The Catholic influence in JRR Tolkien’s mythology
The Catholic influence in JRR Tolkien’s mythology
The heart of man is not compound of lies,
but draws some wisdom from the only Wise,
and still recalls him. Though now long estranged,
man is not wholly lost nor wholly changed.1
This quotation from Tolkien’s poem “Mythopoeia” elegantly sums up his understanding of man, the myths he composes, and their relation to God, the “only Wise.” J.R.R. Tolkien is perhaps the most widely recognized fantasy author of the twentieth century, yet his Catholic faith, although it is one of the most influential element in his work, is not nearly so commonly regarded and is often dismissed. To most readers, a correlation among religion, reality, and myth seems well nigh impossible, if not an outright contradiction. Tolkien, however, thought otherwise. For him, myth pointed towards truth, and for him, that truth was Catholicism.2
Unlike most Catholic moderns, “for Tolkien, Catholicism was not an opinion to which one subscribed but a reality to which one submitted. Quite simply . . . Tolkien remained a Catholic for the simple if disarming reason that he believed Catholicism was true.”3
His fervent belief in the truth of Christianity combined with his remarkable integration of mythology and truth produced the books that are now beloved by so many readers. By employing his philosophy of myth and subcreation, Tolkien composed works imbued with Catholic themes, which, though never explicitly revealed, are implicit evidence of their author’s devout Catholicism, and are subtle, yet masterful testimonies to the universality of the religion’s fundamental truths.
Myth and Truth
Before delving into the rich themes and significance of Tolkien’s works, it is absolutely imperative to understand the philosophy of myth that motivates his artistry. Contrary to popular understanding of the word, Tolkien firmly believed that myth can and ought to reveal truth. When his friend C.S. Lewis argued that a “true myth” was an impossibility, Tolkien countered:
You call a tree a tree . . . and you think nothing more of the word. But it was not a ‘tree’ until someone gave it that name. . . . By so naming things and describing them you are only inventing your own terms about them. And just as speech is invention about objects and ideas, so myth is invention about truth.4
As Tolkien argues, myth relates to truth as words relate to objects and ideas. Myths do not detract from, but instead point toward the ultimate truth. A common understanding of the relation of myth to truth is that all good myths ought to be allegories of the truth. On the contrary, Tolkien stated on several occasions that he disliked “allegory—the conscious and intentional allegory.”5 Instead, Tolkien argued that allegory is not to be confused with applicability, and that the distinction between them is that “one resides in the freedom of the reader, and the other in the purposed domination of the author.”6
Still, Tolkien did recognize that if a story is consistent with the principles of truth, it will necessarily seem allegorically consistent with real human experience.7
Tolkien believed that the composition of myth is a subcreative act and one of the highest ways in which man can imitate his Creator. Joseph Pearce eloquently summarizes Tolkien’s notion of subcreation:
“Since we are made in the image of God and since we know that God is the Creator, it follows that our creativity is the expression of the imageness of God in us. As such, all myths, as the product of human creativity, contain splintered fragments of the one true light that comes from God. Far from being lies they are a means of gaining an inkling of the deep truths of metaphysical reality. God is the Creator, the only being able to make things from nothing, whereas we are sub-creators, beings made in God’s creative image who are able to partake of his creative gift by making new things from other things that already exist.8
Thus, as Pearce states, the creativity of man mirrors the creative action of God. We can create from those things that God has given us, all of which are true and good, and the result will be an “inkling of the truth.” In one of Tolkien’s shorter stories, a man named Niggle personifies subcreation by painting a wonderful tree, painstakingly rendering the veins of every leaf, in an attempt to capture on canvas an image of true reality. He was never able to complete his work, but near the end of the tale, Niggle encounters the fulfillment of his labors as a live, flourishing tree:
Before him stood the Tree, his Tree, finished. If you could say that of a Tree that was alive, its leaves opening, its branches growing and benign in the wind that Niggle had so often felt or guessed, and had so often failed to catch. . . . All the leaves he had ever labored at were there, as he had imagined them rather than as he had made them; and there were
others that had only budded in his mind, and many that might have budded, if only he had had time.9
Because of his attempt to portray the truth, Niggle was eventually rewarded with the actualization and fulfillment of that truth.
