Books in the same style as the author of the lord of the rings
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/14201.Jonathan_Strange_Mr_Norrell
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
2015-06-19
Author
<div><div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/84023-j-g-keely"></a></section><section><p>546 reviews9,510 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1195173">September 1, 2015</a></section><div><p>Sigh, just what we need, another revolutionary, unusual fantasy book by an author with a practiced mastery of tone. When will authors like Clarke realize that what the fantasy genre needs are more pseudo-medieval <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monomyth">monomyths</a> that sprawl out into fifteen volumes?<p>Her magic didn't conveniently solve all of the characters' problems, instead, they wasted time thinking through conflicts and then had to solve them by taking action; how dull is that? The magic was weird, anyways. It didn't have a simplistic, internal system to allow it to act as a one-for-one substitute with technology, it was just all unpredictable and otherworldly and unknowable--how can you even call that 'magic'?</p><p>And the characters were overly-complicated. Instead of acting as recognizable archetypes, they were complex, conflicted, and developed as the story progressed. For some reason, they also seemed hesitant to fall back on the default plan of attacking anything that gets in their way, which was probably why this book was so long. I guess they just didn't have a strong enough sense of honor to instantly kill anyone who opposed them.</p><p>And then, instead of having her characters laboriously explain how the world worked to each other, she made brief mentions in footnotes, as if she were writing a history. I'm not sure why she made this decision, I often explain to my friends in basic terms how cars and money work in our culture, so it's clear that endless expositionary dialogue is the most realistic way to inform the reader. I mean, I guess you could just have the omniscient narrator tell us everything in detail, that's almost as good.</p><p>Come to think of it, this book had a lot of history stuff, it was almost like she had read a whole bunch about the period her book was set in, which is such a waste of time, because if that's what I wanted, I'd just read a history book. I mean sure, the author could take some vague things from a period, but otherwise they should just treat everything as if it were the modern day so it'll make sense. Besides, if she had any errors, she could just remind us that 'it's fiction!', so it's all fake anyways and it's pointless to try to make it seem real.</p><p>I guess she thought she was Jane Austen, or something, gradually building a tonal portrait of the world and revealing the characters through details of action and conversation. I don't know why she would try to write like those boring, old, dead authors, they wouldn't have to make us read them in school if they were good.</p><p>I should have known it was going to be bad when I saw it had footnotes in it, like a textbook or something, but I tried not to read any of them because I didn't want to accidentally learn some stupid fact (and then be STUCK with it FOREVER), because I'm saving up that brain space to memorize the lineage of the ninth house of the Dragonpriests of Ur, or maybe which incantation can counterspell the splash damage effect of a lesser draconic fireball.</p><p>So the whole book, I kept waiting for one of the women to be raped (or at the very least <i>threatened</i> with rape), or maybe <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/464685.Tarnsman_of_Gor">enslaved</a>, or for someone to be <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/43889.Wizard_s_First_Rule">put in a collar and tortured</a> by a woman in leather, or to be <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/228665">spanked in public</a> as part of some cultural ritual, or to walk through flames while <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13496.A_Game_of_Thrones">spraying breastmilk everywhere</a>, or some other perfectly normal expression of human sexuality, but don't bother waiting, you'll only be disappointed. Really, the only thing that could have made it worse is if it were illustrated by Charles Vess, like the equally hopeless <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/86012992">sequel</a>.</p><p>So yeah, basically this book is WAY TOO LONG! I mean, it was totally worth it for me to read the first five twelve-hundred-page books of the <i>Dragonkingspell Cycle</i> (it starts to get good at book six), but that's nothing compared to how much it tried my patience to read this book. I probably wouldn't have been able to finish it if I didn't need something to read while waiting twelve years for Jeb R.R.R. Franzibald to finish book seven.</p><p>But I guess if you <i>like</i> a well-researched, historically accurate book that doesn't tell the same, familiar story, doesn't use magic as a plot facilitator, reads like a Gothic novel, slowly builds the story based on psychologically-developed characters, and is obsessed with tone, then this is the book for you! Congratulations.</p><p>Otherwise, you can sit around with me and hope the author of our favorite series doesn't die before finishing vol. XVIII of <i>The Epic Magic Sword of the Undead Dragon Throne Saga Duovigintilogy</i>, where we will finally discover whether the badass, outcast, swordmaster, dragonrider assassin prince defeats the great evil, once and for all (with the help of his trusty albino wolf/girlfriend, of course).</p><p><a href="http://starsbeetlesandfools.blogspot.com/2012/06/suggested-readings-in-fantasy.html">My Fantasy Book Suggestions</a></p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/84023?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/84023?shelf=favorites">favorites</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/84023?shelf=novel">novel</a> </ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/94602-kelly"></a></section><section><p>878 reviews3,958 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1384024">June 20, 2007</a></section><div><p>Without a doubt the best book I have read this year. I write that without hesitation and with a beaming smile on my face. Incredible. Enthralling. Amazing. The book was over 800 pages long and it did not seem long enough. When I finished the book, I immediately turned out the light and tried to drift off to sleep, because I knew nothing else I did that night was going to top the feeling I got after blowing through the last 100 pages like a madwoman. I want to start it over again, immediately.<p>The book is like reading Dickens, with the dialogue of Jane Austen, and the best writing of every classic fantasy I've read. All at once. Clarke manages to pay her homage while being entirely original herself. And the pages just keep turning and turning. You almost don't notice as 200 pages go by in less than two hours. This is a book to devour. Again, and again, and again. For those who have never been interested in the fantasy genre before, do not be put off. It's not even about the fantasy, though of course it is a major presence and the plot focuses around it. History geeks: There are three delightful, hilarious appearances by Wellington, George III and Lord Byron, as well as various Cabinet ministers of the time period.</p><p>The prose is wonderful, dead-on. Clarke has the ability to shift seamlessly from witty, sarcastic, detached prose and dialogue in the style of Jane Austen or Oscar Wilde:</p><p><i>"These ladies and gentlemen, visitors to the city of Venice, were excessively pleased with the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. They thought the facades of the houses very magnificent- they could not praise them highly enough. But the sad decay which buildings, bridges and church all displayed seemed to charm them even more. They were Englishmen and, to them, the decline of other nations was the most natural thing in the world. They belonged to a race so blessed with so sensitive an appreciation of its own talents (and so doubtful an opinion of any body else's) that they would not have been at all surprised to learn that the Venetians themselves had been entirely ignorant of the merits of their own city- until Englishmen had come to tell them it was delightful."</i></p><p>... and then shift into lines that would do any fantasy author proud: <i>"Spring returned to England. Birds followed ploughs. Stones were warmed by the sun. Rains and winds grew softer, and were fragranced by the scents of the earth and growing things. Woods were tinged with a colour so soft, so subtle that it could scarcely be said to be a colour at all. It was more the /idea/ of a colour- as if the trees were dreaming green dreams or thinking green thoughts."</i></p><p>Those quotes don't do it justice, they were just ones my eyes came across when I randomly opened pages. The writing is just beyond fantastic, to say the least. </p><p>That, on top of an intriguing, well developed, /incredibly/ well researched portrait of England at the time of the Napoleonic wars? It manages to cover all the major areas that British literature is known for, all at once, in one book, and do them all justice. Clarke is also able to touch on a lot of serious issues that were present in England at the time: (racial relations, the problems of a hereditary ruling class..) She makes you aware of them as a background, but doesn't push them in your face. It's just another way she's able to make her evocation of the time period that much more perfect.</p><p>... I should perhaps have written this review with a greater distance from finishing the novel. But I think I'm justified in doing it now, if only to give an idea of the kind of amazing feeling that the book gives you from reading it and finishing it.</p><p>Books like this are why I love literature.</p><p>Read it. End of story.</p><p>(... finally.)</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/94602?shelf=21st-century">21st-century</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/94602?shelf=brit-lit">brit-lit</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/94602?shelf=fantasy-and-scifi">fantasy-and-scifi</a> </ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/188224-eric"></a></section><section><p>65 reviews75 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/3060717">July 14, 2007</a></section><div><p>I so wanted to like this book. The idea is just wonderful. I was so pleased for a while to be in that world, a historical England. I love the dialogue and descriptions. And I love the idea of magic in an otherwise real setting, as though it were a normal part of our actual world. But it was so frustrating to read after a while. The footnotes, auuuugh, the footnotes. They were cute at first, because the book is written sort of like a history book from that period. But after a while they were just so long and so unrelated to the main story that they became seriously cumbersome. And just when the story would be getting involved, she'd fast forward 2 years or 10 years and the last part of the story, though unresolved, would be pretty much forgotten. Boooo! <p>The end was annoying, or rather the way the main characters reacted to it. It's fiction, it's fantasy, but when you're writing about basic human beings who have otherwise behaved consistently throughout the book, and then they react to something in a way you know isn't consistent and isn't how people would act, it pops the bubble of your suspended disbelief and sort of ruins the story. Another annoying thing is that we keep waiting to learn more about why Mr. Norrell acts the way he does, but we never do learn. He's just a pill and that's it. That's poor writing, No motivations for him, no insight into his character. So really he just serves a function in the book that could have been served by an inanimate object.</p><p>Overall the book is just filled with too many things that seem to have no point. It's not that they aren't interesting by themselves or couldn't have been made into something wonderful, it's just that they are tossed out there randomly and not connected to anything. In that way, the cold, dispassionate history book style disappoints, because what we really want is a story. We want to care about the characters and see resolution of some kind. Booo!</p><p>There will apparently be more books set in this world, but I won't be reading them. It's just too much of a time investment in a seemingly great idea that doesn't pay off.</p></p></div><section><ul></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/243542-tiza"></a></section><section><p>8 reviews52 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/3944269">August 31, 2015</a></section><div><p>Although <i>Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell</i> turns out to be a book I dearly love, I'm afraid I can't recommend it to just anyone. Whether you'll like it or not will truly depend on what you expect it to be. If you wish for a fast-paced excitement then this book is probably not for you. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell is a blend of meticulously researched historical fiction and imaginative fantasy, sprinkled here and there with biting social comedy, and written in a style similar to Austen's, which is, of course, relevant to the age in which the story takes place, the early years of 19th century England. The plot mainly focuses in the revival of magic in England, an art that has been long fallen into disuse but still theoretically studied by many. Among these people two gentlemen who actually practise the art come into the spotlight: the tedious, reclusive Gilbert Norrell and his pupil Jonathan Strange. The story further unfurls with the appearance of a certain silver-haired fairy, Norrell's and Strange's involvements in the Napoleonic Wars, and also the revelation of the prophecy of The Raven King in all its mythical grandeur.<p>JS &amp; MN is a long, meandering read that needs to be slowly savored, not to be rushed. I started reading it feeling a little bit wary myself,the first hundred pages being undeniably dragging. But I soon came to a certain point where something just clicked, and from there on it was almost impossible to put it down. This book is over 1000 pages long, and yet, as I close the book in completion, I asked myself of how 1000 pages could seemingly be so terribly short.</p><p>For me, who end up liking this book, JS &amp; MN is a true charmer, compelling in all its subtlety, imaginative, witty and beautifully written. Clarke has a flair in language use. She employs the right words at all the right moments to make us feel exactly what she intends us to feel, and see exactly what she wants us to see. With this ability at hands she creates a fine balance of myths, magic, history, warfare, politic and mundane domestic life. Clarke treats magic as an object of study in the truest sense. Some parts of the book read like an academic essay, with long studious arguments of why such and such magic can or cannot be done, various citations from the works of great magicians long dead, and insanely lengthy footnotes (which people ever so often think as annoying distractions, yet I found them really fun to read). She also has a perfect grasp about the age in which her characters are living. Thus her writing comes off convincingly like a product of 19th century British literature (though it has the virtue of being more comprehensible), perfectly written with all the old spellings: chuse, sopha, shew, <i>surprize</i>. </p><p>Clarke's characterization is definitely one of the best elements in the book. The characters, be it the main protagonists or otherwise, are solidly drawn and interesting, as lovable as they are flawed. Strange, though not someone who is altogether admirable, is charming and generally more likable, and yet narrow-minded Norrell, with all his jealousy and peevishness, feels all too human that I couldn't help but sympathise with him even when I didn't want to.</p><p>A literary merit though this book is, please be warned that not everyone will find it fascinating. If you're halfway through the book and it still doesn't pique your interest, put it down then, save your precious time. But if you're halfway through and already been absorbed it's very likely you'll be graced with something that stays with you days and weeks after you finished reading it. I know it did this for me. Definitely one of those rare treats I'd be willingly and gladly re-read each year.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/243542?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/8734459-tadiana-night-owl"></a></section><section><p>1,880 reviews22.6k followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/556234272">May 18, 2020</a></section><div><p><b>$1.99 Kindle sale, May 18, 2020.</b> I adore and highly recommend this Regency-era fantasy <b>but</b> it definitely isn't everyone's cuppa tea! The bad: It's a doorstopper of a novel, very long and very slow-paced. The good: It's absolutely brilliant, filled with intricate details, REALLY creative. Give it a shot!<p>Adventures in reading <i>Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell</i> with my real-life book club (also posted on <a href="http://www.fantasyliterature.com/">Fantasy Literature</a>):</p><p><b>Tadiana:</b> This book is like a mashup of Jane Austen, or maybe Charles Dickens, and fantasy, with Regency-era British magicians and charming, vindictive and devious faeries. It creates an incredibly rich, complex and detailed fantasy world; the Raven King mythology is fantastic. The main plotline of this novel deals with the on-and-off friendship between two very different magicians: Mr Norrell, who is bookish, stuffy and reclusive, and Jonathan Strange, who's a younger, charming and impetuous person, and their dealings and troubles with Faerie and other magical places and characters, but there are several subplots intricately woven into this tale. It thoughtfully explores some interesting issues that you wouldn't expect, like the difficulties women, servants and minorities have had in making their voices heard. This is a truly unique and inventive novel. It challenged my brain and fascinated me. I adored it.</p><p><b>Rest of book club:</b> This book is soooo long. Aaand kind of confusing, not to mention slow and boring. </p><p><b>Tadiana:</b> I love the dry humor. The tongue-in-cheek quasi-scholarly footnotes totally crack me up.</p><p><b>Rest of book club:</b> Seriously, what is the deal with those bizarre footnotes? They're just weird.</p><p><b>Tadiana:</b> Imma buy this in hardback and keep it forever.</p><p><b>Rest of book club:</b> DNF<br /></p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/8734459?shelf=book-club-reads">book-club-reads</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/8734459?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/8734459?shelf=favorites">favorites</a> </ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/196574-meagan"></a></section><section><p>53 reviews13 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5225665">December 25, 2007</a></section><div><p>Jesus Christ, this book reads like molasses. It's like the author took every book from her Brit Lit class and consciously tried to make it wordier and longer than all of them combined. I get the point she wants to make, but I honestly could not get past the second chapter. <p>It also was so incredibly pretentious. The whole thing has this superior feel, like having a conversation with someone who is absolutely reassured of how much smarter they are than you. It left me feeling bored, stupid, depressed and confused, and those are four words that I do not like to associate with reading.</p><p>If you really want to plow through a novel like this, just go read some <a href="https://goodreads.com/author/show/239579.Charles_Dickens"> Charles Dickens</a>. You get used to him after a few pages and you start to like him after the first chapter. Clarke, however, never redeems herself.</p></p></div><section><ul></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/27788046-sean-barrs"></a></section><section><p>1,105 reviews44.2k followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/826616653">March 8, 2016</a></section><div><p>Book like this are not written anymore. This feels like it should have been published in the nineteenth century and not because of the obvious setting, but because of the remarkable writing style. It is very similar to Austen’s that I’m sure she might have been delighted by Clarke’s work. Well, maybe. But, either way novelists like this do not exist in this age, unfortunately. The writing has the feel of a classic, but the plot has the feel of a thoroughly charming fantasy. <p><b> This is a work of complete magical genius </b></p><p> </p><p>Indeed, she has written it in the pastiche style of Jane Austen and Charles Dickens; she has used their language style, narrative techniques and masterful characterisations to create a novel that is a superb work of fantasy. If Austen or Dickens strayed away from their realism novels then this is what it could look like. Susanna Clarke is an absolute wonderful writer. I wish there were more writers like her. Words, literally, cannot express my reverence for this novel: I simply adore it. </p><p>The plot is incredible. Imagine an England in the nineteenth century, not much unlike the real one, that is prosperous, full of gentleman and completely devoid of all magic and fantasy: it reeks of realism. The inhabitants are offended by the idea of magic being reputable; the very thought is inconceivable. Magic is not respectable because the streets are infested with street performers and fakes that claim to do magic. There are also theoretical magicians who merely study its principals and have never succeeded in the practical side. However, there is one man in England who has spent the last forty years buried under a pile of books. His name is Mr Norrell, and he is the greatest magician of the age. </p><p><b> A friendship of necessity </b></p><p></p><p>Norrell is a bibliophile; he is a book hoarder and is quite possible the biggest bookworm that has ever lived. (I give him a silent bow.) He has devised his own system of magic that is reputable and gentleman like: it is modern magic. He keeps his perilous, and beloved, tomes to himself. He fears that such deadly books will be misused, but he also wants to be the only man in England that knows their secrets. Behind his mask of propriety and professionalism there is a soul that longs for the ancient magic that he detest so vehemently. This magic is powered by fate, and demands that two magicians, not one, must restore magic to dreary old England. </p><p><i>“I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment.”