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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If you’d like to discuss “The Shibboleth of Fëanor” further, or just want to discuss all things Tolkien in a welcoming, troll-free environment check out TheOneRing.net’s Discord or message boards.
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.
“To Save a Friend”
by Caroline Flynn
Two red eyes, gleaming in the dark: Two eyes, filled with fiendish lust and desire. Not the light they hoped to pierce their prison stark! Not this end in torture and hellish fire.
Another gone, one more companion dead, In the dark dungeons of that accursed isle; Another werewolf cruelly fed While their master sits above with his triumphant smile.
At last, only two are left alive: Together, Beren and Felagund wait – Wait for the teeth and claws, sharper than knives. How can they escape their terrible fate?
Two red eyes appear in the night. To Felagund they rove, but on Beren they land. But lo! The evil dark is pierced by light As Finrod takes against evil a last stand.
Black blood mingling with the red, Black fur and golden hair, A terrible price Finrod pays in Beren’s stead, There in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, in evil’s lair.
The chains are rent, the dark wizardry spent, And league of love and trust unbroken Unto the Elven-king great strength lent So that in the darkness hope was awoken.
But no! Defeat seems all their prize! The Oath’s doom strikes the Oath-bound. And mortally wounded, Finrod slowly dies, His breath and Beren’s tears the only sounds.
Then Finrod speaks as he in torment lies, And he touches the ring upon Beren’s hand; The golden flowers, the serpents with emerald eyes Such a heavy weight, that small band!
“Namarie!” I go now to the halls beyond Valinor. Alas, that I could do no more upon this quest; But remember me, when I am no more. Namarie! I go now to my rest!”
Beren mourned, and called his name, Finrod Felagund – fair, beloved, and brave. But his last stand was not in vain: Blood for blood was rendered, a friend to save.
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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.
I learned something important from my daughter’s first-grade teacher that has stayed with me: “Don’t yuk someone else’s yum.” Our moms might have said it differently: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” It’s simple, but there’s wisdom in it that the online, and particularly social media, world of fandom could use. Just because you don’t love something doesn’t mean someone else can’t find joy in it. Even worse, your ‘yuk’ hot take may stifle content creators’ ability to bring out content you might end up loving.
(Let’s address the elephant in the room: Yes, I know this is my hot take—but hey, mine’s aimed at you, the fan, not the content creators.)
After what seems like a lifetime at TheOneRing.net (Has it really been 25 years?!), I’ve seen every possible reaction to new Tolkien content. From diehard fans reveling in every second of a new adaptation to those who can’t wait to point out what went “wrong.” It’s predictable and, frankly, exhausting. Every time something new comes out, it’s like clockwork: a flurry of love, a tidal wave of hate, and everyone shouting into the social void.
The truth is, not every story needs to be made for you, and that’s okay. I promise. 🤗
Critique? Sure, it has its place. But what’s happened is we’ve confused having an opinion with needing to broadcast it. Tolkien’s world is vast. It can hold different visions and interpretations from both filmmakers and fans. We don’t need to take sides in an imaginary battle over what’s “right.”
But why even bring this up? Because the casual social user, or even the casual internet participant, sees that ‘yuk’ always rises to the top. Algorithms are designed to push controversy and conflict into our feeds, knowing that our human condition tends to lean toward drama over harmony. Negative opinions and arguments get engagement, and platforms thrive on that. But here’s the problem: content creators use those negative metrics to gauge the success or failure of their work. And often, they make decisions—like canceling a show—based on the loudest, angriest voices, even when there’s a quiet following that genuinely enjoys it. Yes, these entities might be large corporations with teams of data scientists, but don’t assume that they are fully exploring the data to avoid simplistic conclusions.
Don’t yuk someone else’s yum – Annonymous
And there’s another side to this. Fans who do love something often hesitate to share their enthusiasm. Why? Because they don’t want to deal with the trolls. The loudest voices—the bullies of fandom—are quick to tear down anything that doesn’t meet their personal standards. And just like in politics, where the conversation is dominated by those with the loudest, harshest opinions, fandom is too often steered by negativity. The result? Studios and creators miss out on hearing from those who love the content, because those voices are drowned out.
Take the trailer for Star Wars: Skeleton Crew as an example. When it dropped, my fellow over-40 male demographic flooded my feed with waves of negativity. But here’s the thing: I’m secretly loving the idea of mixing Star Wars with The Goonies and Stranger Things. I want creators to take those kinds of risks with our beloved franchises. And if it turns out to be something I don’t enjoy, I’ll just quietly move on; no need to let folks know I wasn’t into it.