Because myth gives one an insight into the Truth, it cannot be called escapist in the usual sense. As most commonly used, “escapism” refers to the action of “escaping” from reality. On the other hand, far from being an escape from reality, Tolkien’s myths are escapes into reality.10 Because of this, many readers of Tolkien’s mythology can easily empathize with Fr. James Schall’s comment: “I have always found in reading Tolkien a certain doom or dread strangely combined with a certain joy and exhilaration precisely because he was talking about something very real, about the way this, yes, fantastic world really is.”11
This convergence of fantasy and reality is noted in a discussion between two of Tolkien’s characters:
“Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in daylight?” “A man may do both,” said Aragorn. “For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!”12
Aragorn’s response shows that that reality and legend encounter each other in the realm of truth; the world that we see around us and the myths we compose are both directed in some way towards the true reality. Pearce explains Tolkien’s view of the matter thus:
True reality, the fullness of reality, was to be found beyond the physical and the metaphysical, beyond the natural in the supernatural. . . . Since Truth, properly understood, was Perfect, it was to perfection that our quest for reality, or realism, should be directed. The imperfections of life, the ambiguities and ambivalences of everyday existence, though real in a limited sense, only detract from the greater reality, blurring the vision.
In a sense, one could say that in Tolkien’s world we see things as they really are, stripped of their facades. Especially in The Lord of the Rings, the presence of the supernatural is overwhelmingly evident, and although it is never explicitly mentioned, seems even more obvious than in our own worldly experience. By reading works like Tolkien’s, one is given a clearer view of reality’s spiritual dimension, of the raging battle between light and darkness and the all-pervading presence of a Supreme Being Who orders all things to the Good.
Tolkien himself was deeply aware of the omnipresence of God, and believed that God Himself was the Author of the greatest myth ever written, the only true myth. While men subcreate with
their pens and other artistic instruments, “God tells his story with history.”14 As Pearce explains:
“In essence, Tolkien believed that Christianity is the “true myth,” the myth that really happened. It is the archetypal myth that makes sense of all the others. It is the Myth to which all other myths are in some way a reflection, a myth that works in the same way as all the others except that it exists in the realm of fact as well as in the realm of truth.15
Through the Incarnation of Christ, God revealed Himself to man using created matter and the facts of history, which all contain some aspect of truth because of their contact with God.
Following this most central event of human history, subcreation can only reflect the truth of Christianity—that God became incarnate in flesh, in time, and in human history. For what else is subcreation, but an attempt to incarnate truth in art? In his essay “On Fairy-Stories,” Tolkien affirmed, “It has long been my feeling (a joyous feeling) that God redeemed the corrupt making-creatures [subcreators], men, in a way fitting in this aspect, as to others, of their strange nature. The Gospels contain a fairy-story, or a story of the larger kind which embraces all the essence of fairy-stories.”16
Since Tolkien believed that Christianity is the greatest fairy-story of all, reflected by all stories of the same genre, it is futile to deny the essential Christianity of Tolkien’s subcreated mythology.
The evidence of Catholic Christianity in Tolkien’s work is overwhelming; the words of critics and Tolkien himself attest to the centrality of his Faith in his life and work. Pearce recognized the profound Catholic influence in Tolkien’s writings when he noted: “This Catholic theology, explicitly present in The Silmarillion and implicitly present in The Lord of the Rings, is omnipresent in both, breathing life into the tales as invisibly but as surely as oxygen. Whether Tolkien was consciously aware of this is another matter, but subconsciously he was so saturated with the Christian concept of reality that it permeates his myth profoundly.”17
In the end, Tolkien was aware of the Christianity that pervades his tales and affirmed its place as the animating force of his mythology:
“The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision. That is why I have not put in, or have cut out, practically all references to anything like ‘religion’, to cults or practices, in the imaginary world. For the religious element is absorbed into the story and the symbolism.18
This Catholic influence is most evident in the parallels between Tolkien’s mythology and Christian theology as revealed in the Scriptures and Catholic Tradition. Nevertheless, because these parallels are often implicit in order to prevent “intentional allegory,” fans and critics often misinterpret the religious symbolism. Tolkien feared this, comments Bradley J. Birzer,
and “rightly, that many readers would interpret the moral and spiritual elements of his mythology as pagan, or worse, as the heralds of a new religion.”19
God, Gods and Angels
Thus, a specific treatment of several of these Christian elements is necessary in order to demonstrate that Catholicism is indeed present throughout Tolkien’s works.