</i></p><p>The second magician is called Johnathan Strange, and he becomes Norrell’s pupil much to the old man’s delight and dismay. Where Norrell is cautious, studious, and self-conceiting Strange is reckless, open to new knowledge and practical. He is eager to push the boundaries of his tutors limited approach to magic; he is eager to use the magic Norrel detests. He fights in the Napoleonic war to bring magic into high repute whereas his tutor stays in his library doing weather magic to dog the French. Strange is young and energetic, but he also is practical to the needs of his country. </p><p><i>“Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never would.”</i></p><p>It is no wonder then that England prefers Strange to his tutor. However, only with his mentor can Strange attempt to restore English magic. The two are complete opposites, and only side by side can the opposing magicians restore magic to a dreary and bleak England: only together can they bring back the Raven King. The relationship between the two men, for me, really elevated this novel to the next level. They begin as student and tutor, but end up as equals. The dynamics change between the two as student outshines tutor, and threatens to destroy everything he represents. </p><p><b>Authenticity </b></p><p></p><p>I think by setting this is an England that is realistic, and very true to the actual one, Clarke pulls at the heart strings of many a reader. I think this has affected so many readers for the same reason the <i> Harry Potter</i> series did. Clarke, like Rowling, shows us a world that is dry and boring; it is infested by those that have no affinity for magic. Then underneath it all they both reveal worlds that are enchanting and magical. Indeed, most people long for a sense of the fantastic and escape from the mundane realism that is their life. Well, at least I do. Clarke, like Rowling, offers a glimpse of a world that is like our own, only better. </p><p>Moreover, the footnotes and magical text references, used by Clarke, help to add further weight to this feeling. These make the novel seem academic, and reflect the age in which it was set, they give a sense of actuality behind the fantastical. Some of the footnotes are huge, and they do interrupt the narrative. However, this is a more effective means of delivery the history of such a beautiful world than, for example, having the characters reproduce is verbatim in speech. I think it’s a much less awkward way, and creates the sense that this world could exist, should exist. </p><p>In addition to this, the structure of the novel reflects the age in which it represents. The novel is divided into three volumes, and towards the end Clarke utilises the hugely popular, and utterly brilliant, epistolary means of storytelling. Both demonstrate a norm of novel writing in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which reflects the novel structure associated with the time. The language Clarke uses is akin to the wonderful Jane Austen, and the underline sarcasm, like in Austen’s works, is apparent. Indeed, Clarke continuously mocks Napoleon Bonaparte; I disagree with her assessment of him, however, the opinion she wields reflects that of the English at the time, so in a sense it enhances the feeling afore mentioned. </p><p><b> I adore this book </b></p><p>This book is simply brilliant. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to articulate exactly how wonderful it is. If I had magic I could show you, but, alas, I am a mere theoretical magician. Seriously though, I get emotional when I think about the sheer excellence of this book; I’ve read this twice now and in all honesty I can say that I immediately want to read it again. Strange and Norrel are two of the most interesting, and well written, characters I’ve ever read about. They are both right in their arguments, and both wrong. It’s such a unique and memorable relationship. </p><p><i>“There is nothing else in magic but the wild thought of the bird as it casts itself into the void. There is no creature upon the earth with such potential for magic. Even the least of them may fly straight out of this world and come by chance to the Other Lands. Where does the wind come from that blows upon your face, that fans the pages of your book? Where the harum-scarum magic of small wild creatures meets the magic of Man, where the language of the wind and the rain and the trees can be understood, there we will find the Raven King.”</i></p><p>I could only ever give this book five stars, I’d give it more if I could. </p><p>Bravo Susanna Clarke! </p><p>This book has quite literally floored me. If anybody takes a single recommendation of mine remotely seriously, then take this one because this novel is incredible! </p><p></p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/27788046?shelf=5-star-reads">5-star-reads</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/27788046?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/27788046?shelf=magical-realism">magical-realism</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/416390-paul-bryant"></a></section><section><p>2,166 reviews9,118 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/163230229">July 17, 2012</a></section><div><p>If a novel of nearly 900 pages can be summarised in one phrase then Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell may, I think, be described as a stately, sly, witty, intricate, comic retelling of Dracula, with digressions and very little blood.<p> Count Dracula takes life from beautiful young ladies, enslaves them, enchants them, enraptures them, steals them away, into his own twilight (oops, sorry) vampire world – they become something other than what they were, undead, not alive yet not dead, creatures which do his bidding (the company I work for does something quite similar so it appears to be legal). In Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell, a fairy does exactly the same thing, but there's no blood involved, just a little magic. In Dracula it takes quite a while before the heroes realise what’s happening to their gorgeous young women (in both books the gorgeousness is emphasised, I do like that, you know, since they're imaginary why can't they be drop dead too? hmm, probably the wrong phrase). But compared with Mr Strange and Mr Norrell, the Dracula boys are quick on the uptake. Because we’re past page 600 before the penny drops in this one. </p><p>THE ARBITRARINESS OF MAGIC</p><p>One of my problems with this giant enfolding fog of a book is the nature of magic itself. In Dracula Van Helsing lays out the rules about vampires for the readers – they can do this but they can’t do that; sunlight, shape-shifting; silver; crosses; all of that. He later wrote the Observer Book of Vampires (Heinemann, 1911) and it's all in there. The rules are the rules. Many young leary vampires have been struck off for thinking that they were too cool for rules. </p><p>Governing committee : You were seen buying maximum factor sunblock in Superdrug three Saturdays in a row.</p><p>Young cool vampire : Yeah well, my girlfriend wants me to go camping with her family next week.</p><p>Governing committee : Under section 3 subsection 2 paragraph B I hereby strike you off the official list of vampires.</p><p>YCV : But but</p><p>GC : Beat it, kid, don't waste our time. This is a serious business. </p><p>But there are no rules for magic - at least, none discernable. The rule seems to be - sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Mr Strange goes to war to help the English fight Napoleon Boney. In Portugal he is able to create good roads where only mud tracks exist for the English Army to march down. Later he is able to make magical hands arise from the earth and entangle the French troops; but he doesn’t do any magic to prevent the English troops being massacred by cannonballs and artillery – what, no magical winds available to blow the cannonballs off course? But pardon, Mr Strange, elsewhere don’t you say that weather magic is the easiest sort to do? So whyever not? Well, we are not told. He never thinks of doing it, never thinks of alleviating the English troops’ suffering. Susanna Clark says in an interview that she wished to show that people’s romantic or over-optimistic notions of magic were to be disappointed by the unsatisfactoriness of her version of magic. I take that argument, it’s a good one, but it does not solve the difficulty of arbitrariness and the lack of any rules or boundaries.<br />When anything can happen, and then at some other point, for unknown reasons, the same thing can’t happen, the element of tension simply disappears in a cloud of smoke – poof! As if by magic.</p><p> BIPOLARITY</p><p>I thought that the villain in this novel was certainly suffering from undiagnosed bipolar disorder. Alas that the story took place in the 1810s, when mood stabilising medication had not yet been developed. If the gentleman with the thistledown hair had been prescribed Carbamazepine, Lamotrigine or Lithium I am quite sure the whole thing with the ladies would have never happened and the misunderstanding and antagonisms between him and the two magicians would never have arisen in the first place.</p><p> STYLE</p><p>It has been said this novel is like Dickens. It is not. Those who say that have not read Dickens. Do not believe them.<br />It is said that this novel is like Jane Austen. Okay, with your left eye closed and your right eye squinched up and tilting the novel at a slight angle, then yes, it is. But don’t say it too loudly or Jane Austen fans might beat you lightly with their lace doileys.</p><p>PACING</p><p>The good news : the story definitely picks up around page 650. That is the good news.</p><p>SHOULD YOU READ THIS BOOK?</p><p>For readers thinking about giving this one a go , you should know a few things. Half of this novel is quite a bit longer than most other novels, so unless you like slow, laborious build-ups (this is not the magical equivalent of Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill), intricate fake-scholarly footnotes recounting mad details about non-existent books, people, folk-tales, all pseudo-erudite tomfoolery calculated to flesh out the magical world whilst at the same time giving the reader many large winks along the lines “aren’t we having some scholarly fun? Isn’t this a thinking person’s hoot?”; unless you like many pages spent fretting about whether Mr Norrell will lend Mr Strange a particular book (this will-he won’t-he theme gets a little tiresome, so I’ll let you know – big plot spoiler - <i>he doesn’t</i> – now you can skip those bits); unless you like your reading to be languid, leisurely, luxurious, learned, leavened with loopy legerdemain and long, long, long, this may not be the one for you.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/416390?shelf=modernvictorian">modernvictorian</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/416390?shelf=novels">novels</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3978225-carol"></a></section><section><p>1,510 reviews7,616 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/275438788">December 2, 2014</a></section><div><p>In the beginning was a preface, and then an introduction, followed by some exposition, and then an opening. <p>Looking through the reviews, it appears many people either adore it or hate it. Frankly, I'm in neither camp, because I can't work up enough emotion to care. It took a long time to become interested, and I finally had to resort to a strategy of reading only a few chapters at a time, setting free any expectation that this was a book that would pull me in and never let me go. It became the perfect book to read before bed, a non-habit forming Ambien that avoided unpleasant dreams while lulling me into sleep. The language and structure of the tale is a formidable barrier to easy enjoyment; this is <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/2623.Great_Expectations">Great Expectations</a>, the original, uncut director's copy, thick enough in mass market paperback to soak with water and turn into a paper-mache brick. The final obstacle to delight is the general distastefulness of Mr. Norrell. This is improved somewhat when Jonathan Strange enters the tale, and for a while I was able to read without Mr. Sandman paying a visit.</p><p>I found much of the tale to be philosophizing about the character of England, and the distinctions between the north and the south tedious as they are somewhat non-accessible and lack relevance to the non-English. In some ways, I suspect the cultural conflict might resemble American regional conflicts, but it takes a talented author to make the conflict relevant across oceans and time. I understand Clarke is doing; I just lack interest in the subject matter, so the voice starts to sound a lot like the adults in Charlie Brown. <i> Muhua wa wa... </i></p><p>Unfortunately, the writing style and its take on various popular Victorian styles is monotonous for me. Although I enjoy the 19th century British mysteries, and Wodehousian humor, Clarke has neither the tightly woven mystery nor the snappy dialogue that keeps me interested in those forms. When it comes to writing style, I can see why some people would find her writing interesting, especially if they are fans of the time period; it just fails to resonate for me in the way it is presented. The footnotes are occasionally amusing as they frequently contain opinionated commentary. I read recently that Clarke wrote the story in "bundles" and ended up working at fitting them together. In retrospect, this might explain some of the jumps in plotting and setting, and account for the way plots were set down and then picked up a hundred pages later.</p><p>I was pleased to discover the magical or supernatural elements play a larger role than I expected from reading other reviews. One of the characters and plotlines I struggled with was that of the "white-haired gentleman." While it certainly brought magical elements to the story, I felt like he was a distraction and never fully woven into the plot. His obsession with Stephen, was particularly odd, and I never felt like I understood it's connection to Norrell and Strange.</p><p>Clarke does sprinkle gentle humor throughout the story that occasionally caused twitters or giggles. One of the first lines to make me laugh:</p><p>"He was so clean and healthy and pleased about everything that he positively shone--which is only to be expected in a fairy or an angel but is somewhat disconcerting in an attorney."</p><p>Cross posted at <a href="http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/01/01/jonathan-strange-mr-norrell-or-ambien-for-beginners/">http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/0...</a></p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/3978225?shelf=awards">awards</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/3978225?shelf=classic">classic</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/3978225?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> </ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5253785-lyn"></a></section><section><p>1,849 reviews16.4k followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1232539831">February 5, 2019</a></section><div><p>If a writer is going to publish a book this big (thousand plus pages) then it must be very good, or the readers will never know about the thousands plus pages beyond the heft as they toss it aside or by the thickness as it is put back on the shelf.<p>This book is that good.</p><p>Using language correct for the time period (Napoleonic Wards era, early 1800s) and richly complex characterizations reminiscent of Jane Austen or Charles Dickens, author Susanna Clarke has crafted a gem. It was the winner of and nominated for a host of awards like the Hugo, the Man Booker, Nebula, Locus, Guardian First Book, World Fantasy, Mythopoeic Fantasy, Book Sense and Cena Akademie SFFH. High accolades all and topped off with a gushing quote from none other than Neil Gaiman, who said: "Unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written in the last seventy years."</p><p>So what is all the fuss about?</p><p>Clarke has created an alternate history where magic is an excepted and realized fact of English history and life. In this reality, a magician king had ruled Northern England for centuries and then disappeared, and two unassuming and scholarly types go their own way in trying to restore magic to England.</p><p>To create a surprisingly seamless magical (pun intended) realism, Clarke employed the inclusion of or reference to the following: Francisco Goya, Frances Burney, William Beckford, Monk Lewis, Lord Byron, and Ann Radcliffe; publisher John Murray; politicians Lord Castlereagh and George Canning; the Duke of Wellington and the crazy as a Marsh Hare, King George III.</p><p>All that and an unnamed faerie king with issues.</p><p>I will admit here that I went to Wikipedia and searched for the Raven King and John Uskglass and felt like an idiot when I realized she had landed me hook, line and sinker.</p><p>A brilliant work and a must read for fans of the fantasy genre.</p><p></p></p></div><section><ul></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/2457095-apatt"></a></section><section><p>507 reviews757 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/208210972">May 28, 2016</a></section><div><p>Neil Gaiman said that this book is <a href="http://journal.neilgaiman.com/2004/08/lewis-and-clarke-not-to-mention-snuff.asp">"hard to overpraise"</a>, I will make an attempt thus:<p>While I was reading the second half of this book it occurred to me that I don't actually need to read any other novel ever again, I could just read this one book over and over again for the rest of my days and when the Grim Reaper calls I shall have this book clutched possessively in my stiff, unyielding fingers.</p><p>Momentary insanity of course, but it is indicative of the devotion I feel toward this book. With in the first page or two I was already feeling very friendly toward this book because of the prose. Ms. Clarke seems to be channelling Jane Austen by way of Oscar Wilde, P.G. Wodehouse, Hans Christian Andersen, with some dark sprinkles of Poe and Lovecraft. I grew increasingly fond of the book page by page until I was ready to put it on a pedestal and worship it by the time I reached in end. </p><p>The basic outline of the story is that it concerns the titular Jonathan and Mr. Norrell. Mr Norway brings magic back to England, takes on Mr. strange as his pupil, the two gentlemen later become rivals. Their interrelationship is the backbone of this long book that features wonderful characters, humour, sadness, heroism, redemption and magic, not to mention non-stop dancing and cameos by Napoleon Bonaparte Lord Byron and crazy King George III.</p><p>Normally when I read a long book of more than 700 pages in length I like to pause at about half way through, pick up a shorter book to read to the finish and go back to the long book. For me it helps to relieve the impatience from spending so much time with just one book. However, with this book* it is impossible, I could not extricate myself from it. I am a slowish reader and I spent about two weeks living and breathing this book and now that I have finish it I feel a little disoriented. Also, I tend to feel more comfortable reading SF than fantasy, the problem I personally have with a lot of fantasy is suspension of disbelief when magic manifests in some way. The pacing of this book is so perfect and the magic so skillfully and gradually woven into the story that I no problem throwing disbelief out the window and just settle down and immerse into this magical version of England.</p><p>Overpraise this book? Impossible!<br />_______________________<br />* I read the Kindle edition, the footnotes are hypertext links that jump to the back of the book (after the novel is ended), I had to ensure that I bookmark the page before I click on any footnote otherwise it would have been difficult to find my way back.</p><p><b>Footnotes(!)</b><br />• A footnote about the footnotes. I am tempted to knock off one star for the over abundance of footnotes, I am personally not keen on them as they interrupt the flow of the story for me. However, it would be ill-bred of me to use my own preferences as the standard for quality assessment. The fact is that lots of people like them and I think that justify their existence; not to mention that they are as beautifully written as the main body of the book. It is also worth mentioning that you can skip them entirely and still follow the story without missing a beat. I skimmed them and I intend to go back to read them all. Besides, this book deserves at least a billion stars rating and Goodreads can only cope with five, so if I did knock off one star nobody would notice.</p><p>• Have a look at Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell <a href="http://ravenkingfc.deviantart.com/gallery/">fan arts at Deviant Art</a>. A <a href="http://hurtfew.wikispaces.com/">wiki devoted to this book</a> is also available for in-depth info.<br />_______________________________</p><u>Update June 2015</u>:<br />• Neil Gaiman: <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/may/02/neil-gaiman-why-i-love-jonathan-strange-and-mr-norrell">Why I love Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell</a><p> • Susanna Clarke <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/may/02/susanna-clarke-characters-jonathan-strange-and-mr-norrell"> on the TV Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell: ‘My own characters were walking about!’</a></p><p>• I love the BBC adaptation. The <a href="http://www.avclub.com/tv/jonathan-strange-mr-norrell/">AV Club's reviews here</a>.</p><p>• <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susanna_Clarke">According to Wikipedia</a> Susanna Clarke is working on another book set in the Strange &amp; Norrell universe (so the word sequel may be inappropriate). Don't hold your breath waiting for it though because it took her ten years to write <i>Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell</i> by the time she publishes this second novel there may be flying cars and hoverboards on the street.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/2457095?shelf=fantasy-top20">fantasy-top20</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/2457095?shelf=top-20">top-20</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3672777-nataliya"></a></section><section><p>719 reviews11.4k followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/5073801816">November 26, 2022</a></section><div><p>I suppose whether you love this book or hate it will depend on how you feel about 19th century novels. In <i>Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell</i> Susanna Clarke decided to emulate the style, the pace and the vocabulary/orthography of that time in a way that would have made Charles Dickens proud. It’s a period piece with magic, I suppose.<p><b>But you see, I enjoy some 19th century novels *despite* them being such, not *because* of it. </b></p><blockquote>
 
