The tower of adamant.

…Barad-dûr, the Dark Tower, which suffered no rival,

and laughed at flattery, biding its time,

secure in its pride and its immeasurable strength.

(Two Towers, p. 192)

Just like Angband in the First Age became the citadel of Morgoth — the embodiment of evil and the Dark Lord’s tyranny in Middle-earth, so did Barad-dûr rise to fill its place in the Second and Third Ages as the fortress of Sauron. In many ways the Dark Tower of Mordor, built by once Morgoth’s most trusted lieutenant, became the descendant of Angband, sharing traits with it, but also being the reflection of Sauron’s own power, character, ambitions and evil. Read more

On Aulë’s humility.

Being the person who sub-created a vast and detailed literary world, J. R. R. Tolkien felt sympathetic with those who made things, too, whether the results were the creations of their hands or minds. However, as a sub-creator Tolkien was very well aware of the pitfalls of being one, the worst of them — becoming unhealthy attached to one’s work. The Professor clearly shows in his books that remaining humble is one of the key aspects of not falling victim to the work of one’s hands or mind. A perfect example of such an attitude is Aulë. Read more

Christopher Tolkien: the son’s literary feat.

Tolkien readers, scholars and enthusiasts of today are incredibly fortunate as they have a unique collection of Professor’s writings available to them. Apart from The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, some poems, short stories and academic papers, which appeared during Tolkien’s life, there are also posthumously published works, including early and transitional versions of the well-known stories, non-Middle-earth and academic writings. None of this would have been possible, though, had it not been for Tolkien’s son Christopher. Read more

Language notes /// On Galadriel.

Beautiful she is, sir! Lovely! Sometimes like

a great tree in flower, sometimes like a white

daffadowndilly, small and slender like. Hard as

di’monds, soft as moonlight. Warm as sunlight,

cold as frost in the stars. Proud and far-off as a

snow-mountain, and as merry as any lass

I ever saw with daisies in her hair in springtime.

(Two Towers, p. 357)

Read more