Some have argued that the first discrepancy with Christianity in Tolkien’s myth is the pantheism of middle-earth, failing to recognize that the Valar who are called “gods” are not really gods as one commonly conceives of them, since the only omnipotent Supreme Being in Tolkien’s mythology is Eru, The One.20 In fact, argues Tolkien, “There are no ‘Gods’, properly so-called, in the mythological background in my stories. Their place is taken by the persons referred to as the Valar (or Powers): angelic created beings appointed to government of the world.”21 Thus, while Eru corresponds to the Judeo-Christian God, the Valar correspond most closely to those created beings known as angels, since they were created as “the offspring of his [Eru’s] thought, and they were with him before aught else was made.”22
So too in the Christian Tradition, “before aught else was made” God created the angels. Tolkien describes the Valar as angelic beings whose authority is delegated by The One, making them “beings of the same order of beauty, power, and majesty as the ‘gods’ of higher mythology, which can yet be accepted . . . by a mind that believes in the Blessed Trinity.”23
Therefore, Tolkien’s mythology is not only monotheistic, but also angelic, inhabited by beings who closely parallel Christian angels.
Although never mentioned in his primary works, Tolkien once wrote about the possibility of an Incarnation of Eru, though he never incorporated it into The Silmarillion because he felt that such an obvious reference would seem too allegorical.24 Tolkien once composed a conversation that occurred between Finrod Felagund and a wise woman called Andreth. They speak mostly of the evils of the world, but also discuss the hope to which they may still cling. As they discuss these things, they begin to realize that the only way in which the evils of men and elves can be remedied would be if Eru Himself were to enter Arda, the World. Andreth asks, “They speak of Eru Himself entering into Arda, and that is a thing wholly different. How could He the greater do this? Would it not shatter Arda?”25 But Finrod’s answer is a testimony to the omnipotence of Eru, the One:
If Eru wished to do this, I do not doubt that He would find a way. . . . I cannot conceive how else this healing could be achieved. Since Eru will surely not suffer Melkor to turn the world to his own will and to triumph in the end. Yet there is no power conceivable greater than Melkor save Eru only. Therefore Eru, if He will relinquish His work to Melkor, who must else proceed to mastery, then Eru must come in to conquer him.26
Bradley notes that this is the “central explanatory text of the theology of Tolkien’s mythological world.”27 Such a statement is not without warrant. If Tolkien’s myth is a reflection of the true myth of Christianity, the central event of which is the Incarnation of God, it is fitting that the central event in Middle-earth’s history is the Incarnation of Eru. Also, as Finrod points out, Eru is the only Being great enough to conquer Melkor, just as God is the only Being powerful enough to defeat Satan and his allies, sin and death. As Tolkien’s son Christopher put it, this “surely is not parody, nor even a parallel . . . but the extension—if only represented as vision, hope or prophecy—of the ‘theology’ of Arda into specifically, and of course centrally, Christian belief.”28
Christ Himself is also implicitly present in Tolkien’s masterwork The Lord of the Rings, often thought of be represented in the aspects of priest, prophet and king by the central characters of Frodo, Gandalf and Aragorn, respectively.29 A priest is one who offers a sacrifice, and like Christ, Frodo is both priest and victim, sacrificing himself to save Middle-earth. The Ring is his cross, symbolizing the entirety of evil and sin, just as the cross of Christ was heavy with the weight of humanity’s sins. “It’s such a weight to carry, such a weight,” sighs Frodo as he prepares for the final assent of Mt. Doom on his own via dolorosa.30 As another type of Christ, Gandalf the Grey exemplifies the prophetic aspect of the Christian mission, warning of future chastisement if men fail to initiate a war against evil. Entering the hall of Théoden, King of Rohan, Gandalf declares, “Behold! the storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed.”31 As a prophet, it is Gandalf’s mission to protect and mobilize those faithful to Eru in the final war of the age. Like most prophets of the Old Testament, Gandalf’s words are often unwelcome. Théoden of Rohan expresses a sentiment common among the rulers whom Gandalf counsels:
“Maybe you look for welcome. But truth to tell your welcome is doubtful here, Master Gandalf. You have ever been a herald of woe. Troubles follow you like crows, and ever oftener the worse. . . . Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow?32
Yet, like the true prophets of old, Gandalf does not shy from his mission, but speaks the truth to all who will hear him. Aragorn, the hidden heir of the throne of Gondor, is also a reflection of Christ, the King Who came to reestablish the throne of His father David, and Who will come again in glory to establish His kingdom on earth. Like Christ, Aragorn is a healer of the sick and dying, for “the hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.”33
Just as men marveled at Christ’s authority over demons and even the dead, Legolas wonders at the seemingly divine authority of Aragorn’s kingship, since he can command the ghosts of traitorous men, and “even the shades of men are obedient to his will.”34 When Aragorn is depicted at his coronation, several descriptions of him are identical or similar to those applied to Christ in the Scriptures. He is “ancient of days,” a Biblical title for the Messiah in Micah 5:2, and like Christ, “strength and healing were in his hands.”35 Aragorn is obviously a true Messianic King figure in the epic, and insofar as he demonstrates the qualities of a true king, he reflects the Divine Kingship of Christ.