</blockquote><p>Once I got past all the “chuse” (!), “shewed”(!!!) and “sopha” (!!!) iterations, I still had to try to process the glacial pace and meandering nature of the story — and although I’m very partial to meanderings of Stephen King, here I just wanted so badly to get to any kind of a point, hoping for an editor’s red pen to trim some of the vignettes and descriptions. The heavy reliance on period-appropriate tell-not-show, the distasteful and often dull characters that built up my irritation <i>(Norrell has a special place in boring hell)</i>, and the general slow monotony of the narrative — all that kept me at a distance, never allowing me to engage with the story. </p><p>If not for sheer stubbornness and terminal ability to DNF I would have not cared to keep picking it up. (Yup, I know, it’s a problem; shut up!)</p><p><b>It must be what getting stuck in a bog feel like. You can’t get out even if you’re not a fan of the experience.</b></p><blockquote>
 
</blockquote><p>Had the 500 pages of bloat been cut out of this kitten-squisher, it could have been pretty great. And yes, about <b>80% of those unnecessary footnotes would have to go</b>, too, since most of them were just extra filler (yeah, Clarke needed to learn from Pratchett on how to do it right). But despite all the room for bloat quite a few bits that would have made better sense to include were left on the cutting-room floor, apparently, leading to the jarring cuts among the bloat. </p><p>Not to say there weren’t moments of brilliance — Mr Strange going to war was witty and funny, and Stephen in the end was amazing — but these were few and far in between, and ultimately just not enough.</p><p>This book tired me out and left me cold.</p><p><b>2 stars</b> (sorry, Nastya, I tried). To see Clarke get to the point much faster, try <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/50202953.Piranesi">Piranesi</a>.</p><p>———————<br /><i>(I was undecided on the final rating for this one until I just watched “12 Angry Men” and saw how easily a story can be told simply and concisely, with zero bloat. And that cemented my feelings about this 1000-pages kitten-squisher.)</i></p><p>——————</p><p>Also posted on <a href="https://nataliyabookblog.wordpress.com/2022/11/19/jonathan-strange-mr-norrell-by-susanna-clarke/">my blog</a>.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/3672777?shelf=2022-reads">2022-reads</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/3672777?shelf=hugo-nebula-nominees-and-winners">hugo-nebula-nominees-and-winners</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/3672777?shelf=inspired-by-nastya">inspired-by-nastya</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/131922-mark-monday"></a></section><section><p>1,623 reviews4,967 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/16803649">March 14, 2016</a></section><div><p>the hero of this novel, Mr. Norrell, is in many ways a stranger in a strange land, uncomfortable with base emotions and disappointed with the shabbiness and inadequacies of others... yet always yearning for true companionship. a dignified, erudite, and refined gentleman; quietly soulful and elegantly restrained; commanding in his encyclopedic knowledge of the magical arts. <p>the other character, a fey and unreliable sort apparently named "Jonathan Strange", offers fleeting friendship that is quickly frittered away in tawdry misadventure, misplaced romance, and other assorted bits of ill-conceived and juvenile tomfoolery, often abroad, often with a host of questionable characters. even worse, Strange's nascent addictive personality rears its dark dark head, causing all sorts of trouble with various dire characters that were once thought lost in history. fortunately, Mr. Norrell is a stalwart and brave ally, and his careful guidance soon sets things in their natural order - no thanks to the whimsical and unreliable Strange.</p><p>***</p><p>an awesome book, one of my favorites. the comparisons with Austen &amp; Dickens have been made repeatedly; i agree. it almost seems silly to review this - it is like some kind of immense edifice, some giant piece of art, or something, that folks should just experience rather than read about. the pacing moves from snail-like and digressive to hallucinatory and lightning fast. the characters are wonderfully complicated. the magic is fascinating. the whole thing is smart and funny and melancholy and charming and just brilliant. plus the footnotes: fantastic! this is a huge novel but i wasn't bored for a second.</p><p>i hope this never becomes a movie.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/131922?shelf=alpha-team">alpha-team</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/131922?shelf=fog-and-gears">fog-and-gears</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/131922?shelf=secret-histories">secret-histories</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/1246837-maggie-stiefvater"></a></section><section><p>Author <i></i>64 books167k followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/24748745">June 18, 2008</a></section><div><p>This <a href="https://goodreads.com/book/show/2956.The_Adventures_of_Huckleberry_Finn">slow burn</a> historical fantasy (it really isn't a proper historical fantasy -- it's really told much more as a straight historical and the fantasy is bonus) is one of the best novels I've read -- ever. Clarke never breaks voice or changes her slow, relentless pacing. It's a novel meant to be savored over the course of a month, not rushed through -- so that you can properly appreciate the rush of the climax.<p>***wondering why all my reviews are five stars? Because I'm only reviewing my favorite books -- not every book I read. Consider a novel's presence on my Goodreads bookshelf as a hearty endorsement. I can't believe I just said "hearty." It sounds like a stew.****</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1246837?shelf=recommended">recommended</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/16254355-matthew"></a></section><section><p>1,219 reviews8,711 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1398518226">December 24, 2015</a></section><div><p>This book was a chore! While I liked the story, the writing style was not enjoyable at all for me. Also, I am not really sure why everything happened, what exactly happened, and why it took so many words and pages to tell this story.<p>It started at 5 stars and, as I trudged through the book, there was a slow leak of stars as my interest started to wane. That leak stopped at 2 stars.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/16254355?shelf=2015">2015</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/16254355?shelf=at-home-reading">at-home-reading</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/16254355?shelf=completist-book-club">completist-book-club</a> </ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/10171516-jessica"></a></section><section><p>2,494 reviews30.2k followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2407871167">September 7, 2022</a></section><div><p>oof. okay. this just wasnt for me. its no doubt a feat of a book with evident effort and meticulous detail, but its just not something i really enjoyed reading. <p>i personally struggle with 19th century literature so, with this being a pastiche of that time periods writing style, themes, and literary devices, i never fully got into this. i think the concept is interesting, so had the narrative been written in a more modern style, my feelings would probably be totally different. </p><p>so objectively well-written, but just not my cup of tea. the illustrations were cute, though!</p><p><b>↠ <i>2.5 stars</i></b></p></p></div><section><ul></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/63168028-peter-on-semi-hiatus-and-trying-to-catch-up"></a></section><section><p>473 reviews2,513 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1855091485">January 22, 2022</a></section><div><p><b>Lifeless</b><br />After finishing, <i>Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell</i>, the overwhelming feeling was a sense of relief and then puzzlement that I committed so much time to read this. I found the book a great disappointment on various levels, and for once, I have to say that the TV production was so much better than the novel.<p>The characters were generally uninteresting, including the two main protagonists. The story's timing occurred when magic again surfaced in England, and magicians were unsure of their power. Mr Norell is an academic rather drab character intent on learning his craft from books and manuscripts. His arrogance wants him to be considered England's only legitimate magician. Jonathan Strange is more a practical magician and lends a hand in fighting Napolean. His magic seems almost whimsical, and the English soldiers still die in huge numbers. The plot is so weak that the involvement with the Napoleonic Wars didn't generate much interest. It was all very flat. What can be said is that the detail of the surroundings and story are considerable - even with footnotes to describe minutiae. The setting was okay, and I did feel that the atmosphere of early 19th century England came through well.</p><p>I am surprised this book received its praises, and I can only assume that the story's context was a big draw. We all want to believe that magic exists and that somewhere a magician is just waiting to develop the skills handed down from Merlin. If that was to happen, I can only hope that it's NOT to someone like Strange or Norrell and that there would be a superb plot of twists and surprises, with captivating characters to bring it all to life.</p><p>I might have been tempted to consider a higher rating if it had not been so long. The length is a problem in a story that drifts at such a slow pace, with details I couldn't care less about. If stories can affect the heart rate from high intensity to resting, then this will set the heart rate to coma.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/63168028?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/63168028?shelf=literary-fiction">literary-fiction</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5431458-henry-avila"></a></section><section><p>448 reviews3,222 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1590535352">November 16, 2019</a></section><div><p>In the early part of the nineteenth -century there arose in northern England ( well one by the border of Wales) two powerful magicians, old bookworm Gilbert Norrell of Hurtfew Abbey, always reading in his immense dark library, obscure ancient dusty books on the subject that he cares only about, magic and young tall Jonathan Strange, who inherited like his future short friend, tutor and rival Mr. Norrell, (not interested then, in wizardry) a vast amount of property and money. Around the city of York magic flourished, both resided in small villages many miles from the unknown other, Mr. Strange is quite different from the mysterious recluse Gilbert, no books of the supernatural, soon to be married likes to get out of his house, (Ashfair) mingle with people, have fun and live...In the Fall (Autumn) of 1806, a society of magicians in York met every week in a rundown inn and discussing, ( sometimes tempers flare) what else magic, that they were amateurs and couldn't do any spells didn't matter, passion was the only importance . Sending letters to the private Mr.Norrell after discovering he was the true article, a practicing, accomplished man in the fine art of conjuring, asking him to appear at their next meeting he declines, they write back a disrespectful note; a contract is drawn up, the angry magician does show his skill in the city's Cathedral, only his servant John Childermass is present, the frightened society of not able men see stones move, they quickly disband as the agreement stated... The bored Mr.Strange doesn't know what should be his profession, his would be fiancee Arabella, is anxious to know before consenting to marry him, nothing interest the rich man except an unusual, vague liking of magic... and the weird thing is he's good at it. Newspaper stories about this incident at the church makes Mr.Norrell famous in London, he travels there yet it takes many parties and gatherings to reach his goal, he has a few friends to tell him what is required , time passes by, finally meeting influential government officials, after bringing back a dead woman to life, he can be useful to the authorities in fighting Napoleon...making phantom ships that scare the French. Naturally Jonathan Strange wants to talk to the great Mr.Norrell, visits him in the capital and impressed by his abilities, the famous enchanter makes Jonathan his pupil, but of course they get on each others nerves. And still an almighty odd, evil spirit a faerie, much more fearsome than either of the magicians, lurks about bringing death and destruction everywhere. ..The government takes the young man to Portugal to help the Duke of Wellington, (at first not taken seriously, by the unruffled general ) fight the French invaders, crisscrossing that nation and Spain also, fixing roads confusing the enemy changing the course of rivers, the bloody battles go on year after bloody year, he Mr.Strange becomes immune to the carnage...This fantasy an alternative history of Britain, is a wonderful fable for anyone interested in magic, makes it seem that it really exist nevertheless, will entertain and bring pure joy to those people the grateful readers, that want to be intrigued.</p></div><section><ul></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/1526851-will-byrnes"></a></section><section><p>1,287 reviews120k followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/36476483">June 5, 2016</a></section><div><p>After a hiatus of several centuries since it was actively practiced, magic is back in early 19th century England. Clarke has created an alternate, magical history, in which England had once been divided between north and south, and a temporal and a fairy kingdom. Stuffy intellectuals satisfy themselves with studying the writings of the past, forming debating societies. But in 1807 a person emerges who dares to actually practice magic. <p><br /><b> Eddie Marsden as Mr Norrell</b> - from AMC networks</p><p>Mr Norrell is an arrogant fellow, convinced not only that he is the only decent practical magician in England, but that it would be best if he were the only one allowed to practice at all. He proceeds to play politics to sustain, increase and legitimize his monopoly. The emergence of a second practical magician presents a challenge, solved in the short term by taking on Jonathan Strange as a student. </p><p><br /><b>Bertie Carvel as Jonathan Strange</b></p><p>Both magicians want to use their talent for the good of their country, and perform amusing and not so amusing spells on the French enemy. Ultimately they are faced with the growing emergence of a real, powerful, underlying magical realm. It intrudes on their lives and forces them to confront darkness while trying to master the unsuspected reality. </p><p><br /><b> Marc Warren as “The Gentleman”</b></p><p>The book has a wonderful pretext, and the tale is told in a straight style, with more than a few touches of humor. It offers a look at how the new use the machinery of government to create a sinecure, how a need to impress can lead to corruption. It is fun to read, but does take quite a long time, and has sections in which it drags. It should probably have been shorter by a hundred or two hundred pages. </p><p><br /><b>Susanna Clarke</b> - from Minnesota public radio</p><p>Meanderings are many. In short, or long, it was enjoyable, and is recommended but not to the highest degree. Several award committees disagreed, holding it in significantly higher esteem. <i>JS&amp;MN</i> was not only long-listed for the Man Booker Prize, it was short-listed for several other awards and won, among others, the World Fantasy award for best novel, the British Book Award for best newcomer of the Year, and the Hugo Award. </p><p>The TV adaptation was shown beginning (in the USA anyway) in June 2015</p><p>Review posted – 10/29/2008<br />Updated and Reposted - 6/19/15</p><p>Publication date – 9/30/2004</p><p>=============================<b>EXTRA STUFF</b></p><p>I found no personal site for Clarke, nor, FB nor Twitter. Bloomsbury has put up a <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jonathanstrangeandmrnorrellofficialpage">Facebook page</a> for the book</p><p>A particularly <a href="http://hurtfew.wikispaces.com/The+Library+at+Hurtfew">nifty site</a> organizes people, places, et al, from the book. If you get heavily into the book, this is a must-have resource</p><p>A nice, soft article on the <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/may/02/susanna-clarke-characters-jonathan-strange-and-mr-norrell">author visiting the production set </a></p><p>A 2004 <a href="https://www.sfsite.com/02a/su193.htm"> interview with Clarke </a> on the SF site</p><p>A 2005 interview on <a href="http://www.bookslut.com/features/2005_09_006537.php">Bookslut</a></p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/1526851?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/4213258-bradley"></a></section><section><p>Author <i></i>5 books3,886 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/570483274">November 12, 2018</a></section><div><p>Re-read, 11/11/18:<p>The only real review for this book is one that fully experiences it from the inside. In other words, take the roads, listen to the rocks, and above all, DON'T TRUST THE FARIES.</p><p>This was a classic when I first read it and it's just as good on any re-read. That's why I put this in my top-100 list. :) It will stand the test of time.</p><p>Let's fight with Wellington and defeat Napoleon with magic! Let's get into major trouble, get majorly paranoid, and do it with arrogance and style!</p><p>Above all, this is a buddy novel that starts really rocky, continues worse, ends in mistrust, and yet, is quintessentially English. In other words, polite and often uplifting. :)</p><p>Brilliant book. I think it will always be. :)</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/4213258?shelf=2018-shelf">2018-shelf</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/4213258?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/4213258?shelf=top-one-hundred">top-one-hundred</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/8190907-katie-lumsden"></a></section><section><p>Author <i></i>1 book2,628 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/1616480497">September 25, 2021</a></section><div><p>I loved this. It's rich, wonderful and clever, with fascinating characterisation, world-building and brilliant themes. What a book.</p></div><section><ul></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/279256-diane"></a></section><section><p>1,080 reviews2,617 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/476649546">December 19, 2015</a></section><div><p>I finally finished! My paperback was more than 1,000 pages long, so this is a triumph. <p><i>Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr. Norrell</i> is a book that I started out loving, but the middle part dragged so much that I grew impatient for the story to end. I feel so differently about the two halves of the book that I wish I could issue two Goodreads ratings.</p><p>Let's start with what I liked about this novel. Susanna Clarke has a great imagination and a good sense of humor. The story is set in the early 1800s in England and follows the adventures of two magicians, Mr. Strange and Mr. Norrell. They have different opinions about magic, and while they start out as collaborators, they later become enemies. At different times, both magicians are enlisted to help the British Army and Navy in the Napoleonic Wars. (The extensive battle scenes are what started to drag down the book.) The story also involves a spiteful fairy, who likes to steal people away to his kingdom. The story builds until there is a fateful showdown between the mean fairy and the magicians. There's a lot else going on, but to try and summarize it all would drive me mad.</p><p>Parts of this book were charming and amusing, and I sometimes smiled while reading, more so in the first half. Clarke's wit has been compared to Jane Austen's, but let's not get carried away, people. I'll grant that it's amusing, and Clarke captured some foibles of human nature. But this wouldn't make my list of things I regularly recommend to fans of Miss Austen.</p><p>My complaints about the book revolve mostly around its epic, meandering story, which did not have to be 1,000 pages. This book was desperately in need of a tougher editor. Clarke also included lots of footnotes, most of which were too clever by half. I listened to this on audio, and the footnotes were read at the indicated place in the text, but if I had just read the print book I would have quickly grown irritated and skimmed all of them. </p><p>My other frustration with this book was how dim-witted Strange and Norrell were. They were ridiculously slow to catch on to what the evil fairy was doing, despite the fact that they were supposed to be clever, powerful magicians. It seemed like the author was dragging out their ignorance in order to lengthen the story, which really didn't need any lengthening.</p><p>While I do have complaints about this book, I did enjoy a good part of it. These epic novels are so difficult to rate. I think I'll give the first half a 4 and the last half a 3. I'll be generous and rate this a 3.5 rounded up to 4. </p><p>Recommended, with caution, to those who like magical stories and British humor.</p><p><b>Favorite Quotes</b><br />"Can a magician kill a man by magic?" Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. "I suppose a magician might," he admitted, "but a gentleman never would."</p><p>"Well, I suppose one ought not to employ a magician and then complain that he does not behave like other people." </p><p>"I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment."</p><p>"Houses, like people, are apt to become rather eccentric if left too much on their own; this house was the architectural equivalent of an old gentleman in a worn dressing-gown and torn slippers, who got up and went to bed at odd times of day, and who kept up a continual conversation with friends no one else could see."</p><p>"Oh! And they read English novels! David! Did you ever look into an English novel? Well, do not trouble yourself. It is nothing but a lot of nonsense about girls with fanciful names getting married." </p><p>"The argument he was conducting with his neighbor as to whether the English magician had gone mad because he was a magician, or because he was English."</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/279256?shelf=audiobooks">audiobooks</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/279256?shelf=british-charm">british-charm</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/279256?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/43377498-hannah-greendale"></a></section><section><p>693 reviews3,246 followers</p></section></div><section><section><p><b>Shelved as 'dnf'</b></p><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/2436399236">October 8, 2018</a></section><div><p>Nope, nope, nope. DNF at 68%. The act of reading has become a chore, a sensation that cannot be condoned or perpetuated.<p>It's been six hundred and eighty pages, and this book has yet to enthrall or surprise. The character motives baffle, the fantasy elements are uneven, the tone is dry and the story uneventful. Writing a tome of this magnitude is no small feat, but it's achieved to greater effect by Jonathan Stroud in his marvelous book, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/334123.The_Amulet_of_Samarkand?from_search=true">The Amulet of Samarkand</a>, which I would leap to recommend while warning bookworms to steer clear of this cumbersome book.</p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/43377498?shelf=booker-prize-nominee">booker-prize-nominee</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/43377498?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/43377498?shelf=fiction">fiction</a> </ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/5859453-arah-lynda"></a></section><section><p>337 reviews520 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/240169754">October 21, 2016</a></section><div><p><b>Tired of your workaday lives,<p>Need to get away for a while?</p><p>Come, sit a spell</p><p>Let Susanna tell you a story.</p></b><p>We go to England in the 1800’s, a time of the Napoleonic Wars, a time when most people believe magic to be dead in England. Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr. Norrell are two magicians attempting, each in their own way, to change that and restore magic to England. </p><p>I can admit that it took me a while to find my legs here, acquire my own rhythm with the writing and the story. In many ways this reads like a history lesson... The entire aspect and nature of magic and its history are all carefully and explicitly laid out, fully annotated with historical references that appear as footnotes (which while bitter at first, soon became delicious little bits that nourished and enriched). I came to crave them. Lord Byron and the Duke of Wellington, both, put in an appearance here, casually lending their historical pertinence, as England’s Prime Minister and his cabinet employ the magicians to assist in the battle against Napoleon. </p><p> Susanna so deftly describes the two main protagonists, the magicians, so intricately, as to impart an intimate understanding of each of them. As opposite in character as they are in appearance Strange &amp; Norrell command this stage, but along the way they share the spotlight, with a whole cast of others, people, that step right off the page:</p><p><i>The man extracted himself from the hedge. This was no easy task because various parts of it – hawthorn twigs, elder branches, strands of ivy, mistletoe and witches broom – had insinuated themselves among his clothes, limbs and hair during the night or glued themselves to him with ice. He sat up. He did not seem in the least surprised to find he had an audience; one would almost have supposed from his behaviour that he had been expecting it. He looked at them all and gave several disparaging sniffs and snorts.</i></p><p><i> He ran his fingers through his hair, removing dead leaves, bits of twig and half a dozen earwigs. “I reached out my hand” he muttered, to no-one in particular. “England’s rivers turned and flowed the other way.” He loosened his neckcloth and fished out some spiders which had taken up residence inside his shirt. In doing so, he revealed that his neck and throat were ornamented with an odd pattern of blue lines, dots, crosses and circles. Then he wrapped his neckcloth back about his neck and, having thus completed his toilet to his satisfaction, he rose to his feet.</i></p><p><i> “My name is Vinculus”, he declared.</i></p><p>What I loved most, as I listened to Susanna’s story was that it took me away, where a slow and curious sort of calm came over me. A kind of a hush, seemingly impenetrable, descended about me. A strange sense of quiet fell, like one might find in the wee hours of the morning. I relaxed, shook off the shackles of day to day and settled in, wholly immersed now and in no particular hurry, on this long, long journey. I stretched out my legs, met the man with the thistle-down hair and considered the colour of a heartache. I visited ballrooms and battlefields, travelled faerie roads, and searched for the Raven King. I watched the birds as they came to my feeder and fell away, to lost-hope house and all the mirrors of the world, utterly enchanted, and I believed.</p><p><i>It was as if a door had opened somewhere. Or possibly a series of doors. There was a sensation as of a breeze blowing into the house and bringing with it the half- remembered scents of childhood. There was a shift in the light which seemed to cause all the shadows in the room to fall differently. There was nothing more definite than that, and yet, as often happens when some magic is occurring, both Drawlight and the lady had the strongest impression that nothing in the visible world could be relied upon any more. It was as if one might put out one’s hand to touch any thing in the room and discover it was no longer there. </i></p><p><i>A tall mirror hung upon the wall above the sopha where the lady sat. It shewed a second great white moon in a second tall dark window and a second dim-mirror room. But Drawlight and the lady did not appear in the mirror room at all. Instead there was a kind of an indistinctness, which became a sort of shadow, which became the dark shape of someone coming towards them. From the path which this person took, it could clearly be seen that the mirror room was not like the original at all and that it was only by odd tricks of lighting and perspective – such as one might meet with in the theatre- that they appeared to be the same. It seemed that the mirror room was actually a long corridor.<br />The hair and coat of the mysterious figure were stirred by a wind which could not be felt in their own room and though he walked briskly towards the glass which separated the two rooms, it was taking him some time to reach it. But finally he reached the glass and then there was a moment when his dark shape loomed very large behind it and his face was still in shadow.</i></p><p>Susanna Clarke tells a story that spills over with wonder.</p><p>This one is coming to the island with me. </p></p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5859453?shelf=i-said">i-said</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5859453?shelf=lod">lod</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/5859453?shelf=to-the-island">to-the-island</a> </ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/12618229-jeff"></a></section><section><p>912 reviews678 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/616960470">October 17, 2018</a></section><div><p><p>Imagine Charles Dickens figuring out how to master the time/space continuum, managing to make his way into our present, and <i>briefly</i> discussing his masterwork, Hard Times, with J. K. Rowling. The result being this huge-assed, yet entertaining tome on British magic. Way to go, Boz and thanks!!</p><p><i>Is this for real, Jeff?</i></p><p>Not really random Goodreader. I had too much coffee this morning and my mind is racing like a sports car driven by Danica Patrick.</p><p>This book does kind of hit several literary sweet spots with me: Historical Fiction (waves to the Duke of Wellington and that walking horn ball poet, Lord Byron), Fantasy and a terrific sense of humor on the part of Susanna Clarke.</p><p>The skinny: After centuries, English magic - long dormant - is being revived by a peevish asshat named Mr. Norrell. He wants to be THE one and only English magician and will spare nothing to block any one else interested in pulling rabbits from hats or doing card tricks. He reluctantly takes on a pupil, Jonathon Strange. Their magic helps kick Napoleon’s ass. There’s an evil, creepy faerie – kind of like a lethal obsessive powdered wig wearing Loki. He has his own agenda.</p><p></p><p>And the great and powerful Raven King. Always the Raven King.</p><p>Sounds great and it was for the most part, except:</p><p>This starts off rather slowly – like a rollercoaster that takes its sweet-assed time getting up the first ascent – hanging on Clarke’s wit to keep the plot moving along. After the first descent and some frequent lunch losing swervings and such, the book takes off.</p><p></p><p>As a lazy reader, I always welcome any sort of illustrations in books – especially 1000 page books - because I can jump ahead a few pages and feel a sense of accomplishment. However, the art here was of the murky – just – what – heck – is – that variety. Hey, I read graphic novels and know a thing or two about art. <br />Where the hell were the Brothers Hildebrandt?</p><p>F**king footnotes!!!</p><p></p><p>As a concept, I can understand why Clarke footnoted the crap out of this book (quoting fake magic texts to give her book verisimilitude and suck the reader into the imaginary world), but if there’s ever a literary device that can grind any reading momentum to a halt, its half-page footnotes. A bunch of ‘em.</p><p>My advice: skip over them.</p><p>I hated typing in foot notes when I did school papers and I wish a pox on the family of the dude who invented the footnote.</p><p>Still, the book has tons to recommend for the right reader – the ending is the cat’s pajamas – the characters are beautifully fleshed out - just stay with it after the spotty beginning.</p></p></div><section><ul></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/32879029-emma"></a></section><section><p>1,802 reviews44.1k followers</p></section></div><section><section><p><b>Want to read</b></p><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/3942481175">April 13, 2021</a></section><div><p>to anyone who calls me cynical or pessimistic: what could be more hopeful than adding super long books to my tbr when i'm probably never going to read them?</p></div><section><ul><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/32879029?shelf=fantasy">fantasy</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/32879029?shelf=historical">historical</a> <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/32879029?shelf=non-ya">non-ya</a></ul></section><hr /></section></article></div><div><article><div><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3977017-julio-genao"></a></section><section><p>Author <i></i>9 books1,977 followers</p></section></div><section><section><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/498298188">December 22, 2015</a></section><div><p><b>and the kitchen sink.</b><p> </p><p>simultaneously contemptuous and admiring of georgian culture and society, and possessed of many, many insights into the black heart of humankind, this book left me in a state of despair shot through with occasional palpitations of humor and excitement.</p><p>on the whole, a vastly self-indulgent work—and as impressed with itself as we're meant to be.</p><p>the footnotes, see... i love footnotes. but unlike, say, <i>infinite jest,</i> whose footnotes were by and large interesting and germane, these were most often completely useless and not at all worth the trouble of navigating to and fro within the ebook... when the links were working properly at all, of course.</p><p>i get the sense that i was meant to enjoy, as goodreads reviewer paul bryant said, the fake scholarship of our omniscient narrator referring to books that d0 not exist, because that's wildly entertaining, i guess?</p><p>and yet the writing here is, i felt, very good.</p><p>it's just that the <i>story</i>—it wandered. </p><p>to and fro, round england and onto the continent (three times), and then back again, somewhat aimlessly, as if by the vagaries of chance.</p><p>it's a pantser's novel, i concluded halfway through; reading interviews with the author confirmed my suspicion: she'd just sorta begun and went wherever the hell her story took her.</p><p>which.</p><p>you know.</p><p>at nearly 900 pages, with those bloody footnotes—well.</p><p>it took her a hell of a lot of places, i can tell you.</p><p>so i'm unhappy about the superficial structure of the thing; the indulgence of all the unnecessary foolishness and dead-end mini-stories in it; the sense that the hand at the tiller had no idea where this was all going and let's just all find out together, shall we?</p><p>but.</p><p>also.</p><p>really good, really sharp observations on how people work, and what motivates them, and how they fuck themselves up.</p><p>it's just that... it's really grim, too. bcuz humans are grim as fuck.</p><p>so!</p><p>where does that leave me and my review?</p><p>i dunno. it is technically proficient, yet horribly excessive; it is beautifully rendered, but quite mercilessly features the brutal ugliness of the human spirit; it's terribly engaging, yet lasts for ever and ever and ends kinda abruptly.</p><p>with footnotes, naturally.</p><p>if two stars equals 'it was okay,' three equals 'i liked it,' and four equals 'i loved it,' how in the fuck many stars do you give a book you variously liked, loved, and thought was just okay?</p><p>let's find out together.</p></p></div><section><ul></ul></section></section></article></div></div>||||I|||| * Home
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 Strange & Norrell #1

 Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

 Susanna Clarke

 3.85
 225,390 ratings 17,007 reviews
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 The year is 1806. England is beleaguered by the long war with Napoleon, and centuries have passed since practical magicians faded into the nation's past. But scholars of this glorious history discover that one remains: the reclusive Mr Norrell, whose displays of magic send a thrill through the country.

 Proceeding to London, he raises a beautiful woman from the dead and summons an army of ghostly ships to terrify the French. Yet the cautious, fussy Norrell is challenged by the emergence of another magician: the brilliant novice Jonathan Strange.

 Young, handsome and daring, Strange is the very antithesis of Norrel. So begins a dangerous battle between these two great men which overwhelms that between England and France. And their own obsessions and secret dabblings with the dark arts are going to cause more trouble than they can imagine.
 Genres Fantasy Fiction Historical Fiction Historical Magic Science Fiction Fantasy Alternate History
 ...more

 1006 pages, Paperback

 First published January 1, 2004

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 About the author

 Susanna Clarke

 34 books 7,941 followers
 Susanna Clarke was born in Nottingham in 1959. A nomadic childhood was spent in towns in Northern England and Scotland. She was educated at St Hilda's College, Oxford, and has worked in various areas of non-fiction publishing, including Gordon Fraser and Quarto. In 1990, she left London and went to Turin to teach English to stressed-out executives of the Fiat motor company. The following year she taught English in Bilbao.

 She returned to England in 1992 and spent the rest of that year in County Durham, in a house that looked out over the North Sea. There she began working on her first novel, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell.

 From 1993 to 2003, Susanna Clarke was an editor at Simon and Schuster's Cambridge office, where she worked on their cookery list. She has published seven short stories and novellas in US anthologies. One, "The Duke of Wellington Misplaces His Horse," first appeared in a limited-edition, illustrated chapbook from Green Man Press. Another, "Mr Simonelli or The Fairy Widower," was shortlisted for a World Fantasy Award in 2001.

 She lives in Cambridge with her partner, the novelist and reviewer Colin Greenland.

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 3.85
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 J.G. Keely
 546 reviews 9,510 followers
 September 1, 2015
 Sigh, just what we need, another revolutionary, unusual fantasy book by an author with a practiced mastery of tone. When will authors like Clarke realize that what the fantasy genre needs are more pseudo-medieval monomyths that sprawl out into fifteen volumes?

 Her magic didn't conveniently solve all of the characters' problems, instead, they wasted time thinking through conflicts and then had to solve them by taking action; how dull is that? The magic was weird, anyways. It didn't have a simplistic, internal system to allow it to act as a one-for-one substitute with technology, it was just all unpredictable and otherworldly and unknowable--how can you even call that 'magic'?

 And the characters were overly-complicated. Instead of acting as recognizable archetypes, they were complex, conflicted, and developed as the story progressed. For some reason, they also seemed hesitant to fall back on the default plan of attacking anything that gets in their way, which was probably why this book was so long. I guess they just didn't have a strong enough sense of honor to instantly kill anyone who opposed them.

 And then, instead of having her characters laboriously explain how the world worked to each other, she made brief mentions in footnotes, as if she were writing a history. I'm not sure why she made this decision, I often explain to my friends in basic terms how cars and money work in our culture, so it's clear that endless expositionary dialogue is the most realistic way to inform the reader. I mean, I guess you could just have the omniscient narrator tell us everything in detail, that's almost as good.

 Come to think of it, this book had a lot of history stuff, it was almost like she had read a whole bunch about the period her book was set in, which is such a waste of time, because if that's what I wanted, I'd just read a history book. I mean sure, the author could take some vague things from a period, but otherwise they should just treat everything as if it were the modern day so it'll make sense. Besides, if she had any errors, she could just remind us that 'it's fiction!', so it's all fake anyways and it's pointless to try to make it seem real.

 I guess she thought she was Jane Austen, or something, gradually building a tonal portrait of the world and revealing the characters through details of action and conversation. I don't know why she would try to write like those boring, old, dead authors, they wouldn't have to make us read them in school if they were good.

 I should have known it was going to be bad when I saw it had footnotes in it, like a textbook or something, but I tried not to read any of them because I didn't want to accidentally learn some stupid fact (and then be STUCK with it FOREVER), because I'm saving up that brain space to memorize the lineage of the ninth house of the Dragonpriests of Ur, or maybe which incantation can counterspell the splash damage effect of a lesser draconic fireball.

 So the whole book, I kept waiting for one of the women to be raped (or at the very least threatened with rape), or maybe enslaved , or for someone to be put in a collar and tortured by a woman in leather, or to be spanked in public as part of some cultural ritual, or to walk through flames while spraying breastmilk everywhere , or some other perfectly normal expression of human sexuality, but don't bother waiting, you'll only be disappointed. Really, the only thing that could have made it worse is if it were illustrated by Charles Vess, like the equally hopeless sequel .

 So yeah, basically this book is WAY TOO LONG! I mean, it was totally worth it for me to read the first five twelve-hundred-page books of the Dragonkingspell Cycle (it starts to get good at book six), but that's nothing compared to how much it tried my patience to read this book. I probably wouldn't have been able to finish it if I didn't need something to read while waiting twelve years for Jeb R.R.R. Franzibald to finish book seven.

 But I guess if you like a well-researched, historically accurate book that doesn't tell the same, familiar story, doesn't use magic as a plot facilitator, reads like a Gothic novel, slowly builds the story based on psychologically-developed characters, and is obsessed with tone, then this is the book for you! Congratulations.

 Otherwise, you can sit around with me and hope the author of our favorite series doesn't die before finishing vol. XVIII of The Epic Magic Sword of the Undead Dragon Throne Saga Duovigintilogy , where we will finally discover whether the badass, outcast, swordmaster, dragonrider assassin prince defeats the great evil, once and for all (with the help of his trusty albino wolf/girlfriend, of course).

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 Kelly
 878 reviews 3,958 followers
 June 20, 2007
 Without a doubt the best book I have read this year. I write that without hesitation and with a beaming smile on my face. Incredible. Enthralling. Amazing. The book was over 800 pages long and it did not seem long enough. When I finished the book, I immediately turned out the light and tried to drift off to sleep, because I knew nothing else I did that night was going to top the feeling I got after blowing through the last 100 pages like a madwoman. I want to start it over again, immediately.

 The book is like reading Dickens, with the dialogue of Jane Austen, and the best writing of every classic fantasy I've read. All at once. Clarke manages to pay her homage while being entirely original herself. And the pages just keep turning and turning. You almost don't notice as 200 pages go by in less than two hours. This is a book to devour. Again, and again, and again. For those who have never been interested in the fantasy genre before, do not be put off. It's not even about the fantasy, though of course it is a major presence and the plot focuses around it. History geeks: There are three delightful, hilarious appearances by Wellington, George III and Lord Byron, as well as various Cabinet ministers of the time period.

 The prose is wonderful, dead-on. Clarke has the ability to shift seamlessly from witty, sarcastic, detached prose and dialogue in the style of Jane Austen or Oscar Wilde:

 "These ladies and gentlemen, visitors to the city of Venice, were excessively pleased with the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. They thought the facades of the houses very magnificent- they could not praise them highly enough. But the sad decay which buildings, bridges and church all displayed seemed to charm them even more. They were Englishmen and, to them, the decline of other nations was the most natural thing in the world. They belonged to a race so blessed with so sensitive an appreciation of its own talents (and so doubtful an opinion of any body else's) that they would not have been at all surprised to learn that the Venetians themselves had been entirely ignorant of the merits of their own city- until Englishmen had come to tell them it was delightful."

 ... and then shift into lines that would do any fantasy author proud: "Spring returned to England. Birds followed ploughs. Stones were warmed by the sun. Rains and winds grew softer, and were fragranced by the scents of the earth and growing things. Woods were tinged with a colour so soft, so subtle that it could scarcely be said to be a colour at all. It was more the /idea/ of a colour- as if the trees were dreaming green dreams or thinking green thoughts."

 Those quotes don't do it justice, they were just ones my eyes came across when I randomly opened pages. The writing is just beyond fantastic, to say the least.

 That, on top of an intriguing, well developed, /incredibly/ well researched portrait of England at the time of the Napoleonic wars? It manages to cover all the major areas that British literature is known for, all at once, in one book, and do them all justice. Clarke is also able to touch on a lot of serious issues that were present in England at the time: (racial relations, the problems of a hereditary ruling class..) She makes you aware of them as a background, but doesn't push them in your face. It's just another way she's able to make her evocation of the time period that much more perfect.

 ... I should perhaps have written this review with a greater distance from finishing the novel. But I think I'm justified in doing it now, if only to give an idea of the kind of amazing feeling that the book gives you from reading it and finishing it.

 Books like this are why I love literature.

 Read it. End of story.

 (... finally.)
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 Jayson
 1,563 reviews 3,242 followers
 January 20, 2023
 (B+) 77% | Good
 Notes: Very slow paced and the ending doesn't justify its length, but characters are strong and it shows flashes of brilliance.
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 Regan
 366 reviews 108k followers
 January 24, 2020
 3.5

 I FINALLY FINISHED
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 Eric
 65 reviews 75 followers
 July 14, 2007
 I so wanted to like this book. The idea is just wonderful. I was so pleased for a while to be in that world, a historical England. I love the dialogue and descriptions. And I love the idea of magic in an otherwise real setting, as though it were a normal part of our actual world. But it was so frustrating to read after a while. The footnotes, auuuugh, the footnotes. They were cute at first, because the book is written sort of like a history book from that period. But after a while they were just so long and so unrelated to the main story that they became seriously cumbersome. And just when the story would be getting involved, she'd fast forward 2 years or 10 years and the last part of the story, though unresolved, would be pretty much forgotten. Boooo!

 The end was annoying, or rather the way the main characters reacted to it. It's fiction, it's fantasy, but when you're writing about basic human beings who have otherwise behaved consistently throughout the book, and then they react to something in a way you know isn't consistent and isn't how people would act, it pops the bubble of your suspended disbelief and sort of ruins the story. Another annoying thing is that we keep waiting to learn more about why Mr. Norrell acts the way he does, but we never do learn. He's just a pill and that's it. That's poor writing, No motivations for him, no insight into his character. So really he just serves a function in the book that could have been served by an inanimate object.

 Overall the book is just filled with too many things that seem to have no point. It's not that they aren't interesting by themselves or couldn't have been made into something wonderful, it's just that they are tossed out there randomly and not connected to anything. In that way, the cold, dispassionate history book style disappoints, because what we really want is a story. We want to care about the characters and see resolution of some kind. Booo!

 There will apparently be more books set in this world, but I won't be reading them. It's just too much of a time investment in a seemingly great idea that doesn't pay off.
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 Tiza
 8 reviews 52 followers
 August 31, 2015
 Although Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell turns out to be a book I dearly love, I'm afraid I can't recommend it to just anyone. Whether you'll like it or not will truly depend on what you expect it to be. If you wish for a fast-paced excitement then this book is probably not for you. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell is a blend of meticulously researched historical fiction and imaginative fantasy, sprinkled here and there with biting social comedy, and written in a style similar to Austen's, which is, of course, relevant to the age in which the story takes place, the early years of 19th century England. The plot mainly focuses in the revival of magic in England, an art that has been long fallen into disuse but still theoretically studied by many. Among these people two gentlemen who actually practise the art come into the spotlight: the tedious, reclusive Gilbert Norrell and his pupil Jonathan Strange. The story further unfurls with the appearance of a certain silver-haired fairy, Norrell's and Strange's involvements in the Napoleonic Wars, and also the revelation of the prophecy of The Raven King in all its mythical grandeur.

 JS & MN is a long, meandering read that needs to be slowly savored, not to be rushed. I started reading it feeling a little bit wary myself,the first hundred pages being undeniably dragging. But I soon came to a certain point where something just clicked, and from there on it was almost impossible to put it down. This book is over 1000 pages long, and yet, as I close the book in completion, I asked myself of how 1000 pages could seemingly be so terribly short.

 For me, who end up liking this book, JS & MN is a true charmer, compelling in all its subtlety, imaginative, witty and beautifully written. Clarke has a flair in language use. She employs the right words at all the right moments to make us feel exactly what she intends us to feel, and see exactly what she wants us to see. With this ability at hands she creates a fine balance of myths, magic, history, warfare, politic and mundane domestic life. Clarke treats magic as an object of study in the truest sense. Some parts of the book read like an academic essay, with long studious arguments of why such and such magic can or cannot be done, various citations from the works of great magicians long dead, and insanely lengthy footnotes (which people ever so often think as annoying distractions, yet I found them really fun to read). She also has a perfect grasp about the age in which her characters are living. Thus her writing comes off convincingly like a product of 19th century British literature (though it has the virtue of being more comprehensible), perfectly written with all the old spellings: chuse, sopha, shew, surprize .

 Clarke's characterization is definitely one of the best elements in the book. The characters, be it the main protagonists or otherwise, are solidly drawn and interesting, as lovable as they are flawed. Strange, though not someone who is altogether admirable, is charming and generally more likable, and yet narrow-minded Norrell, with all his jealousy and peevishness, feels all too human that I couldn't help but sympathise with him even when I didn't want to.

 A literary merit though this book is, please be warned that not everyone will find it fascinating. If you're halfway through the book and it still doesn't pique your interest, put it down then, save your precious time. But if you're halfway through and already been absorbed it's very likely you'll be graced with something that stays with you days and weeks after you finished reading it. I know it did this for me. Definitely one of those rare treats I'd be willingly and gladly re-read each year.
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 Tadiana ✩Night Owl☽
 1,880 reviews 22.6k followers
 May 18, 2020
 $1.99 Kindle sale, May 18, 2020. I adore and highly recommend this Regency-era fantasy but it definitely isn't everyone's cuppa tea! The bad: It's a doorstopper of a novel, very long and very slow-paced. The good: It's absolutely brilliant, filled with intricate details, REALLY creative. Give it a shot!

 Adventures in reading Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell with my real-life book club (also posted on Fantasy Literature ):

 Tadiana: This book is like a mashup of Jane Austen, or maybe Charles Dickens, and fantasy, with Regency-era British magicians and charming, vindictive and devious faeries. It creates an incredibly rich, complex and detailed fantasy world; the Raven King mythology is fantastic. The main plotline of this novel deals with the on-and-off friendship between two very different magicians: Mr Norrell, who is bookish, stuffy and reclusive, and Jonathan Strange, who's a younger, charming and impetuous person, and their dealings and troubles with Faerie and other magical places and characters, but there are several subplots intricately woven into this tale. It thoughtfully explores some interesting issues that you wouldn't expect, like the difficulties women, servants and minorities have had in making their voices heard. This is a truly unique and inventive novel. It challenged my brain and fascinated me. I adored it.

 Rest of book club: This book is soooo long. Aaand kind of confusing, not to mention slow and boring.

 Tadiana: I love the dry humor. The tongue-in-cheek quasi-scholarly footnotes totally crack me up.

 Rest of book club: Seriously, what is the deal with those bizarre footnotes? They're just weird.

 Tadiana: Imma buy this in hardback and keep it forever.

