Showing posts with label Middle Earth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Middle Earth. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Tales of the First Age: “Beren and Luthien” by J.R.R. Tolkien


Christopher Tolkien, the youngest of J.R.R. Tolkien’s three sons, will be 93 this year. He is his father’s literary executor, and he has spent the years since his father’s death in 1973 poring over papers and files, considering an array of various texts, different versions of stories and poems, staying true to his father’s vision and helping publish a considerable number of books that represent both wonderful stories and insights into The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. It is because of Christopher that we have The Silmarillion, The Children of Hurin, many of the lost tales, the elder Tolkien’s translation of Beowulf, and many other works.

Christopher Tolkien
The latest, and possibly the last, is Beren and Luthien, a love story between Beren, a mortal man in exile after his father and clanare killed, and Luthien, an Elf princess (the idea of which was carried over into The Lord of the Rings). Luthien is also called Tinuviel by Beren, and it is by that name we see her part in the story. Beren sees Luthien dancing in the woods and falls in love with her. Her father isn’t exactly pleased, and he agrees to the marriage only if Beren can steal a Silmaril, a jewel in the crown of Melkor, the Black Enemy, also known as Morgoth – and a forerunner of Sauron in the trilogy. He’s captured and enslaved in the kitchen, and Luthien travels to his rescue. With the help of a giant dog (who tricks an evil cat), she succeeds in Beren, and then more adventures happen.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.


Friday, March 3, 2017

“The Children of Hurin” and “The Lay of Aotrou & Itroun” by J.R. R. Tolkien


Imagine a young man of 20 or so, caught up in the trench warfare of World War I, experiencing the daily reality of mud, rats, lice, and bombardment, and writing stories about elves and dwarves, dragons and men of valor, stories of doomed heroes set in a time remote from the present. Before The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, there was a manuscript called The Book of Lost Tales, a manuscript written a century ago.

One of lost tales, those stories of the First Age or what J.R.R. Tolkien referred to as the “Elder Days,” was The Children of Hurin. It is a dark story, a tale of a curse, but it is a fierce story, a moving story, a story whose ending you know but you keep reading anyway because you’re caught in the grip of a master storyteller and he won’t let go.

Hurin is a heroic king, married to Morwen and the father of the boy Turin. He has set off with his allies to fight the Black Enemy, named Morgoth, who is seeking to dominate the worlds of men and elves with his own armies of Orcs and evil men. Hurin and his allies are defeated; Hurin is taken prisoner but is not killed. Instead, he is made a permanent captive and Morgoth places a curse upon his children.


To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.