Tolkien once wrote that the Resurrection of Christ was the most perfect example of what he called “eucatastrophe,” which is, as Verlyn Flieger explains, “the ‘sudden joyous “turn”’
of apparently disastrous events, the moment past all hope when we know that everything is going to be all right.”36 Nevertheless, the eucatastrophe is not merely any turn for the better, since the “joy of the turn, the consolation of eucatastrophe, is dependent on the fear of its opposite, the bad turn towards sorrow and failure. The ever-present possibility of dyscatastrophe is what makes the joy at deliverance so piercing, and leads to the denial of ‘universal final defeat.’”37 As explained previously, Tolkien believed that Christianity is the “true myth,” and thus it was logical for him to state that:
“The Birth of Christ is the eucatastrophe of Man’s history. The Resurrection is the eucatastrophe of the story of the Incarnation. This story begins and ends in joy. . . .
There is no tale ever told that men would rather find was true, and none which so many skeptical men have accepted as true on its own merits. For the Art of it has the supremely convincing tone of Primary Art, that is, of Creation. 38
Not surprisingly, in his own subcreation Tolkien echoes the Primary Art, and the eucatastrophe of the Resurrection in particular.
When Gandalf is lost to the darkness in the mines of Moria, certain events reflect Tolkien’s reference to the ultimate eucatastrophe. Gandalf falls defending the fellowship, making the ultimate sacrifice of himself like Christ, undergoing a kind of death through his fall into the darkness. There, in the depths of the earth, he battles and defeats the Balrog, even as Christ overthrew Satan and his power and descended into Hell. Yet after he had conquered the enemy and seemed altogether spent, Gandalf was returned to Middle-earth, greater in power and wisdom than before, “clothed in white.”39
His startling appearance to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli is one of the great eucatastrophies of Lord of the Rings, and is similar to Jesus’ Transfiguration, which was a revelation of His resurrected and glorified body. Like Christ, Gandalf appears to three astounded persons, who “between wonder, joy, and fear . . . found no words to say,” and is clothed in “gleaming white.”40 As he expresses the joy that elates him at this unexpected turn for the better, Aragorn exclaims, “Beyond all hope you return to us in our need!”41 This is the essence of eucatastrophe: the fulfillment of joy beyond all hope and evil odds.
Another example of a eucatastrophe that reflects the Resurrection is centered about Aragorn, another Christ figure. Like Christ Who descended to the dead from which no living man had yet returned, in order to free them from sin, Aragorn must tread the Paths of the Dead and free the dead from their oath caused by their sin of treachery; like Christ, he must “pass into the shadow from which none have returned.”42
After summoning the dead to his will and releasing them from their oath, Aragorn sails to the aid of Gondor in the captured black ships of his enemies. When those defending the city set eyes upon the ships that once belonged to their enemies, they cry out with despair: “It is the last stroke of doom!” 43
They are like the followers of Christ who abandoned hope after His death, believing that death had conquered Him. Yet like Christ, Aragorn has conquered death, and paradoxically, death has become the instrument of his victory over it, since the shades of dead men are the agents of his victory over the black ships. As Satan was confounded by Christ’s defeat of death and His transformation of death into life, so too the enemies of Gondor are “seized with bewilderment, and a great wizardry it seemed to them that their own ships should be filled with foes.” 44
Éomer expresses the piercing joy of this eucatastrophe as he rejoices: “Twice blessed is help unlooked for, and never was a meeting of friends more joyful.” 45
Magic or Faith?