 Rest of book club: DNF
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 Meagan
 53 reviews 13 followers
 December 25, 2007
 Jesus Christ, this book reads like molasses. It's like the author took every book from her Brit Lit class and consciously tried to make it wordier and longer than all of them combined. I get the point she wants to make, but I honestly could not get past the second chapter.

 It also was so incredibly pretentious. The whole thing has this superior feel, like having a conversation with someone who is absolutely reassured of how much smarter they are than you. It left me feeling bored, stupid, depressed and confused, and those are four words that I do not like to associate with reading.

 If you really want to plow through a novel like this, just go read some Charles Dickens . You get used to him after a few pages and you start to like him after the first chapter. Clarke, however, never redeems herself.
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 Sean Barrs
 1,105 reviews 44.2k followers
 March 8, 2016
 Book like this are not written anymore. This feels like it should have been published in the nineteenth century and not because of the obvious setting, but because of the remarkable writing style. It is very similar to Austen’s that I’m sure she might have been delighted by Clarke’s work. Well, maybe. But, either way novelists like this do not exist in this age, unfortunately. The writing has the feel of a classic, but the plot has the feel of a thoroughly charming fantasy.

 This is a work of complete magical genius



 Indeed, she has written it in the pastiche style of Jane Austen and Charles Dickens; she has used their language style, narrative techniques and masterful characterisations to create a novel that is a superb work of fantasy. If Austen or Dickens strayed away from their realism novels then this is what it could look like. Susanna Clarke is an absolute wonderful writer. I wish there were more writers like her. Words, literally, cannot express my reverence for this novel: I simply adore it.

 The plot is incredible. Imagine an England in the nineteenth century, not much unlike the real one, that is prosperous, full of gentleman and completely devoid of all magic and fantasy: it reeks of realism. The inhabitants are offended by the idea of magic being reputable; the very thought is inconceivable. Magic is not respectable because the streets are infested with street performers and fakes that claim to do magic. There are also theoretical magicians who merely study its principals and have never succeeded in the practical side. However, there is one man in England who has spent the last forty years buried under a pile of books. His name is Mr Norrell, and he is the greatest magician of the age.

 A friendship of necessity



 Norrell is a bibliophile; he is a book hoarder and is quite possible the biggest bookworm that has ever lived. (I give him a silent bow.) He has devised his own system of magic that is reputable and gentleman like: it is modern magic. He keeps his perilous, and beloved, tomes to himself. He fears that such deadly books will be misused, but he also wants to be the only man in England that knows their secrets. Behind his mask of propriety and professionalism there is a soul that longs for the ancient magic that he detest so vehemently. This magic is powered by fate, and demands that two magicians, not one, must restore magic to dreary old England.

 “I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment.”

 The second magician is called Johnathan Strange, and he becomes Norrell’s pupil much to the old man’s delight and dismay. Where Norrell is cautious, studious, and self-conceiting Strange is reckless, open to new knowledge and practical. He is eager to push the boundaries of his tutors limited approach to magic; he is eager to use the magic Norrel detests. He fights in the Napoleonic war to bring magic into high repute whereas his tutor stays in his library doing weather magic to dog the French. Strange is young and energetic, but he also is practical to the needs of his country.

 “Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never would.”

 It is no wonder then that England prefers Strange to his tutor. However, only with his mentor can Strange attempt to restore English magic. The two are complete opposites, and only side by side can the opposing magicians restore magic to a dreary and bleak England: only together can they bring back the Raven King. The relationship between the two men, for me, really elevated this novel to the next level. They begin as student and tutor, but end up as equals. The dynamics change between the two as student outshines tutor, and threatens to destroy everything he represents.

 Authenticity



 I think by setting this is an England that is realistic, and very true to the actual one, Clarke pulls at the heart strings of many a reader. I think this has affected so many readers for the same reason the Harry Potter series did. Clarke, like Rowling, shows us a world that is dry and boring; it is infested by those that have no affinity for magic. Then underneath it all they both reveal worlds that are enchanting and magical. Indeed, most people long for a sense of the fantastic and escape from the mundane realism that is their life. Well, at least I do. Clarke, like Rowling, offers a glimpse of a world that is like our own, only better.

 Moreover, the footnotes and magical text references, used by Clarke, help to add further weight to this feeling. These make the novel seem academic, and reflect the age in which it was set, they give a sense of actuality behind the fantastical. Some of the footnotes are huge, and they do interrupt the narrative. However, this is a more effective means of delivery the history of such a beautiful world than, for example, having the characters reproduce is verbatim in speech. I think it’s a much less awkward way, and creates the sense that this world could exist, should exist.

 In addition to this, the structure of the novel reflects the age in which it represents. The novel is divided into three volumes, and towards the end Clarke utilises the hugely popular, and utterly brilliant, epistolary means of storytelling. Both demonstrate a norm of novel writing in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which reflects the novel structure associated with the time. The language Clarke uses is akin to the wonderful Jane Austen, and the underline sarcasm, like in Austen’s works, is apparent. Indeed, Clarke continuously mocks Napoleon Bonaparte; I disagree with her assessment of him, however, the opinion she wields reflects that of the English at the time, so in a sense it enhances the feeling afore mentioned.

 I adore this book

 This book is simply brilliant. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to articulate exactly how wonderful it is. If I had magic I could show you, but, alas, I am a mere theoretical magician. Seriously though, I get emotional when I think about the sheer excellence of this book; I’ve read this twice now and in all honesty I can say that I immediately want to read it again. Strange and Norrel are two of the most interesting, and well written, characters I’ve ever read about. They are both right in their arguments, and both wrong. It’s such a unique and memorable relationship.

 “There is nothing else in magic but the wild thought of the bird as it casts itself into the void. There is no creature upon the earth with such potential for magic. Even the least of them may fly straight out of this world and come by chance to the Other Lands. Where does the wind come from that blows upon your face, that fans the pages of your book? Where the harum-scarum magic of small wild creatures meets the magic of Man, where the language of the wind and the rain and the trees can be understood, there we will find the Raven King.”

 I could only ever give this book five stars, I’d give it more if I could.

 Bravo Susanna Clarke!

 This book has quite literally floored me. If anybody takes a single recommendation of mine remotely seriously, then take this one because this novel is incredible!

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 Paul Bryant
 2,166 reviews 9,118 followers
 July 17, 2012
 If a novel of nearly 900 pages can be summarised in one phrase then Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell may, I think, be described as a stately, sly, witty, intricate, comic retelling of Dracula, with digressions and very little blood.

 Count Dracula takes life from beautiful young ladies, enslaves them, enchants them, enraptures them, steals them away, into his own twilight (oops, sorry) vampire world – they become something other than what they were, undead, not alive yet not dead, creatures which do his bidding (the company I work for does something quite similar so it appears to be legal). In Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, a fairy does exactly the same thing, but there's no blood involved, just a little magic. In Dracula it takes quite a while before the heroes realise what’s happening to their gorgeous young women (in both books the gorgeousness is emphasised, I do like that, you know, since they're imaginary why can't they be drop dead too? hmm, probably the wrong phrase). But compared with Mr Strange and Mr Norrell, the Dracula boys are quick on the uptake. Because we’re past page 600 before the penny drops in this one.

 THE ARBITRARINESS OF MAGIC

 One of my problems with this giant enfolding fog of a book is the nature of magic itself. In Dracula Van Helsing lays out the rules about vampires for the readers – they can do this but they can’t do that; sunlight, shape-shifting; silver; crosses; all of that. He later wrote the Observer Book of Vampires (Heinemann, 1911) and it's all in there. The rules are the rules. Many young leary vampires have been struck off for thinking that they were too cool for rules.

 Governing committee : You were seen buying maximum factor sunblock in Superdrug three Saturdays in a row.

 Young cool vampire : Yeah well, my girlfriend wants me to go camping with her family next week.

 Governing committee : Under section 3 subsection 2 paragraph B I hereby strike you off the official list of vampires.

 YCV : But but

 GC : Beat it, kid, don't waste our time. This is a serious business.


 But there are no rules for magic - at least, none discernable. The rule seems to be - sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Mr Strange goes to war to help the English fight Napoleon Boney. In Portugal he is able to create good roads where only mud tracks exist for the English Army to march down. Later he is able to make magical hands arise from the earth and entangle the French troops; but he doesn’t do any magic to prevent the English troops being massacred by cannonballs and artillery – what, no magical winds available to blow the cannonballs off course? But pardon, Mr Strange, elsewhere don’t you say that weather magic is the easiest sort to do? So whyever not? Well, we are not told. He never thinks of doing it, never thinks of alleviating the English troops’ suffering. Susanna Clark says in an interview that she wished to show that people’s romantic or over-optimistic notions of magic were to be disappointed by the unsatisfactoriness of her version of magic. I take that argument, it’s a good one, but it does not solve the difficulty of arbitrariness and the lack of any rules or boundaries.
 When anything can happen, and then at some other point, for unknown reasons, the same thing can’t happen, the element of tension simply disappears in a cloud of smoke – poof! As if by magic.

 BIPOLARITY

 I thought that the villain in this novel was certainly suffering from undiagnosed bipolar disorder. Alas that the story took place in the 1810s, when mood stabilising medication had not yet been developed. If the gentleman with the thistledown hair had been prescribed Carbamazepine, Lamotrigine or Lithium I am quite sure the whole thing with the ladies would have never happened and the misunderstanding and antagonisms between him and the two magicians would never have arisen in the first place.

 STYLE

 It has been said this novel is like Dickens. It is not. Those who say that have not read Dickens. Do not believe them.
 It is said that this novel is like Jane Austen. Okay, with your left eye closed and your right eye squinched up and tilting the novel at a slight angle, then yes, it is. But don’t say it too loudly or Jane Austen fans might beat you lightly with their lace doileys.

 PACING

 The good news : the story definitely picks up around page 650. That is the good news.

 SHOULD YOU READ THIS BOOK?

 For readers thinking about giving this one a go , you should know a few things. Half of this novel is quite a bit longer than most other novels, so unless you like slow, laborious build-ups (this is not the magical equivalent of Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill), intricate fake-scholarly footnotes recounting mad details about non-existent books, people, folk-tales, all pseudo-erudite tomfoolery calculated to flesh out the magical world whilst at the same time giving the reader many large winks along the lines “aren’t we having some scholarly fun? Isn’t this a thinking person’s hoot?”; unless you like many pages spent fretting about whether Mr Norrell will lend Mr Strange a particular book (this will-he won’t-he theme gets a little tiresome, so I’ll let you know – big plot spoiler - he doesn’t – now you can skip those bits); unless you like your reading to be languid, leisurely, luxurious, learned, leavened with loopy legerdemain and long, long, long, this may not be the one for you.

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 carol.
 1,510 reviews 7,616 followers
 December 2, 2014
 In the beginning was a preface, and then an introduction, followed by some exposition, and then an opening.

 Looking through the reviews, it appears many people either adore it or hate it. Frankly, I'm in neither camp, because I can't work up enough emotion to care. It took a long time to become interested, and I finally had to resort to a strategy of reading only a few chapters at a time, setting free any expectation that this was a book that would pull me in and never let me go. It became the perfect book to read before bed, a non-habit forming Ambien that avoided unpleasant dreams while lulling me into sleep. The language and structure of the tale is a formidable barrier to easy enjoyment; this is Great Expectations , the original, uncut director's copy, thick enough in mass market paperback to soak with water and turn into a paper-mache brick. The final obstacle to delight is the general distastefulness of Mr. Norrell. This is improved somewhat when Jonathan Strange enters the tale, and for a while I was able to read without Mr. Sandman paying a visit.

 I found much of the tale to be philosophizing about the character of England, and the distinctions between the north and the south tedious as they are somewhat non-accessible and lack relevance to the non-English. In some ways, I suspect the cultural conflict might resemble American regional conflicts, but it takes a talented author to make the conflict relevant across oceans and time. I understand Clarke is doing; I just lack interest in the subject matter, so the voice starts to sound a lot like the adults in Charlie Brown. Muhua wa wa...

 Unfortunately, the writing style and its take on various popular Victorian styles is monotonous for me. Although I enjoy the 19th century British mysteries, and Wodehousian humor, Clarke has neither the tightly woven mystery nor the snappy dialogue that keeps me interested in those forms. When it comes to writing style, I can see why some people would find her writing interesting, especially if they are fans of the time period; it just fails to resonate for me in the way it is presented. The footnotes are occasionally amusing as they frequently contain opinionated commentary. I read recently that Clarke wrote the story in "bundles" and ended up working at fitting them together. In retrospect, this might explain some of the jumps in plotting and setting, and account for the way plots were set down and then picked up a hundred pages later.

 I was pleased to discover the magical or supernatural elements play a larger role than I expected from reading other reviews. One of the characters and plotlines I struggled with was that of the "white-haired gentleman." While it certainly brought magical elements to the story, I felt like he was a distraction and never fully woven into the plot. His obsession with Stephen, was particularly odd, and I never felt like I understood it's connection to Norrell and Strange.

 Clarke does sprinkle gentle humor throughout the story that occasionally caused twitters or giggles. One of the first lines to make me laugh:

 "He was so clean and healthy and pleased about everything that he positively shone--which is only to be expected in a fairy or an angel but is somewhat disconcerting in an attorney."

 Cross posted at http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/0...

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 Lyn
 1,849 reviews 16.4k followers
 February 5, 2019
 If a writer is going to publish a book this big (thousand plus pages) then it must be very good, or the readers will never know about the thousands plus pages beyond the heft as they toss it aside or by the thickness as it is put back on the shelf.

 This book is that good.

 Using language correct for the time period (Napoleonic Wards era, early 1800s) and richly complex characterizations reminiscent of Jane Austen or Charles Dickens, author Susanna Clarke has crafted a gem. It was the winner of and nominated for a host of awards like the Hugo, the Man Booker, Nebula, Locus, Guardian First Book, World Fantasy, Mythopoeic Fantasy, Book Sense and Cena Akademie SFFH. High accolades all and topped off with a gushing quote from none other than Neil Gaiman, who said: "Unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written in the last seventy years."

 So what is all the fuss about?

 Clarke has created an alternate history where magic is an excepted and realized fact of English history and life. In this reality, a magician king had ruled Northern England for centuries and then disappeared, and two unassuming and scholarly types go their own way in trying to restore magic to England.

 To create a surprisingly seamless magical (pun intended) realism, Clarke employed the inclusion of or reference to the following: Francisco Goya, Frances Burney, William Beckford, Monk Lewis, Lord Byron, and Ann Radcliffe; publisher John Murray; politicians Lord Castlereagh and George Canning; the Duke of Wellington and the crazy as a Marsh Hare, King George III.

 All that and an unnamed faerie king with issues.

 I will admit here that I went to Wikipedia and searched for the Raven King and John Uskglass and felt like an idiot when I realized she had landed me hook, line and sinker.

 A brilliant work and a must read for fans of the fantasy genre.

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 Apatt
 507 reviews 757 followers
 May 28, 2016
 Neil Gaiman said that this book is "hard to overpraise" , I will make an attempt thus:

 While I was reading the second half of this book it occurred to me that I don't actually need to read any other novel ever again, I could just read this one book over and over again for the rest of my days and when the Grim Reaper calls I shall have this book clutched possessively in my stiff, unyielding fingers.

 Momentary insanity of course, but it is indicative of the devotion I feel toward this book. With in the first page or two I was already feeling very friendly toward this book because of the prose. Ms. Clarke seems to be channelling Jane Austen by way of Oscar Wilde, P.G. Wodehouse, Hans Christian Andersen, with some dark sprinkles of Poe and Lovecraft. I grew increasingly fond of the book page by page until I was ready to put it on a pedestal and worship it by the time I reached in end.

 The basic outline of the story is that it concerns the titular Jonathan and Mr. Norrell. Mr Norway brings magic back to England, takes on Mr. strange as his pupil, the two gentlemen later become rivals. Their interrelationship is the backbone of this long book that features wonderful characters, humour, sadness, heroism, redemption and magic, not to mention non-stop dancing and cameos by Napoleon Bonaparte Lord Byron and crazy King George III.

 Normally when I read a long book of more than 700 pages in length I like to pause at about half way through, pick up a shorter book to read to the finish and go back to the long book. For me it helps to relieve the impatience from spending so much time with just one book. However, with this book* it is impossible, I could not extricate myself from it. I am a slowish reader and I spent about two weeks living and breathing this book and now that I have finish it I feel a little disoriented. Also, I tend to feel more comfortable reading SF than fantasy, the problem I personally have with a lot of fantasy is suspension of disbelief when magic manifests in some way. The pacing of this book is so perfect and the magic so skillfully and gradually woven into the story that I no problem throwing disbelief out the window and just settle down and immerse into this magical version of England.

 Overpraise this book? Impossible!
 _______________________
 * I read the Kindle edition, the footnotes are hypertext links that jump to the back of the book (after the novel is ended), I had to ensure that I bookmark the page before I click on any footnote otherwise it would have been difficult to find my way back.

 Footnotes(!)
 • A footnote about the footnotes. I am tempted to knock off one star for the over abundance of footnotes, I am personally not keen on them as they interrupt the flow of the story for me. However, it would be ill-bred of me to use my own preferences as the standard for quality assessment. The fact is that lots of people like them and I think that justify their existence; not to mention that they are as beautifully written as the main body of the book. It is also worth mentioning that you can skip them entirely and still follow the story without missing a beat. I skimmed them and I intend to go back to read them all. Besides, this book deserves at least a billion stars rating and Goodreads can only cope with five, so if I did knock off one star nobody would notice.

 • Have a look at Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell fan arts at Deviant Art . A wiki devoted to this book is also available for in-depth info.
 _______________________________
 Update June 2015 :
 • Neil Gaiman: Why I love Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell

 • Susanna Clarke on the TV Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell: ‘My own characters were walking about!’

 • I love the BBC adaptation. The AV Club's reviews here .

 • According to Wikipedia Susanna Clarke is working on another book set in the Strange & Norrell universe (so the word sequel may be inappropriate). Don't hold your breath waiting for it though because it took her ten years to write Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell by the time she publishes this second novel there may be flying cars and hoverboards on the street.
 fantasy-top20 top-20
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 Nataliya
 719 reviews 11.4k followers
 November 26, 2022
 I suppose whether you love this book or hate it will depend on how you feel about 19th century novels. In Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Susanna Clarke decided to emulate the style, the pace and the vocabulary/orthography of that time in a way that would have made Charles Dickens proud. It’s a period piece with magic, I suppose.

 But you see, I enjoy some 19th century novels *despite* them being such, not *because* of it.



 Once I got past all the “chuse” (!), “shewed”(!!!) and “sopha” (!!!) iterations, I still had to try to process the glacial pace and meandering nature of the story — and although I’m very partial to meanderings of Stephen King, here I just wanted so badly to get to any kind of a point, hoping for an editor’s red pen to trim some of the vignettes and descriptions. The heavy reliance on period-appropriate tell-not-show, the distasteful and often dull characters that built up my irritation (Norrell has a special place in boring hell) , and the general slow monotony of the narrative — all that kept me at a distance, never allowing me to engage with the story.

 If not for sheer stubbornness and terminal ability to DNF I would have not cared to keep picking it up. (Yup, I know, it’s a problem; shut up!)

 It must be what getting stuck in a bog feel like. You can’t get out even if you’re not a fan of the experience.



 Had the 500 pages of bloat been cut out of this kitten-squisher, it could have been pretty great. And yes, about 80% of those unnecessary footnotes would have to go , too, since most of them were just extra filler (yeah, Clarke needed to learn from Pratchett on how to do it right). But despite all the room for bloat quite a few bits that would have made better sense to include were left on the cutting-room floor, apparently, leading to the jarring cuts among the bloat.

 Not to say there weren’t moments of brilliance — Mr Strange going to war was witty and funny, and Stephen in the end was amazing — but these were few and far in between, and ultimately just not enough.

