fate would be better? Where song would mock the cries of battle in my ears? You say I have won victory over all the horrors of Middle-earth. Yet you would leave them alive in me? To take with me? Undying, unchanging, unbreaking, into the land of winterless spring?
Galadriel, The Rings of Power: S1.E1
This dialogue implies that if Galadriel returns to the Far West, the evil within her will live on forever. Yet I feel this dialogue is a slight oversimplification in light of Tolkien’s texts. Specifically:
Death was a concept that existed from before the arrival of the Children of Illuvatar. The Elves are immortal, but this does not mean they are eternal beings (`Of the Beginning of Days`,The Silmarillion).
Fading, for the Elves, is a process that occurs slowly in Aman, and rapidly in Middle-earth (‘Difficulties in Chronology’,The Nature of Middle-earth). The purpose of the Elven rings (`artificer`) was to slow the effects of fading on Middle-earth.
Galadriel, as a bearer of such a ring, is protector of Lothlórien and her continued presence on Middle-earth also meant her inability to accept death and accumulate power to help resist the fading.
With this perspective, it is interesting to read these words from The Fellowship of the Ring:‘I pass the test,’ she said. ‘I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.’ (The Mirror of Galadriel’, The Lord of the Rings).
Why does Finrod make a vow to pursue Sauron?
Demosthenes explores…
In The Silmarillion, Finrod does make an oath — and remember that oaths are not lightly sworn in the “Tolkienverse”! — but it’s an oath to Barahir. Barahir, of course, saves him from an evil fate during The Battle of Sudden Flame.
Thus Felagund escaped, and returned to his deep fortress of Nargothrond; but he swore an oath of abiding friendship and aid in every need to Barahir and all his kin, and in token of his vow he gave to Barahir his ring. Barahir was now by right lord of the house of Bëor, and he returned to Dorthonion; but most of his people fled from their homes and took refuge in the fastness of Hithlum.
Of the Ruin of Beleriand and the Fall of Fingolfin, The Silmarillion
In the Episode 1 prologue, Galadriel’s voice-over tells us that “My brother vowed to seek [Sauron] out and destroy him.” The conflation of dialogue and visuals suggests that’s what we’re seeing in this particular flashback. That — despite superficial appearances — it’s not the Oath of Feanor made in Tirion (as Finrod takes no part in that). Instead, it’s something else; somewhere else.
What might fit is a rough adaptation of Finrod making good on his promise to Barahir. Yet, frankly, this is still not a vow to pursue Sauron. Not even close!
Felagund seeing that he was forsaken took from his head the silver crown of Nargothrond and cast it at his feet, saying: ‘Your oaths of faith to me you may break, but I must hold my bond. Yet if there be any on whom the shadow of out curse has not yet fallen, I should find at least a few to follow me, and should not go hence as a beggar that is thrust from the gates.’ There were ten that stood by him; and the chief of them, who was named Edrahil, stooping lifted the crown and asked that it be given to a steward until Felagund’s return. ‘for you remain my king, and theirs,’ he said, ‘whatever betide.’
Of Beren and Luthien, The Silmarillion
The other point of contention around this whole vows affair, I think, is the choice of the showrunners for Galadriel to take it up. I would ask: is our book-driven understanding that she is the sort of person to take oaths? I think that this suggests no:
Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand that day tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled in her heart…
Of the Flight of the Noldor, The Silmarillion
Is Galadriel deceiving us by saying it’s a vow? Is she deceiving herself? Is she reliable on this point? I think that Halbrand says something very interesting — and, potentially, very insightful, on the matter:
If you want to murder orcs to settle a score, that’s your affair. But don’t dress it up as heroism.
Halbrand, The Rings of Power: S1.E2.
A simple vendetta isn’t an oath in Middle-earth.
Why did the showrunners make Galadriel Commander of the Northern Armies?