Another uniquely Christian element in Tolkien’s writing is his view of magic. Tolkien does not attribute magical “powers” to both good and evil characters, and this sets him apart from many contemporary authors of fantasy. Although some posit that Tolkien’s protagonists use magic just as much any fantasy hero, Tolkien himself argues:
I have not used “magic” consistently, and indeed the Elven-queen Galadriel is obliged to remonstrate with the Hobbits on their confused use of the word both for the devices and operations of the Enemy, and for those of the Elves. I have not, because there is not a word for the latter (since all human stories have suffered the same confusion). But the Elves are there (in my tales) to demonstrate the difference. Their “magic” is Art, delivered from many of its human limitations: more effortless, more quick, more complete (product, and vision in an unflawed correspondence). And its object is Art not Power, sub-creation not domination and tyrannous re-forming of Creation. 46
Indeed, these Elven arts are more akin to Catholic Sacraments or sacramentals, which are exterior rights and symbols that rejuvenate the soul with grace to give one strength on the spiritual journey. There are several examples of such “magical” arts in The Lord of the Rings that not only effect the physical word, but primarily the spiritual realm. In one episode, when the Fellowship of the Ring receives cloaks of Elven-make, two of the hobbits ask if they are “magic cloaks.” 47
Expressing Tolkien’s notion of art as the object of magic, an Elf responds:
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 we love into all that we make. . . . You will find them a great aid in keeping out of sight of unfriendly eyes.” 48
This Elf understands the “magic” of his people as art, art that can ward off the emissaries of evil by its beauty and conformity with true reality. In contrast, the voice of Saruman is an example of the power to dominate that magic, not art, exerts: “The sound of the voice alone was enough to hold them enthralled; but for those whom it conquered the spell endured when they were far away, and ever they heard that soft voice whispering and urging them.” 49
The verbs used here are particularly telling; “enthralled” and “conquered” denote a siege of the will, an effort to break down and enslave the spirit. The most obvious example of this sort of magic is the Ring itself. The Ring’s inscription is enough to prove its association with domination and thralldom: “One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them.” 50
Galadriel also expresses disappointment with the equation of magic and art: “This is what your folk would call magic, I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem to use the same word for the deceits of the Enemy.” 51
Like the Sacraments, Elven art is an outward sign that gives grace, not a coercion of the will and the forces of nature through unnatural power.
Most sublime of all the “sacramental arts” of the elves is lembas or “way bread,” which most clearly parallels the Catholic Holy Eucharist.52 Like the Eucharist, lembas is bread that gives one spiritual strength for the journey, “for they could eat of it and find new strength even as they ran.”53 Tolkien once wrote to his son:
“You speak of ‘sagging faith’, however. . . . The only cure for sagging of faith is Communion. Though always Itself, perfect and complete and inviolate, the Blessed Sacrament does not operate completely and once for all in any of us. Like the act of Faith it must be continuous and grow by exercise.” 54
On the final journey through Mordor, the way-bread of the Elves fortifies the hobbits with renewed hope, and prevents an otherwise inevitable “sagging of faith”: “The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have lain down to die. . . . It fed the will, and it gave strength to endure, and to master sinew and limb beyond the measure of mortal kind.” 55 It is not surprising that of all Tolkien’s Catholic symbolism, this would be the most explicit. Tolkien himself cultivated a deep and personal devotion to the Eucharist, evidenced by his recollection, “I fell in love with the Blessed Sacrament from the beginning—and by the mercy of God never have fallen out again.” 56
Tolkien’s personal dedication to portraying the truth about faith and reality in his mythology has resulted in his widespread popularity. His nearly universal appeal can only be attributed to the absolute truth that his myth reflects. When rhetorically asked by an artist whether he truly believed that he alone was the author of The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien recalled:
“I think I said: “No, I don’t suppose so any longer.” I have never since been able to suppose so. An alarming conclusion for an old philologist to draw concerning his private amusement. But not one that should puff any one up who considers the imperfections of “chosen instruments”, and indeed what sometimes seems their lamentable unfitness for the purpose.” 57
Tolkien believed that his ability to vividly subcreate a fantasy world that so closely mirrors true reality was, in the words of Niggle, “a gift.”58 As he later explained: “If sanctity inhabits [my] work or as a pervading light illumines it then it does not come from [me] but through [me].”59
Because of his devotion to his Catholic Faith, Tolkien understood that any success he may have realized in his reflection of the “true myth” was due to God Himself. The words of Birzer Bradely expressively summarize his achievement:
“Tolkien the subcreator fulfilled his purpose as best he could. His vocation was to redeem the time through a Christ-inspired and God-centered mythology, to counter the dryness and devastation of the modern world with enchantment, to provide a glimpse of the True Joy, and to speak for all things: Valar, Maiar, incarnate angels, Elves, Dwarves, ents, hobbits … even modern men and women.”60
Truly, Tolkien the subcreator has accomplished his quest.