 This book tired me out and left me cold.

 2 stars (sorry, Nastya, I tried). To see Clarke get to the point much faster, try Piranesi .

 ———————
 (I was undecided on the final rating for this one until I just watched “12 Angry Men” and saw how easily a story can be told simply and concisely, with zero bloat. And that cemented my feelings about this 1000-pages kitten-squisher.)

 ——————

 Also posted on my blog .
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 mark monday
 1,623 reviews 4,967 followers
 March 14, 2016
 the hero of this novel, Mr. Norrell, is in many ways a stranger in a strange land, uncomfortable with base emotions and disappointed with the shabbiness and inadequacies of others... yet always yearning for true companionship. a dignified, erudite, and refined gentleman; quietly soulful and elegantly restrained; commanding in his encyclopedic knowledge of the magical arts.

 the other character, a fey and unreliable sort apparently named "Jonathan Strange", offers fleeting friendship that is quickly frittered away in tawdry misadventure, misplaced romance, and other assorted bits of ill-conceived and juvenile tomfoolery, often abroad, often with a host of questionable characters. even worse, Strange's nascent addictive personality rears its dark dark head, causing all sorts of trouble with various dire characters that were once thought lost in history. fortunately, Mr. Norrell is a stalwart and brave ally, and his careful guidance soon sets things in their natural order - no thanks to the whimsical and unreliable Strange.

 ***

 an awesome book, one of my favorites. the comparisons with Austen & Dickens have been made repeatedly; i agree. it almost seems silly to review this - it is like some kind of immense edifice, some giant piece of art, or something, that folks should just experience rather than read about. the pacing moves from snail-like and digressive to hallucinatory and lightning fast. the characters are wonderfully complicated. the magic is fascinating. the whole thing is smart and funny and melancholy and charming and just brilliant. plus the footnotes: fantastic! this is a huge novel but i wasn't bored for a second.

 i hope this never becomes a movie.
 alpha-team fog-and-gears secret-histories
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 Maggie Stiefvater
 Author 64 books 167k followers
 June 18, 2008
 This slow burn historical fantasy (it really isn't a proper historical fantasy -- it's really told much more as a straight historical and the fantasy is bonus) is one of the best novels I've read -- ever. Clarke never breaks voice or changes her slow, relentless pacing. It's a novel meant to be savored over the course of a month, not rushed through -- so that you can properly appreciate the rush of the climax.


 ***wondering why all my reviews are five stars? Because I'm only reviewing my favorite books -- not every book I read. Consider a novel's presence on my Goodreads bookshelf as a hearty endorsement. I can't believe I just said "hearty." It sounds like a stew.****
 recommended
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 Matthew
 1,219 reviews 8,711 followers
 December 24, 2015
 This book was a chore! While I liked the story, the writing style was not enjoyable at all for me. Also, I am not really sure why everything happened, what exactly happened, and why it took so many words and pages to tell this story.

 It started at 5 stars and, as I trudged through the book, there was a slow leak of stars as my interest started to wane. That leak stopped at 2 stars.
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 jessica
 2,494 reviews 30.2k followers
 September 7, 2022
 oof. okay. this just wasnt for me. its no doubt a feat of a book with evident effort and meticulous detail, but its just not something i really enjoyed reading.

 i personally struggle with 19th century literature so, with this being a pastiche of that time periods writing style, themes, and literary devices, i never fully got into this. i think the concept is interesting, so had the narrative been written in a more modern style, my feelings would probably be totally different.

 so objectively well-written, but just not my cup of tea. the illustrations were cute, though!

 ↠ 2.5 stars
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 Peter (on semi hiatus and trying to catch up)
 473 reviews 2,513 followers
 January 22, 2022
 Lifeless
 After finishing, Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell , the overwhelming feeling was a sense of relief and then puzzlement that I committed so much time to read this. I found the book a great disappointment on various levels, and for once, I have to say that the TV production was so much better than the novel.

 The characters were generally uninteresting, including the two main protagonists. The story's timing occurred when magic again surfaced in England, and magicians were unsure of their power. Mr Norell is an academic rather drab character intent on learning his craft from books and manuscripts. His arrogance wants him to be considered England's only legitimate magician. Jonathan Strange is more a practical magician and lends a hand in fighting Napolean. His magic seems almost whimsical, and the English soldiers still die in huge numbers. The plot is so weak that the involvement with the Napoleonic Wars didn't generate much interest. It was all very flat. What can be said is that the detail of the surroundings and story are considerable - even with footnotes to describe minutiae. The setting was okay, and I did feel that the atmosphere of early 19th century England came through well.

 I am surprised this book received its praises, and I can only assume that the story's context was a big draw. We all want to believe that magic exists and that somewhere a magician is just waiting to develop the skills handed down from Merlin. If that was to happen, I can only hope that it's NOT to someone like Strange or Norrell and that there would be a superb plot of twists and surprises, with captivating characters to bring it all to life.

 I might have been tempted to consider a higher rating if it had not been so long. The length is a problem in a story that drifts at such a slow pace, with details I couldn't care less about. If stories can affect the heart rate from high intensity to resting, then this will set the heart rate to coma.
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 Henry Avila
 448 reviews 3,222 followers
 November 16, 2019
 In the early part of the nineteenth -century there arose in northern England ( well one by the border of Wales) two powerful magicians, old bookworm Gilbert Norrell of Hurtfew Abbey, always reading in his immense dark library, obscure ancient dusty books on the subject that he cares only about, magic and young tall Jonathan Strange, who inherited like his future short friend, tutor and rival Mr. Norrell, (not interested then, in wizardry) a vast amount of property and money. Around the city of York magic flourished, both resided in small villages many miles from the unknown other, Mr. Strange is quite different from the mysterious recluse Gilbert, no books of the supernatural, soon to be married likes to get out of his house, (Ashfair) mingle with people, have fun and live...In the Fall (Autumn) of 1806, a society of magicians in York met every week in a rundown inn and discussing, ( sometimes tempers flare) what else magic, that they were amateurs and couldn't do any spells didn't matter, passion was the only importance . Sending letters to the private Mr.Norrell after discovering he was the true article, a practicing, accomplished man in the fine art of conjuring, asking him to appear at their next meeting he declines, they write back a disrespectful note; a contract is drawn up, the angry magician does show his skill in the city's Cathedral, only his servant John Childermass is present, the frightened society of not able men see stones move, they quickly disband as the agreement stated... The bored Mr.Strange doesn't know what should be his profession, his would be fiancee Arabella, is anxious to know before consenting to marry him, nothing interest the rich man except an unusual, vague liking of magic... and the weird thing is he's good at it. Newspaper stories about this incident at the church makes Mr.Norrell famous in London, he travels there yet it takes many parties and gatherings to reach his goal, he has a few friends to tell him what is required , time passes by, finally meeting influential government officials, after bringing back a dead woman to life, he can be useful to the authorities in fighting Napoleon...making phantom ships that scare the French. Naturally Jonathan Strange wants to talk to the great Mr.Norrell, visits him in the capital and impressed by his abilities, the famous enchanter makes Jonathan his pupil, but of course they get on each others nerves. And still an almighty odd, evil spirit a faerie, much more fearsome than either of the magicians, lurks about bringing death and destruction everywhere. ..The government takes the young man to Portugal to help the Duke of Wellington, (at first not taken seriously, by the unruffled general ) fight the French invaders, crisscrossing that nation and Spain also, fixing roads confusing the enemy changing the course of rivers, the bloody battles go on year after bloody year, he Mr.Strange becomes immune to the carnage...This fantasy an alternative history of Britain, is a wonderful fable for anyone interested in magic, makes it seem that it really exist nevertheless, will entertain and bring pure joy to those people the grateful readers, that want to be intrigued.
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 Caz (littlebookowl)
 301 reviews 40.3k followers
 August 29, 2018
 RatingL 4.5 stars
 bloomsbury owned
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 Will Byrnes
 1,287 reviews 120k followers
 June 5, 2016
 After a hiatus of several centuries since it was actively practiced, magic is back in early 19th century England. Clarke has created an alternate, magical history, in which England had once been divided between north and south, and a temporal and a fairy kingdom. Stuffy intellectuals satisfy themselves with studying the writings of the past, forming debating societies. But in 1807 a person emerges who dares to actually practice magic.


 Eddie Marsden as Mr Norrell - from AMC networks

 Mr Norrell is an arrogant fellow, convinced not only that he is the only decent practical magician in England, but that it would be best if he were the only one allowed to practice at all. He proceeds to play politics to sustain, increase and legitimize his monopoly. The emergence of a second practical magician presents a challenge, solved in the short term by taking on Jonathan Strange as a student.


 Bertie Carvel as Jonathan Strange

 Both magicians want to use their talent for the good of their country, and perform amusing and not so amusing spells on the French enemy. Ultimately they are faced with the growing emergence of a real, powerful, underlying magical realm. It intrudes on their lives and forces them to confront darkness while trying to master the unsuspected reality.


 Marc Warren as “The Gentleman”

 The book has a wonderful pretext, and the tale is told in a straight style, with more than a few touches of humor. It offers a look at how the new use the machinery of government to create a sinecure, how a need to impress can lead to corruption. It is fun to read, but does take quite a long time, and has sections in which it drags. It should probably have been shorter by a hundred or two hundred pages.


 Susanna Clarke - from Minnesota public radio

 Meanderings are many. In short, or long, it was enjoyable, and is recommended but not to the highest degree. Several award committees disagreed, holding it in significantly higher esteem. JS&MN was not only long-listed for the Man Booker Prize, it was short-listed for several other awards and won, among others, the World Fantasy award for best novel, the British Book Award for best newcomer of the Year, and the Hugo Award.

 The TV adaptation was shown beginning (in the USA anyway) in June 2015

 Review posted – 10/29/2008
 Updated and Reposted - 6/19/15

 Publication date – 9/30/2004

 ============================= EXTRA STUFF

 I found no personal site for Clarke, nor, FB nor Twitter. Bloomsbury has put up a Facebook page for the book

 A particularly nifty site organizes people, places, et al, from the book. If you get heavily into the book, this is a must-have resource

 A nice, soft article on the author visiting the production set

 A 2004 interview with Clarke on the SF site

 A 2005 interview on Bookslut

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 Bradley
 Author 5 books 3,886 followers
 November 12, 2018
 Re-read, 11/11/18:

 The only real review for this book is one that fully experiences it from the inside. In other words, take the roads, listen to the rocks, and above all, DON'T TRUST THE FARIES.

 This was a classic when I first read it and it's just as good on any re-read. That's why I put this in my top-100 list. :) It will stand the test of time.

 Let's fight with Wellington and defeat Napoleon with magic! Let's get into major trouble, get majorly paranoid, and do it with arrogance and style!

 Above all, this is a buddy novel that starts really rocky, continues worse, ends in mistrust, and yet, is quintessentially English. In other words, polite and often uplifting. :)

 Brilliant book. I think it will always be. :)
 2018-shelf fantasy top-one-hundred
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 Katie Lumsden
 Author 1 book 2,628 followers
 September 25, 2021
 I loved this. It's rich, wonderful and clever, with fascinating characterisation, world-building and brilliant themes. What a book.
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 Diane
 1,080 reviews 2,617 followers
 December 19, 2015
 I finally finished! My paperback was more than 1,000 pages long, so this is a triumph.

 Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell is a book that I started out loving, but the middle part dragged so much that I grew impatient for the story to end. I feel so differently about the two halves of the book that I wish I could issue two Goodreads ratings.

 Let's start with what I liked about this novel. Susanna Clarke has a great imagination and a good sense of humor. The story is set in the early 1800s in England and follows the adventures of two magicians, Mr. Strange and Mr. Norrell. They have different opinions about magic, and while they start out as collaborators, they later become enemies. At different times, both magicians are enlisted to help the British Army and Navy in the Napoleonic Wars. (The extensive battle scenes are what started to drag down the book.) The story also involves a spiteful fairy, who likes to steal people away to his kingdom. The story builds until there is a fateful showdown between the mean fairy and the magicians. There's a lot else going on, but to try and summarize it all would drive me mad.

 Parts of this book were charming and amusing, and I sometimes smiled while reading, more so in the first half. Clarke's wit has been compared to Jane Austen's, but let's not get carried away, people. I'll grant that it's amusing, and Clarke captured some foibles of human nature. But this wouldn't make my list of things I regularly recommend to fans of Miss Austen.

 My complaints about the book revolve mostly around its epic, meandering story, which did not have to be 1,000 pages. This book was desperately in need of a tougher editor. Clarke also included lots of footnotes, most of which were too clever by half. I listened to this on audio, and the footnotes were read at the indicated place in the text, but if I had just read the print book I would have quickly grown irritated and skimmed all of them.

 My other frustration with this book was how dim-witted Strange and Norrell were. They were ridiculously slow to catch on to what the evil fairy was doing, despite the fact that they were supposed to be clever, powerful magicians. It seemed like the author was dragging out their ignorance in order to lengthen the story, which really didn't need any lengthening.

 While I do have complaints about this book, I did enjoy a good part of it. These epic novels are so difficult to rate. I think I'll give the first half a 4 and the last half a 3. I'll be generous and rate this a 3.5 rounded up to 4.

 Recommended, with caution, to those who like magical stories and British humor.

 Favorite Quotes
 "Can a magician kill a man by magic?" Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. "I suppose a magician might," he admitted, "but a gentleman never would."

 "Well, I suppose one ought not to employ a magician and then complain that he does not behave like other people."

 "I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment."

 "Houses, like people, are apt to become rather eccentric if left too much on their own; this house was the architectural equivalent of an old gentleman in a worn dressing-gown and torn slippers, who got up and went to bed at odd times of day, and who kept up a continual conversation with friends no one else could see."

 "Oh! And they read English novels! David! Did you ever look into an English novel? Well, do not trouble yourself. It is nothing but a lot of nonsense about girls with fanciful names getting married."

 "The argument he was conducting with his neighbor as to whether the English magician had gone mad because he was a magician, or because he was English."
 audiobooks british-charm fantasy
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 Hannah Greendale
 693 reviews 3,246 followers
 Shelved as 'dnf'
 October 8, 2018
 Nope, nope, nope. DNF at 68%. The act of reading has become a chore, a sensation that cannot be condoned or perpetuated.

 It's been six hundred and eighty pages, and this book has yet to enthrall or surprise. The character motives baffle, the fantasy elements are uneven, the tone is dry and the story uneventful. Writing a tome of this magnitude is no small feat, but it's achieved to greater effect by Jonathan Stroud in his marvelous book, The Amulet of Samarkand , which I would leap to recommend while warning bookworms to steer clear of this cumbersome book.
 booker-prize-nominee fantasy fiction
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 Arah-Lynda
 337 reviews 520 followers
 October 21, 2016
 Tired of your workaday lives,

 Need to get away for a while?

 Come, sit a spell

 Let Susanna tell you a story.



 We go to England in the 1800’s, a time of the Napoleonic Wars, a time when most people believe magic to be dead in England. Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell are two magicians attempting, each in their own way, to change that and restore magic to England.

 I can admit that it took me a while to find my legs here, acquire my own rhythm with the writing and the story. In many ways this reads like a history lesson... The entire aspect and nature of magic and its history are all carefully and explicitly laid out, fully annotated with historical references that appear as footnotes (which while bitter at first, soon became delicious little bits that nourished and enriched). I came to crave them. Lord Byron and the Duke of Wellington, both, put in an appearance here, casually lending their historical pertinence, as England’s Prime Minister and his cabinet employ the magicians to assist in the battle against Napoleon.

 Susanna so deftly describes the two main protagonists, the magicians, so intricately, as to impart an intimate understanding of each of them. As opposite in character as they are in appearance Strange & Norrell command this stage, but along the way they share the spotlight, with a whole cast of others, people, that step right off the page:

 The man extracted himself from the hedge. This was no easy task because various parts of it – hawthorn twigs, elder branches, strands of ivy, mistletoe and witches broom – had insinuated themselves among his clothes, limbs and hair during the night or glued themselves to him with ice. He sat up. He did not seem in the least surprised to find he had an audience; one would almost have supposed from his behaviour that he had been expecting it. He looked at them all and gave several disparaging sniffs and snorts.

 He ran his fingers through his hair, removing dead leaves, bits of twig and half a dozen earwigs. “I reached out my hand” he muttered, to no-one in particular. “England’s rivers turned and flowed the other way.” He loosened his neckcloth and fished out some spiders which had taken up residence inside his shirt. In doing so, he revealed that his neck and throat were ornamented with an odd pattern of blue lines, dots, crosses and circles. Then he wrapped his neckcloth back about his neck and, having thus completed his toilet to his satisfaction, he rose to his feet.

 “My name is Vinculus”, he declared.


 What I loved most, as I listened to Susanna’s story was that it took me away, where a slow and curious sort of calm came over me. A kind of a hush, seemingly impenetrable, descended about me. A strange sense of quiet fell, like one might find in the wee hours of the morning. I relaxed, shook off the shackles of day to day and settled in, wholly immersed now and in no particular hurry, on this long, long journey. I stretched out my legs, met the man with the thistle-down hair and considered the colour of a heartache. I visited ballrooms and battlefields, travelled faerie roads, and searched for the Raven King. I watched the birds as they came to my feeder and fell away, to lost-hope house and all the mirrors of the world, utterly enchanted, and I believed.


 It was as if a door had opened somewhere. Or possibly a series of doors. There was a sensation as of a breeze blowing into the house and bringing with it the half- remembered scents of childhood. There was a shift in the light which seemed to cause all the shadows in the room to fall differently. There was nothing more definite than that, and yet, as often happens when some magic is occurring, both Drawlight and the lady had the strongest impression that nothing in the visible world could be relied upon any more. It was as if one might put out one’s hand to touch any thing in the room and discover it was no longer there.

 A tall mirror hung upon the wall above the sopha where the lady sat. It shewed a second great white moon in a second tall dark window and a second dim-mirror room. But Drawlight and the lady did not appear in the mirror room at all. Instead there was a kind of an indistinctness, which became a sort of shadow, which became the dark shape of someone coming towards them. From the path which this person took, it could clearly be seen that the mirror room was not like the original at all and that it was only by odd tricks of lighting and perspective – such as one might meet with in the theatre- that they appeared to be the same. It seemed that the mirror room was actually a long corridor.
 The hair and coat of the mysterious figure were stirred by a wind which could not be felt in their own room and though he walked briskly towards the glass which separated the two rooms, it was taking him some time to reach it. But finally he reached the glass and then there was a moment when his dark shape loomed very large behind it and his face was still in shadow.


 Susanna Clarke tells a story that spills over with wonder.


 This one is coming to the island with me.
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 Jeff
 912 reviews 678 followers
 October 17, 2018


 Imagine Charles Dickens figuring out how to master the time/space continuum, managing to make his way into our present, and briefly discussing his masterwork, Hard Times, with J. K. Rowling. The result being this huge-assed, yet entertaining tome on British magic. Way to go, Boz and thanks!!

 Is this for real, Jeff?

 Not really random Goodreader. I had too much coffee this morning and my mind is racing like a sports car driven by Danica Patrick.

 This book does kind of hit several literary sweet spots with me: Historical Fiction (waves to the Duke of Wellington and that walking horn ball poet, Lord Byron), Fantasy and a terrific sense of humor on the part of Susanna Clarke.

 The skinny: After centuries, English magic - long dormant - is being revived by a peevish asshat named Mr. Norrell. He wants to be THE one and only English magician and will spare nothing to block any one else interested in pulling rabbits from hats or doing card tricks. He reluctantly takes on a pupil, Jonathon Strange. Their magic helps kick Napoleon’s ass. There’s an evil, creepy faerie – kind of like a lethal obsessive powdered wig wearing Loki. He has his own agenda.



 And the great and powerful Raven King. Always the Raven King.