Demosthenes observes…
There’s an interesting section of the History of Galadriel and Celeborn that outlines one scenario for Galadriel’s story. Simply titled “Concerning Galadriel and Celeborn”, it describes how they “did not go West at the Downfall of Melkor, but crossed Ered Lindon… into Eriador … and for a while dwelt in the country about Lake Nenuial (Evendim, north of the Shire)”.
Galadriel as Commander of the Northern Armies, might be an instance of the showrunners cribbing from that concept. She doesn’t merely lead the army (comprised, seemingly, of nine fellow-Noldor). Instead, she serves as a protector for that entire northern area of Eriador. Of course, it also serves as natural way to push her north into Forodwaith on the great Sauron-hunt. It’s her patch; she’s taking care of it.
It also provides an opportunity to evoke a short, but gripping, scene from The Silmarillion (I ask that readers excuse my rather inferior screencap).
Into a blizzard while crossing the Forodwaith. Rings of Power Episode 1.
We’re crossing the grinding ice. In miniature. I think that’s pretty neat. (Aside: Nasmith is underappreciated as a Tolkien artist.)
Fingolfin leads the Host across the Helcaraxe by Ted Nasmith.
The crossing of the Grinding Ice by the Noldor was a rough trip! But The Silmarillion also dispenses with this arduous journey in little more than a paragraph.
The fire of their hearts was young, and led by Fingolfin and his sons, and by Finrod and Galadriel, they dared to pass into the bitterest North; and finding no other way they endured at last the terror of the Helcaraxë and the cruel hills of ice. Few of the deeds of the Noldor thereafter surpassed that desperate crossing in hardihood or woe. There Elenwë the wife of Turgon was lost, and many others perished also…
Of the Flight of the Noldor, The Silmarillion
Galadriel’s journey’s end-point in The Rings of Power is undoubtedly less hospitable than that of the crossing of the Grinding Ice. But at least she has a map to point the way this time!
Why it’s necessary to use a dagger to point at the map I’ll never understand.
And it’s bloody cold! Why? Utumno’s ruins are basically here (probably under the ice-bay of Forochel though there is plenty of debate on that matter) and they continue to exert a localised chilling effect on the climate.
Finally, that mountainous location from the trailer — it’s not Thangorodrim after all. It’s just an evil Disney castle. Bit of a disappointment — who wouldn’t have wanted to see a visualisation of The War of Wrath?
Not!Thangorodrim. We are all sad.
What did the elves (other than Galadriel) think had actually happened to Sauron?
Demosthenes ponders the matter…
This is a key point, since the conflict about the fate of Sauron drives the story.
Galadriel believes he’s alive, out there and doing nefarious things. She states in Episode 1: “Evil does not sleep, Elrond. It waits.” That’s a definite crib from The New Shadow, by the way.
‘Deep indeed run the roots of Evil,’ said Borlas, ‘and the black sap is strong in them. . That tree will never be slain. Let men hew it as often as they may, it will thrust up shoots again as soon as they turn aside…’
The New Shadow, The History of Middle-earth
In fact, the attitude of Borlas is more or less Galadriel’s! That is, unceasing vigilance is required.
On the other hand, Elrond’s opinion is much more lackadaisical in The Rings of Power. He states that “The evil is gone”. This continues to puzzle me on a couple of counts.
Does he mean he believes Sauron is dead? That’s possible in the sense that a Maia can be completely and irrevocably severed from any physical form and unable to assume a bodily shape any longer. We see this both with Sauron and Saruman at the conclusion of The Lord of the Rings.
To the dismay of those that stood by, about the body of Saruman a grey mist gathered, and rising slowly to a great height like smoke from a fire, as a pale shrouded figure it loomed over the Hill. For a moment it wavered, looking to the West; but out of the West came a cold wind, and it bent away, and with a sigh dissolved into nothing.
The Scouring of the Shire, The Lord of the Rings
It seems likely that this was the fate of the Balrogs that Glorfindel and Ecthelion slew at the Fall of Gondolin.
Returning to The Rings of Power, if that had happened to Sauron you would think that such an event would be both marked and known? Or could it just be lost in the general chaos of the War of Wrath? I guess at least one Balrog escaped, so… perhaps.