The beauty of all fictional universes and our beloved Middle-earth is that they can mean different things to different people. If someone’s finding joy in a version of the story that isn’t your cup of tea, do you really need to jump in and let them know? Let them have their moment. There’s a quiet strength in stepping back and allowing others to enjoy what they enjoy.
At the end of the day, fandom is supposed to bring people together, not force everyone into corners based on whether they loved or hated the latest installment. Maybe, just maybe, we don’t need to weigh in on every adaptation. If you’re not feeling it, maybe scroll past, or better yet, log off and reread The Silmarillion. The stories aren’t going anywhere. There will always be space for your favorites and your least favorites in Tolkien’s world.
The next time you’re tempted to post your hot take, think back to my daughter’s first-grade lesson. It’s okay to stay quiet and let someone else have their yum.
In fact, it might be the best thing you can do—not just for them, but for the creators who need to hear the whole story, and for fandoms to enjoy a new risk here and there.
So, remember: Too much yuk, and the content you love might never get made.
The views expressed in this article are those of just me, but maybe a few other TORn staffers agree. 🤷🏻♂️
P.S. If you’ve got thoughtful critiques or just want to discuss all things Tolkien in a more welcoming, troll-free zone, there are safer places for that. Check out TheOneRing.net’s Discord or message boards, where you can share your thoughts without drowning in negativity. Let’s keep the conversation lively, but respectful—Middle-earth deserves nothing less. Feel free to email me as well
P.P.S.Hey Amazon – I couldn’t end this article without sharing some of my yum. I am LOVING Season 2 of ‘Rings of Power!’ Don’t let anyone yuk my yum! 😋
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.
Last week Rings of Power returned to our tv screens, when the first three episodes were released on Thursday 29th of August. Once again it has attracted its share of responses from those who love the show and those who don’t. Perhaps the most surprising result of ROP’s return has been the reaction to one, quick, scene showing an Orc holding a baby.
While Tolkien never fully resolved the origin of the Orcs, owing to his own theological beliefs that nothing is entirely evil, he did provide ideas on their origins. Their creation story changes from Orcs being created from stone, and being soulless, to them being corrupted elves or men, containing souls. However, in every iteration he always speaks of them being “bred”.
The very first idea of the Orcs, as mentioned in The Book of Lost Tales, had them created by Melko,
“all that race were bred by Melko of the subterranean heats and slime.”
This text also speaks of members of the Noldoli (Noldor elves) being twisted by Melko and combined with the Orcs, until they believed themselves to be one kindred.
This idea was later expanded upon in Morgoth’s Ring, with the Orcs being corrupted Eldar, captured by Melkor after their first awakening. These Eldar were taken to Utumno and
“broken… and by slow arts of cruelty and wickedness were corrupted and enslaved. Thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orkor in envy and mockery of the Eldar”.
Similarly, Morgoth’s Ring also discusses the creation of the larger Uruk-hai, stating that the Men who were under Morgoths rule would be made to mate with Orcs to produce the larger more cunning Uruks. It also states that this was rediscovered by Saruman who inter-bred Orcs and Men, to create Men-orcs, who were large and cunning, and Orc-men, who were treacherous and vile. Which is quite different to how their creation was depicted in the Peter Jackson films.
It is quite horrifying to us to envisage such inter-breeding, but Tolkien did, repeatedly. The showing of an Orc baby is merely acknowledging Tolkien’s own words that Orcs breed, they mate and produce young.
There have been arguments online that this is trying to make us more sympathetic towards the Orcs, as the existence of Orc babies implies that Orcs have gentle feelings. Why? Because they breed? There are humans who have children who don’t have any gentle or “maternal” feelings towards them. Yet they raise these children, not well, but they do raise them. While not all children raised by parents like this will go on to emulate their parents behaviour, sadly, many of them will, which leads to this learned parenting behaviour becoming the norm. When the brutish nature of Orcs is considered, it is quite likely that their children are raised in a similar manner. Provide food, shelter, and clothing, and not much else. Those that survive would go on to continue their brutish and vile natures, which increases with each successive generation, until we arrive at the Orcs of the Third Age in Lord of the Rings.
The fact that Orcs produce young in no way implies that the Orcs are not horrific. None of their acts of atrocity are played down. All that it shows is this is how more Orcs are created, they breed. They don’t just spring fully formed out of a sac in the ground.
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