 Sounds great and it was for the most part, except:

 This starts off rather slowly – like a rollercoaster that takes its sweet-assed time getting up the first ascent – hanging on Clarke’s wit to keep the plot moving along. After the first descent and some frequent lunch losing swervings and such, the book takes off.



 As a lazy reader, I always welcome any sort of illustrations in books – especially 1000 page books - because I can jump ahead a few pages and feel a sense of accomplishment. However, the art here was of the murky – just – what – heck – is – that variety. Hey, I read graphic novels and know a thing or two about art. I actually know very little about art, so "murky". Shaddup!
 Where the hell were the Brothers Hildebrandt?

 F**king footnotes!!!



 As a concept, I can understand why Clarke footnoted the crap out of this book (quoting fake magic texts to give her book verisimilitude and suck the reader into the imaginary world), but if there’s ever a literary device that can grind any reading momentum to a halt, its half-page footnotes. A bunch of ‘em.

 My advice: skip over them.

 I hated typing in foot notes when I did school papers and I wish a pox on the family of the dude who invented the footnote.

 Still, the book has tons to recommend for the right reader – the ending is the cat’s pajamas – the characters are beautifully fleshed out - just stay with it after the spotty beginning.["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
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 emma
 1,802 reviews 44.1k followers
 Want to read
 April 13, 2021
 to anyone who calls me cynical or pessimistic: what could be more hopeful than adding super long books to my tbr when i'm probably never going to read them?
 fantasy historical non-ya
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 Julio Genao
 Author 9 books 1,977 followers
 December 22, 2015
 and the kitchen sink.



 simultaneously contemptuous and admiring of georgian culture and society, and possessed of many, many insights into the black heart of humankind, this book left me in a state of despair shot through with occasional palpitations of humor and excitement.

 on the whole, a vastly self-indulgent work—and as impressed with itself as we're meant to be.

 the footnotes, see... i love footnotes. but unlike, say, infinite jest, whose footnotes were by and large interesting and germane, these were most often completely useless and not at all worth the trouble of navigating to and fro within the ebook... when the links were working properly at all, of course.

 i get the sense that i was meant to enjoy, as goodreads reviewer paul bryant said, the fake scholarship of our omniscient narrator referring to books that d0 not exist, because that's wildly entertaining, i guess?

 and yet the writing here is, i felt, very good.

 it's just that the story —it wandered.

 to and fro, round england and onto the continent (three times), and then back again, somewhat aimlessly, as if by the vagaries of chance.

 it's a pantser's novel, i concluded halfway through; reading interviews with the author confirmed my suspicion: she'd just sorta begun and went wherever the hell her story took her.

 which.

 you know.

 at nearly 900 pages, with those bloody footnotes—well.

 it took her a hell of a lot of places, i can tell you.

 so i'm unhappy about the superficial structure of the thing; the indulgence of all the unnecessary foolishness and dead-end mini-stories in it; the sense that the hand at the tiller had no idea where this was all going and let's just all find out together, shall we?

 but.

 also.

 really good, really sharp observations on how people work, and what motivates them, and how they fuck themselves up.

 it's just that... it's really grim, too. bcuz humans are grim as fuck.

 so!

 where does that leave me and my review?

 i dunno. it is technically proficient, yet horribly excessive; it is beautifully rendered, but quite mercilessly features the brutal ugliness of the human spirit; it's terribly engaging, yet lasts for ever and ever and ends kinda abruptly.

 with footnotes, naturally.

 if two stars equals 'it was okay,' three equals 'i liked it,' and four equals 'i loved it,' how in the fuck many stars do you give a book you variously liked, loved, and thought was just okay?

 let's find out together.
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546 reviews9,510 followers     September 1, 2015   Sigh, just what we need, another revolutionary, unusual fantasy book by an author with a practiced mastery of tone. When will authors like Clarke realize that what the fantasy genre needs are more pseudo-medieval monomyths that sprawl out into fifteen volumes?Her magic didn't conveniently solve all of the characters' problems, instead, they wasted time thinking through conflicts and then had to solve them by taking action; how dull is that? The magic was weird, anyways. It didn't have a simplistic, internal system to allow it to act as a one-for-one substitute with technology, it was just all unpredictable and otherworldly and unknowable--how can you even call that 'magic'? And the characters were overly-complicated. Instead of acting as recognizable archetypes, they were complex, conflicted, and developed as the story progressed. For some reason, they also seemed hesitant to fall back on the default plan of attacking anything that gets in their way, which was probably why this book was so long. I guess they just didn't have a strong enough sense of honor to instantly kill anyone who opposed them. And then, instead of having her characters laboriously explain how the world worked to each other, she made brief mentions in footnotes, as if she were writing a history. I'm not sure why she made this decision, I often explain to my friends in basic terms how cars and money work in our culture, so it's clear that endless expositionary dialogue is the most realistic way to inform the reader. I mean, I guess you could just have the omniscient narrator tell us everything in detail, that's almost as good. Come to think of it, this book had a lot of history stuff, it was almost like she had read a whole bunch about the period her book was set in, which is such a waste of time, because if that's what I wanted, I'd just read a history book. I mean sure, the author could take some vague things from a period, but otherwise they should just treat everything as if it were the modern day so it'll make sense. Besides, if she had any errors, she could just remind us that 'it's fiction!', so it's all fake anyways and it's pointless to try to make it seem real. I guess she thought she was Jane Austen, or something, gradually building a tonal portrait of the world and revealing the characters through details of action and conversation. I don't know why she would try to write like those boring, old, dead authors, they wouldn't have to make us read them in school if they were good. I should have known it was going to be bad when I saw it had footnotes in it, like a textbook or something, but I tried not to read any of them because I didn't want to accidentally learn some stupid fact (and then be STUCK with it FOREVER), because I'm saving up that brain space to memorize the lineage of the ninth house of the Dragonpriests of Ur, or maybe which incantation can counterspell the splash damage effect of a lesser draconic fireball. So the whole book, I kept waiting for one of the women to be raped (or at the very least threatened with rape), or maybe enslaved, or for someone to be put in a collar and tortured by a woman in leather, or to be spanked in public as part of some cultural ritual, or to walk through flames while spraying breastmilk everywhere, or some other perfectly normal expression of human sexuality, but don't bother waiting, you'll only be disappointed. Really, the only thing that could have made it worse is if it were illustrated by Charles Vess, like the equally hopeless sequel. So yeah, basically this book is WAY TOO LONG! I mean, it was totally worth it for me to read the first five twelve-hundred-page books of the Dragonkingspell Cycle (it starts to get good at book six), but that's nothing compared to how much it tried my patience to read this book. I probably wouldn't have been able to finish it if I didn't need something to read while waiting twelve years for Jeb R.R.R. Franzibald to finish book seven. But I guess if you like a well-researched, historically accurate book that doesn't tell the same, familiar story, doesn't use magic as a plot facilitator, reads like a Gothic novel, slowly builds the story based on psychologically-developed characters, and is obsessed with tone, then this is the book for you! Congratulations. Otherwise, you can sit around with me and hope the author of our favorite series doesn't die before finishing vol. XVIII of The Epic Magic Sword of the Undead Dragon Throne Saga Duovigintilogy, where we will finally discover whether the badass, outcast, swordmaster, dragonrider assassin prince defeats the great evil, once and for all (with the help of his trusty albino wolf/girlfriend, of course).  My Fantasy Book Suggestions      fantasy favorites novel               878 reviews3,958 followers     June 20, 2007   Without a doubt the best book I have read this year. I write that without hesitation and with a beaming smile on my face. Incredible. Enthralling. Amazing. The book was over 800 pages long and it did not seem long enough. When I finished the book, I immediately turned out the light and tried to drift off to sleep, because I knew nothing else I did that night was going to top the feeling I got after blowing through the last 100 pages like a madwoman. I want to start it over again, immediately.The book is like reading Dickens, with the dialogue of Jane Austen, and the best writing of every classic fantasy I've read. All at once. Clarke manages to pay her homage while being entirely original herself. And the pages just keep turning and turning. You almost don't notice as 200 pages go by in less than two hours. This is a book to devour. Again, and again, and again. For those who have never been interested in the fantasy genre before, do not be put off. It's not even about the fantasy, though of course it is a major presence and the plot focuses around it. History geeks: There are three delightful, hilarious appearances by Wellington, George III and Lord Byron, as well as various Cabinet ministers of the time period. The prose is wonderful, dead-on. Clarke has the ability to shift seamlessly from witty, sarcastic, detached prose and dialogue in the style of Jane Austen or Oscar Wilde:  "These ladies and gentlemen, visitors to the city of Venice, were excessively pleased with the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. They thought the facades of the houses very magnificent- they could not praise them highly enough. But the sad decay which buildings, bridges and church all displayed seemed to charm them even more. They were Englishmen and, to them, the decline of other nations was the most natural thing in the world. They belonged to a race so blessed with so sensitive an appreciation of its own talents (and so doubtful an opinion of any body else's) that they would not have been at all surprised to learn that the Venetians themselves had been entirely ignorant of the merits of their own city- until Englishmen had come to tell them it was delightful."  ... and then shift into lines that would do any fantasy author proud: "Spring returned to England. Birds followed ploughs. Stones were warmed by the sun. Rains and winds grew softer, and were fragranced by the scents of the earth and growing things. Woods were tinged with a colour so soft, so subtle that it could scarcely be said to be a colour at all. It was more the /idea/ of a colour- as if the trees were dreaming green dreams or thinking green thoughts."  Those quotes don't do it justice, they were just ones my eyes came across when I randomly opened pages. The writing is just beyond fantastic, to say the least.  That, on top of an intriguing, well developed, /incredibly/ well researched portrait of England at the time of the Napoleonic wars? It manages to cover all the major areas that British literature is known for, all at once, in one book, and do them all justice. Clarke is also able to touch on a lot of serious issues that were present in England at the time: (racial relations, the problems of a hereditary ruling class..) She makes you aware of them as a background, but doesn't push them in your face. It's just another way she's able to make her evocation of the time period that much more perfect. ... I should perhaps have written this review with a greater distance from finishing the novel. But I think I'm justified in doing it now, if only to give an idea of the kind of amazing feeling that the book gives you from reading it and finishing it. Books like this are why I love literature. Read it. End of story. (... finally.)     21st-century brit-lit fantasy-and-scifi               65 reviews75 followers     July 14, 2007   I so wanted to like this book. The idea is just wonderful. I was so pleased for a while to be in that world, a historical England. I love the dialogue and descriptions. And I love the idea of magic in an otherwise real setting, as though it were a normal part of our actual world. But it was so frustrating to read after a while. The footnotes, auuuugh, the footnotes. They were cute at first, because the book is written sort of like a history book from that period. But after a while they were just so long and so unrelated to the main story that they became seriously cumbersome. And just when the story would be getting involved, she'd fast forward 2 years or 10 years and the last part of the story, though unresolved, would be pretty much forgotten. Boooo! The end was annoying, or rather the way the main characters reacted to it. It's fiction, it's fantasy, but when you're writing about basic human beings who have otherwise behaved consistently throughout the book, and then they react to something in a way you know isn't consistent and isn't how people would act, it pops the bubble of your suspended disbelief and sort of ruins the story. Another annoying thing is that we keep waiting to learn more about why Mr. Norrell acts the way he does, but we never do learn. He's just a pill and that's it. That's poor writing, No motivations for him, no insight into his character. So really he just serves a function in the book that could have been served by an inanimate object. Overall the book is just filled with too many things that seem to have no point. It's not that they aren't interesting by themselves or couldn't have been made into something wonderful, it's just that they are tossed out there randomly and not connected to anything. In that way, the cold, dispassionate history book style disappoints, because what we really want is a story. We want to care about the characters and see resolution of some kind. Booo! There will apparently be more books set in this world, but I won't be reading them. It's just too much of a time investment in a seemingly great idea that doesn't pay off.                   8 reviews52 followers     August 31, 2015   Although Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell turns out to be a book I dearly love, I'm afraid I can't recommend it to just anyone. Whether you'll like it or not will truly depend on what you expect it to be. If you wish for a fast-paced excitement then this book is probably not for you. Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell is a blend of meticulously researched historical fiction and imaginative fantasy, sprinkled here and there with biting social comedy, and written in a style similar to Austen's, which is, of course, relevant to the age in which the story takes place, the early years of 19th century England. The plot mainly focuses in the revival of magic in England, an art that has been long fallen into disuse but still theoretically studied by many. Among these people two gentlemen who actually practise the art come into the spotlight: the tedious, reclusive Gilbert Norrell and his pupil Jonathan Strange. The story further unfurls with the appearance of a certain silver-haired fairy, Norrell's and Strange's involvements in the Napoleonic Wars, and also the revelation of the prophecy of The Raven King in all its mythical grandeur.JS &amp; MN is a long, meandering read that needs to be slowly savored, not to be rushed. I started reading it feeling a little bit wary myself,the first hundred pages being undeniably dragging. But I soon came to a certain point where something just clicked, and from there on it was almost impossible to put it down. This book is over 1000 pages long, and yet, as I close the book in completion, I asked myself of how 1000 pages could seemingly be so terribly short. For me, who end up liking this book, JS &amp; MN is a true charmer, compelling in all its subtlety, imaginative, witty and beautifully written. Clarke has a flair in language use. She employs the right words at all the right moments to make us feel exactly what she intends us to feel, and see exactly what she wants us to see. With this ability at hands she creates a fine balance of myths, magic, history, warfare, politic and mundane domestic life. Clarke treats magic as an object of study in the truest sense. Some parts of the book read like an academic essay, with long studious arguments of why such and such magic can or cannot be done, various citations from the works of great magicians long dead, and insanely lengthy footnotes (which people ever so often think as annoying distractions, yet I found them really fun to read). She also has a perfect grasp about the age in which her characters are living. Thus her writing comes off convincingly like a product of 19th century British literature (though it has the virtue of being more comprehensible), perfectly written with all the old spellings: chuse, sopha, shew, surprize.  Clarke's characterization is definitely one of the best elements in the book. The characters, be it the main protagonists or otherwise, are solidly drawn and interesting, as lovable as they are flawed. Strange, though not someone who is altogether admirable, is charming and generally more likable, and yet narrow-minded Norrell, with all his jealousy and peevishness, feels all too human that I couldn't help but sympathise with him even when I didn't want to. A literary merit though this book is, please be warned that not everyone will find it fascinating. If you're halfway through the book and it still doesn't pique your interest, put it down then, save your precious time. But if you're halfway through and already been absorbed it's very likely you'll be graced with something that stays with you days and weeks after you finished reading it. I know it did this for me. Definitely one of those rare treats I'd be willingly and gladly re-read each year.     fantasy               1,880 reviews22.6k followers     May 18, 2020    $1.99 Kindle sale, May 18, 2020. I adore and highly recommend this Regency-era fantasy but it definitely isn't everyone's cuppa tea! The bad: It's a doorstopper of a novel, very long and very slow-paced. The good: It's absolutely brilliant, filled with intricate details, REALLY creative. Give it a shot!Adventures in reading Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell with my real-life book club (also posted on Fantasy Literature):  Tadiana: This book is like a mashup of Jane Austen, or maybe Charles Dickens, and fantasy, with Regency-era British magicians and charming, vindictive and devious faeries. It creates an incredibly rich, complex and detailed fantasy world; the Raven King mythology is fantastic. The main plotline of this novel deals with the on-and-off friendship between two very different magicians: Mr Norrell, who is bookish, stuffy and reclusive, and Jonathan Strange, who's a younger, charming and impetuous person, and their dealings and troubles with Faerie and other magical places and characters, but there are several subplots intricately woven into this tale. It thoughtfully explores some interesting issues that you wouldn't expect, like the difficulties women, servants and minorities have had in making their voices heard. This is a truly unique and inventive novel. It challenged my brain and fascinated me. I adored it.  Rest of book club: This book is soooo long. Aaand kind of confusing, not to mention slow and boring.   Tadiana: I love the dry humor. The tongue-in-cheek quasi-scholarly footnotes totally crack me up.  Rest of book club: Seriously, what is the deal with those bizarre footnotes? They're just weird.  Tadiana: Imma buy this in hardback and keep it forever.  Rest of book club: DNF      book-club-reads fantasy favorites               53 reviews13 followers     December 25, 2007   Jesus Christ, this book reads like molasses. It's like the author took every book from her Brit Lit class and consciously tried to make it wordier and longer than all of them combined. I get the point she wants to make, but I honestly could not get past the second chapter. It also was so incredibly pretentious. The whole thing has this superior feel, like having a conversation with someone who is absolutely reassured of how much smarter they are than you. It left me feeling bored, stupid, depressed and confused, and those are four words that I do not like to associate with reading. If you really want to plow through a novel like this, just go read some  Charles Dickens. You get used to him after a few pages and you start to like him after the first chapter. Clarke, however, never redeems herself.                   1,105 reviews44.2k followers     March 8, 2016   Book like this are not written anymore. This feels like it should have been published in the nineteenth century and not because of the obvious setting, but because of the remarkable writing style. It is very similar to Austen’s that I’m sure she might have been delighted by Clarke’s work. Well, maybe. But, either way novelists like this do not exist in this age, unfortunately. The writing has the feel of a classic, but the plot has the feel of a thoroughly charming fantasy.   This is a work of complete magical genius     Indeed, she has written it in the pastiche style of Jane Austen and Charles Dickens; she has used their language style, narrative techniques and masterful characterisations to create a novel that is a superb work of fantasy. If Austen or Dickens strayed away from their realism novels then this is what it could look like. Susanna Clarke is an absolute wonderful writer. I wish there were more writers like her. Words, literally, cannot express my reverence for this novel: I simply adore it.  The plot is incredible. Imagine an England in the nineteenth century, not much unlike the real one, that is prosperous, full of gentleman and completely devoid of all magic and fantasy: it reeks of realism. The inhabitants are offended by the idea of magic being reputable; the very thought is inconceivable. Magic is not respectable because the streets are infested with street performers and fakes that claim to do magic. There are also theoretical magicians who merely study its principals and have never succeeded in the practical side. However, there is one man in England who has spent the last forty years buried under a pile of books. His name is Mr Norrell, and he is the greatest magician of the age.    A friendship of necessity     Norrell is a bibliophile; he is a book hoarder and is quite possible the biggest bookworm that has ever lived. (I give him a silent bow.) He has devised his own system of magic that is reputable and gentleman like: it is modern magic. He keeps his perilous, and beloved, tomes to himself. He fears that such deadly books will be misused, but he also wants to be the only man in England that knows their secrets. Behind his mask of propriety and professionalism there is a soul that longs for the ancient magic that he detest so vehemently. This magic is powered by fate, and demands that two magicians, not one, must restore magic to dreary old England.   “I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment.”  The second magician is called Johnathan Strange, and he becomes Norrell’s pupil much to the old man’s delight and dismay. Where Norrell is cautious, studious, and self-conceiting Strange is reckless, open to new knowledge and practical. He is eager to push the boundaries of his tutors limited approach to magic; he is eager to use the magic Norrel detests. He fights in the Napoleonic war to bring magic into high repute whereas his tutor stays in his library doing weather magic to dog the French. Strange is young and energetic, but he also is practical to the needs of his country.   “Can a magician kill a man by magic?” Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. “I suppose a magician might,” he admitted, “but a gentleman never would.”  It is no wonder then that England prefers Strange to his tutor. However, only with his mentor can Strange attempt to restore English magic. The two are complete opposites, and only side by side can the opposing magicians restore magic to a dreary and bleak England: only together can they bring back the Raven King. The relationship between the two men, for me, really elevated this novel to the next level. They begin as student and tutor, but end up as equals. The dynamics change between the two as student outshines tutor, and threatens to destroy everything he represents.   Authenticity     I think by setting this is an England that is realistic, and very true to the actual one, Clarke pulls at the heart strings of many a reader. I think this has affected so many readers for the same reason the  Harry Potter series did. Clarke, like Rowling, shows us a world that is dry and boring; it is infested by those that have no affinity for magic. Then underneath it all they both reveal worlds that are enchanting and magical. Indeed, most people long for a sense of the fantastic and escape from the mundane realism that is their life. Well, at least I do. Clarke, like Rowling, offers a glimpse of a world that is like our own, only better.  Moreover, the footnotes and magical text references, used by Clarke, help to add further weight to this feeling. These make the novel seem academic, and reflect the age in which it was set, they give a sense of actuality behind the fantastical. Some of the footnotes are huge, and they do interrupt the narrative. However, this is a more effective means of delivery the history of such a beautiful world than, for example, having the characters reproduce is verbatim in speech. I think it’s a much less awkward way, and creates the sense that this world could exist, should exist.  In addition to this, the structure of the novel reflects the age in which it represents. The novel is divided into three volumes, and towards the end Clarke utilises the hugely popular, and utterly brilliant, epistolary means of storytelling. Both demonstrate a norm of novel writing in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which reflects the novel structure associated with the time. The language Clarke uses is akin to the wonderful Jane Austen, and the underline sarcasm, like in Austen’s works, is apparent. Indeed, Clarke continuously mocks Napoleon Bonaparte; I disagree with her assessment of him, however, the opinion she wields reflects that of the English at the time, so in a sense it enhances the feeling afore mentioned.    I adore this book   This book is simply brilliant. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to articulate exactly how wonderful it is. If I had magic I could show you, but, alas, I am a mere theoretical magician. Seriously though, I get emotional when I think about the sheer excellence of this book; I’ve read this twice now and in all honesty I can say that I immediately want to read it again. Strange and Norrel are two of the most interesting, and well written, characters I’ve ever read about. They are both right in their arguments, and both wrong. It’s such a unique and memorable relationship.   “There is nothing else in magic but the wild thought of the bird as it casts itself into the void. There is no creature upon the earth with such potential for magic. Even the least of them may fly straight out of this world and come by chance to the Other Lands. Where does the wind come from that blows upon your face, that fans the pages of your book? Where the harum-scarum magic of small wild creatures meets the magic of Man, where the language of the wind and the rain and the trees can be understood, there we will find the Raven King.”  I could only ever give this book five stars, I’d give it more if I could.  Bravo Susanna Clarke!  This book has quite literally floored me. If anybody takes a single recommendation of mine remotely seriously, then take this one because this novel is incredible!        5-star-reads fantasy magical-realism               2,166 reviews9,118 followers     July 17, 2012   If a novel of nearly 900 pages can be summarised in one phrase then Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell may, I think, be described as a stately, sly, witty, intricate, comic retelling of Dracula, with digressions and very little blood. Count Dracula takes life from beautiful young ladies, enslaves them, enchants them, enraptures them, steals them away, into his own twilight (oops, sorry) vampire world – they become something other than what they were, undead, not alive yet not dead, creatures which do his bidding (the company I work for does something quite similar so it appears to be legal). In Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell, a fairy does exactly the same thing, but there's no blood involved, just a little magic. In Dracula it takes quite a while before the heroes realise what’s happening to their gorgeous young women (in both books the gorgeousness is emphasised, I do like that, you know, since they're imaginary why can't they be drop dead too? hmm, probably the wrong phrase). But compared with Mr Strange and Mr Norrell, the Dracula boys are quick on the uptake. Because we’re past page 600 before the penny drops in this one.  THE ARBITRARINESS OF MAGIC One of my problems with this giant enfolding fog of a book is the nature of magic itself. In Dracula Van Helsing lays out the rules about vampires for the readers – they can do this but they can’t do that; sunlight, shape-shifting; silver; crosses; all of that. He later wrote the Observer Book of Vampires (Heinemann, 1911) and it's all in there. The rules are the rules. Many young leary vampires have been struck off for thinking that they were too cool for rules.  Governing committee : You were seen buying maximum factor sunblock in Superdrug three Saturdays in a row. Young cool vampire : Yeah well, my girlfriend wants me to go camping with her family next week. Governing committee : Under section 3 subsection 2 paragraph B I hereby strike you off the official list of vampires. YCV : But but GC : Beat it, kid, don't waste our time. This is a serious business.  But there are no rules for magic - at least, none discernable. The rule seems to be - sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Mr Strange goes to war to help the English fight Napoleon Boney. In Portugal he is able to create good roads where only mud tracks exist for the English Army to march down. Later he is able to make magical hands arise from the earth and entangle the French troops; but he doesn’t do any magic to prevent the English troops being massacred by cannonballs and artillery – what, no magical winds available to blow the cannonballs off course? But pardon, Mr Strange, elsewhere don’t you say that weather magic is the easiest sort to do? So whyever not? Well, we are not told. He never thinks of doing it, never thinks of alleviating the English troops’ suffering. Susanna Clark says in an interview that she wished to show that people’s romantic or over-optimistic notions of magic were to be disappointed by the unsatisfactoriness of her version of magic. I take that argument, it’s a good one, but it does not solve the difficulty of arbitrariness and the lack of any rules or boundaries.When anything can happen, and then at some other point, for unknown reasons, the same thing can’t happen, the element of tension simply disappears in a cloud of smoke – poof! As if by magic.  BIPOLARITY I thought that the villain in this novel was certainly suffering from undiagnosed bipolar disorder. Alas that the story took place in the 1810s, when mood stabilising medication had not yet been developed. If the gentleman with the thistledown hair had been prescribed Carbamazepine, Lamotrigine or Lithium I am quite sure the whole thing with the ladies would have never happened and the misunderstanding and antagonisms between him and the two magicians would never have arisen in the first place.  STYLE It has been said this novel is like Dickens. It is not. Those who say that have not read Dickens. Do not believe them.It is said that this novel is like Jane Austen. Okay, with your left eye closed and your right eye squinched up and tilting the novel at a slight angle, then yes, it is. But don’t say it too loudly or Jane Austen fans might beat you lightly with their lace doileys. PACING The good news : the story definitely picks up around page 650. That is the good news. SHOULD YOU READ THIS BOOK? For readers thinking about giving this one a go , you should know a few things. Half of this novel is quite a bit longer than most other novels, so unless you like slow, laborious build-ups (this is not the magical equivalent of Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill), intricate fake-scholarly footnotes recounting mad details about non-existent books, people, folk-tales, all pseudo-erudite tomfoolery calculated to flesh out the magical world whilst at the same time giving the reader many large winks along the lines “aren’t we having some scholarly fun? Isn’t this a thinking person’s hoot?”; unless you like many pages spent fretting about whether Mr Norrell will lend Mr Strange a particular book (this will-he won’t-he theme gets a little tiresome, so I’ll let you know – big plot spoiler - he doesn’t – now you can skip those bits); unless you like your reading to be languid, leisurely, luxurious, learned, leavened with loopy legerdemain and long, long, long, this may not be the one for you.     modernvictorian novels               1,510 reviews7,616 followers     December 2, 2014   In the beginning was a preface, and then an introduction, followed by some exposition, and then an opening. Looking through the reviews, it appears many people either adore it or hate it. Frankly, I'm in neither camp, because I can't work up enough emotion to care. It took a long time to become interested, and I finally had to resort to a strategy of reading only a few chapters at a time, setting free any expectation that this was a book that would pull me in and never let me go. It became the perfect book to read before bed, a non-habit forming Ambien that avoided unpleasant dreams while lulling me into sleep. The language and structure of the tale is a formidable barrier to easy enjoyment; this is Great Expectations, the original, uncut director's copy, thick enough in mass market paperback to soak with water and turn into a paper-mache brick. The final obstacle to delight is the general distastefulness of Mr. Norrell. This is improved somewhat when Jonathan Strange enters the tale, and for a while I was able to read without Mr. Sandman paying a visit. I found much of the tale to be philosophizing about the character of England, and the distinctions between the north and the south tedious as they are somewhat non-accessible and lack relevance to the non-English. In some ways, I suspect the cultural conflict might resemble American regional conflicts, but it takes a talented author to make the conflict relevant across oceans and time. I understand Clarke is doing; I just lack interest in the subject matter, so the voice starts to sound a lot like the adults in Charlie Brown.  Muhua wa wa...   Unfortunately, the writing style and its take on various popular Victorian styles is monotonous for me. Although I enjoy the 19th century British mysteries, and Wodehousian humor, Clarke has neither the tightly woven mystery nor the snappy dialogue that keeps me interested in those forms. When it comes to writing style, I can see why some people would find her writing interesting, especially if they are fans of the time period; it just fails to resonate for me in the way it is presented. The footnotes are occasionally amusing as they frequently contain opinionated commentary. I read recently that Clarke wrote the story in "bundles" and ended up working at fitting them together. In retrospect, this might explain some of the jumps in plotting and setting, and account for the way plots were set down and then picked up a hundred pages later. I was pleased to discover the magical or supernatural elements play a larger role than I expected from reading other reviews. One of the characters and plotlines I struggled with was that of the "white-haired gentleman." While it certainly brought magical elements to the story, I felt like he was a distraction and never fully woven into the plot. His obsession with Stephen, was particularly odd, and I never felt like I understood it's connection to Norrell and Strange. Clarke does sprinkle gentle humor throughout the story that occasionally caused twitters or giggles. One of the first lines to make me laugh: "He was so clean and healthy and pleased about everything that he positively shone--which is only to be expected in a fairy or an angel but is somewhat disconcerting in an attorney." Cross posted at http://clsiewert.wordpress.com/2013/0...      awards classic fantasy               1,849 reviews16.4k followers     February 5, 2019   If a writer is going to publish a book this big (thousand plus pages) then it must be very good, or the readers will never know about the thousands plus pages beyond the heft as they toss it aside or by the thickness as it is put back on the shelf.This book is that good. Using language correct for the time period (Napoleonic Wards era, early 1800s) and richly complex characterizations reminiscent of Jane Austen or Charles Dickens, author Susanna Clarke has crafted a gem. It was the winner of and nominated for a host of awards like the Hugo, the Man Booker, Nebula, Locus, Guardian First Book, World Fantasy, Mythopoeic Fantasy, Book Sense and Cena Akademie SFFH. High accolades all and topped off with a gushing quote from none other than Neil Gaiman, who said: "Unquestionably the finest English novel of the fantastic written in the last seventy years." So what is all the fuss about? Clarke has created an alternate history where magic is an excepted and realized fact of English history and life. In this reality, a magician king had ruled Northern England for centuries and then disappeared, and two unassuming and scholarly types go their own way in trying to restore magic to England. To create a surprisingly seamless magical (pun intended) realism, Clarke employed the inclusion of or reference to the following: Francisco Goya, Frances Burney, William Beckford, Monk Lewis, Lord Byron, and Ann Radcliffe; publisher John Murray; politicians Lord Castlereagh and George Canning; the Duke of Wellington and the crazy as a Marsh Hare, King George III. All that and an unnamed faerie king with issues. I will admit here that I went to Wikipedia and searched for the Raven King and John Uskglass and felt like an idiot when I realized she had landed me hook, line and sinker. A brilliant work and a must read for fans of the fantasy genre.                     507 reviews757 followers     May 28, 2016   Neil Gaiman said that this book is "hard to overpraise", I will make an attempt thus:While I was reading the second half of this book it occurred to me that I don't actually need to read any other novel ever again, I could just read this one book over and over again for the rest of my days and when the Grim Reaper calls I shall have this book clutched possessively in my stiff, unyielding fingers. Momentary insanity of course, but it is indicative of the devotion I feel toward this book. With in the first page or two I was already feeling very friendly toward this book because of the prose. Ms. Clarke seems to be channelling Jane Austen by way of Oscar Wilde, P.G. Wodehouse, Hans Christian Andersen, with some dark sprinkles of Poe and Lovecraft. I grew increasingly fond of the book page by page until I was ready to put it on a pedestal and worship it by the time I reached in end.  The basic outline of the story is that it concerns the titular Jonathan and Mr. Norrell. Mr Norway brings magic back to England, takes on Mr. strange as his pupil, the two gentlemen later become rivals. Their interrelationship is the backbone of this long book that features wonderful characters, humour, sadness, heroism, redemption and magic, not to mention non-stop dancing and cameos by Napoleon Bonaparte Lord Byron and crazy King George III. Normally when I read a long book of more than 700 pages in length I like to pause at about half way through, pick up a shorter book to read to the finish and go back to the long book. For me it helps to relieve the impatience from spending so much time with just one book. However, with this book* it is impossible, I could not extricate myself from it. I am a slowish reader and I spent about two weeks living and breathing this book and now that I have finish it I feel a little disoriented. Also, I tend to feel more comfortable reading SF than fantasy, the problem I personally have with a lot of fantasy is suspension of disbelief when magic manifests in some way. The pacing of this book is so perfect and the magic so skillfully and gradually woven into the story that I no problem throwing disbelief out the window and just settle down and immerse into this magical version of England. Overpraise this book? Impossible!_______________________* I read the Kindle edition, the footnotes are hypertext links that jump to the back of the book (after the novel is ended), I had to ensure that I bookmark the page before I click on any footnote otherwise it would have been difficult to find my way back.  Footnotes(!) • A footnote about the footnotes. I am tempted to knock off one star for the over abundance of footnotes, I am personally not keen on them as they interrupt the flow of the story for me. However, it would be ill-bred of me to use my own preferences as the standard for quality assessment. The fact is that lots of people like them and I think that justify their existence; not to mention that they are as beautifully written as the main body of the book. It is also worth mentioning that you can skip them entirely and still follow the story without missing a beat. I skimmed them and I intend to go back to read them all. Besides, this book deserves at least a billion stars rating and Goodreads can only cope with five, so if I did knock off one star nobody would notice. • Have a look at Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell fan arts at Deviant Art. A wiki devoted to this book is also available for in-depth info._______________________________ Update June 2015:• Neil Gaiman: Why I love Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell  • Susanna Clarke  on the TV Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell: ‘My own characters were walking about!’  • I love the BBC adaptation. The AV Club's reviews here. • According to Wikipedia Susanna Clarke is working on another book set in the Strange &amp; Norrell universe (so the word sequel may be inappropriate). Don't hold your breath waiting for it though because it took her ten years to write Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell by the time she publishes this second novel there may be flying cars and hoverboards on the street.     fantasy-top20 top-20               719 reviews11.4k followers     November 26, 2022   I suppose whether you love this book or hate it will depend on how you feel about 19th century novels. In Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr Norrell Susanna Clarke decided to emulate the style, the pace and the vocabulary/orthography of that time in a way that would have made Charles Dickens proud. It’s a period piece with magic, I suppose. But you see, I enjoy some 19th century novels *despite* them being such, not *because* of it.   
 