1 J.R.R. Tolkien, “Mythopoeia,” in Tree and Leaf (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1989), 98.
2 Humphrey Carpenter, J.R.R. Tolkien: A biography (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 2000), 151.
3 Joseph Pearce, Tolkien: Man and Myth (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1998), 23.
4 Carpenter, 151.
5 J.R.R. Tolkien, The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1981), 145.
6 Pearce, Man and Myth, 193.
7 Tolkien, Letters, 121.
8 Joseph Pearce, “Narnia and Middle Earth: When Two Worlds Collude,” The Catholic World Report, December 2005, 30.
9 J.R.R. Tolkien, “Leaf by Niggle,” in Tree and Leaf (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1989), 88-89.
10 Joseph Pearce, “Tolkien and the Catholic Literary Revival,” in Tolkien: A Celebration, edited by Joseph Pearce (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2001), 108-109.
11 James V. Schall, SJ, “On the Reality of Fantasy,” in Tolkien: A Celebration, edited by Joseph Pearce (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2001), 67.
12 J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers, part 2, The Lord of the Rings (New York: Ballantine Books, 1994), 29.
13 Pearce, Man and Myth, 145, 147.
14 Pearce, “Narnia and Middle Earth,” 30.
16 J.R.R. Tolkien, “On Fairy-Stories,” in Tree and Leaf (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1989), 64-65.
17 Pearce, Man and Myth, 94.
18 Tolkien, Letters, 172.
19 Birzer J. Bradley, J.R.R. Tolkien’s Sanctifying Myth: Understanding Middle-earth (Wilmington, DE: ISI Books, 2002), 47.
20 J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, edited by Christopher Tolkien (New York: Ballantine Books, 1982), 3.
21 Tolkien, Letters, 368
22 Tolkien, Silmarillion
23 Tolkien, Letters, 146, 3.
24 Bradley, 58.
25 J.R.R. Tolkien, Morgoth’s Ring, vol. 10, The History of Middle-Earth, edited by Christopher Tolkien (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1993), 332.
27 Bradley, 58.
29 Bradley, 59.
30 J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King, part 3, The Lord of the Rings (New York: Ballantine Books, 1994), 228.
31 Tolkien, Two Towers, 124.
33 Tolkien, Return of the King, 138.
34 Ibid., 155.
35 Ibid., 266.
36 Verlyn Flieger, Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien’s World (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 2002), 27.
38 Tolkien, “On Fairy-Stories,” 65.
39 Tolkien, Two Towers, 111-112.
40 Ibid., 102.
42 Tolkien, Return of the King, 61.
43 Ibid., 121.
44 Ibid., 122.
45 Ibid., 123.
46 Tolkien, Letters, 146.
47 J.R. R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring, part 1, The Lord of the Rings (New York: Ballantine Books, 1994), 415.
48 Ibid., 416.
49 Tolkien, Two Towers, 202.
50 Tolkien, Fellowship of the Ring, 55.
51 Tolkien, Fellowship of the Ring, 405.
52 Bradley, 63.
53 Tolkien, Two Towers, 20.
54 Tolkien, Letters, 337, 338.
55 Tolkien, Return of the King, 227-28.
56 Tolkien, The Letters, 340.
58 Tolkien, “Leaf by Niggle,” 88.
59 Tolkien, Letters, 413.
60 Bradley, 138.
Written and submitted by Andreth_Laiqualasse