Once the mark on the anvil at the Evil Disney Castle proves Sauron escaped and still exists in this, the Second Age, they (Elrond and Gil-galad) ought to be rethinking their assumptions. Elrond kinda pushes it with Gil-galad: “Then the shadow she sought… You believe it does exist?” But he also seems unwilling to be truly forceful about it!
What are the Elves up to?
DrNosy analyses…
Elrond: `Galadriel was so certain her search should continue.`
Gil-galad: `We foresaw that if it had, she might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.`
Elrond: `Then the shadow she sought, you believe it does exist.`
Gil-galad: `Set your mind at peace about it. What you did was right. For Galadriel and for Middle-earth.`
Elrond: `It is hard to see what is right. When friendship and duty are mingled.`
Gil-galad: `Such is the burden of those who lead and those who would seek to. Galadriel sails to the sunset. You and I must look to the new sunrise. To that end, are you acquainted with the work of Lord Celebrimbor?`
Elrond: `The greatest of the Elven-smiths, of course. I’ve admired his artistry since I was a child. Why do you ask?`
Gil-galad: `He is about to embark on a new project. One of singular importance. And we’ve decided that you will be working with him. But I’ll allow you to explain the details, Lord Celebrimbor.`
Lord Celebrimbor appears from out of the bushes to surprise Elrond in Lindon.
Reading into Gil-galad’s use of “we”, it appears that political decisions in Lindon often involves Gil-galad and a council of other Elven Lords of the realms. We are introduced to Lord Celebrimbor of Eregion. We are yet to be introduced to the other Elven Lords, most notably Círdan of the Grey Havens, Celeborn of Lothlórien (lore: Amdir/Amroth for Lorien), and Elvenking Thranduil of Mirkwood (lore: Oropher as King of the Woodland Realm).
Gil-galad is likely using “we” as a royal we’ but it doesn’t negate the point of an Elven council.
Gil-galad and the Council had determined that Galadriel’s concerns were accurate. Elrond is obviously unaware of the Council’s plans. It could be that the Council has determined that the solution isn’t pursuing an invisible enemy to banish evil.
Instead, it might involve the work of `artificers`, a concept that Arondir explains.
`Most wounds to our bodies heal of their own accord, so, it is their labor instead to render hidden truths as works of beauty. For beauty has great power to heal the soul.`
Arondir, The Rings of Power: S1.E1
Tolkien mentions the term ‘artificer’ in a letter to Milton Waldman.
But the chief artificer of the Elves (Fëanor) had imprisoned the Light of Valinor in the three supreme jewels, the Silmarilli, before the Trees were sullied or slain.
Letter #131, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien
Considering this show is about the Second Age, Celebrimbor, the greatest artificer of that Age, will play a significant role in the creation of the titular Rings of Power. It seems, therefore, that the tactic of pursuing war and battle with the enemy isn’t one that’s viable. Especially since Galadriel has now returned empty-handed from the last known stronghold of Sauron.
Actually called Ost-in-Edhil? Rights issues may get in the way.
Consequently, the Elves are more interested in returning to their old ways of smithing and fashioning objects that create great beauty and help slow-down the effects of death and fading on Middle-earth itself. While the pursuit and creation of powerful objects imbue deathlessness into the world around them, it is simply that much evil can also result from things that have a `good root` (Letter #131).
We shall see what is ahead in future episodes.
Our chat participants
DrNosy is a scientist (physical science), scholar, and Tolkien enthusiast. Her primary interests lie in review and analysis of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. She is an active contributor and Moderator on TheOneRing.net Discord where she also hosts live open-forum panel discussions on The Rings of Power, The Silmarillion, and a variety of Tolkien-related topics. You can reach her on Twitter.
Staffer Demosthenes has been involved with TheOneRing.net since 2001, serving first as an Associate News Editor, then as Chief News Editor during the making of the Hobbit films. Now he focuses on features and analysis. The opinions in this article are his own and do not necessarily represent those of TheOneRing.net and other staff.
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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.