 Once I got past all the “chuse” (!), “shewed”(!!!) and “sopha” (!!!) iterations, I still had to try to process the glacial pace and meandering nature of the story — and although I’m very partial to meanderings of Stephen King, here I just wanted so badly to get to any kind of a point, hoping for an editor’s red pen to trim some of the vignettes and descriptions. The heavy reliance on period-appropriate tell-not-show, the distasteful and often dull characters that built up my irritation (Norrell has a special place in boring hell), and the general slow monotony of the narrative — all that kept me at a distance, never allowing me to engage with the story.  If not for sheer stubbornness and terminal ability to DNF I would have not cared to keep picking it up. (Yup, I know, it’s a problem; shut up!)  It must be what getting stuck in a bog feel like. You can’t get out even if you’re not a fan of the experience.  
 
 Had the 500 pages of bloat been cut out of this kitten-squisher, it could have been pretty great. And yes, about 80% of those unnecessary footnotes would have to go, too, since most of them were just extra filler (yeah, Clarke needed to learn from Pratchett on how to do it right). But despite all the room for bloat quite a few bits that would have made better sense to include were left on the cutting-room floor, apparently, leading to the jarring cuts among the bloat.  Not to say there weren’t moments of brilliance — Mr Strange going to war was witty and funny, and Stephen in the end was amazing — but these were few and far in between, and ultimately just not enough. This book tired me out and left me cold.  2 stars (sorry, Nastya, I tried). To see Clarke get to the point much faster, try Piranesi. ——————— (I was undecided on the final rating for this one until I just watched “12 Angry Men” and saw how easily a story can be told simply and concisely, with zero bloat. And that cemented my feelings about this 1000-pages kitten-squisher.)  —————— Also posted on my blog.     2022-reads hugo-nebula-nominees-and-winners inspired-by-nastya               1,623 reviews4,967 followers     March 14, 2016   the hero of this novel, Mr. Norrell, is in many ways a stranger in a strange land, uncomfortable with base emotions and disappointed with the shabbiness and inadequacies of others... yet always yearning for true companionship. a dignified, erudite, and refined gentleman; quietly soulful and elegantly restrained; commanding in his encyclopedic knowledge of the magical arts. the other character, a fey and unreliable sort apparently named "Jonathan Strange", offers fleeting friendship that is quickly frittered away in tawdry misadventure, misplaced romance, and other assorted bits of ill-conceived and juvenile tomfoolery, often abroad, often with a host of questionable characters. even worse, Strange's nascent addictive personality rears its dark dark head, causing all sorts of trouble with various dire characters that were once thought lost in history. fortunately, Mr. Norrell is a stalwart and brave ally, and his careful guidance soon sets things in their natural order - no thanks to the whimsical and unreliable Strange. *** an awesome book, one of my favorites. the comparisons with Austen &amp; Dickens have been made repeatedly; i agree. it almost seems silly to review this - it is like some kind of immense edifice, some giant piece of art, or something, that folks should just experience rather than read about. the pacing moves from snail-like and digressive to hallucinatory and lightning fast. the characters are wonderfully complicated. the magic is fascinating. the whole thing is smart and funny and melancholy and charming and just brilliant. plus the footnotes: fantastic! this is a huge novel but i wasn't bored for a second. i hope this never becomes a movie.     alpha-team fog-and-gears secret-histories               Author  64 books167k followers     June 18, 2008   This slow burn historical fantasy (it really isn't a proper historical fantasy -- it's really told much more as a straight historical and the fantasy is bonus) is one of the best novels I've read -- ever. Clarke never breaks voice or changes her slow, relentless pacing. It's a novel meant to be savored over the course of a month, not rushed through -- so that you can properly appreciate the rush of the climax.***wondering why all my reviews are five stars? Because I'm only reviewing my favorite books -- not every book I read. Consider a novel's presence on my Goodreads bookshelf as a hearty endorsement. I can't believe I just said "hearty." It sounds like a stew.****     recommended               1,219 reviews8,711 followers     December 24, 2015   This book was a chore! While I liked the story, the writing style was not enjoyable at all for me. Also, I am not really sure why everything happened, what exactly happened, and why it took so many words and pages to tell this story.It started at 5 stars and, as I trudged through the book, there was a slow leak of stars as my interest started to wane. That leak stopped at 2 stars.     2015 at-home-reading completist-book-club               2,494 reviews30.2k followers     September 7, 2022   oof. okay. this just wasnt for me. its no doubt a feat of a book with evident effort and meticulous detail, but its just not something i really enjoyed reading. i personally struggle with 19th century literature so, with this being a pastiche of that time periods writing style, themes, and literary devices, i never fully got into this. i think the concept is interesting, so had the narrative been written in a more modern style, my feelings would probably be totally different.  so objectively well-written, but just not my cup of tea. the illustrations were cute, though!  ↠ 2.5 stars                     473 reviews2,513 followers     January 22, 2022    Lifeless After finishing, Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, the overwhelming feeling was a sense of relief and then puzzlement that I committed so much time to read this. I found the book a great disappointment on various levels, and for once, I have to say that the TV production was so much better than the novel.The characters were generally uninteresting, including the two main protagonists. The story's timing occurred when magic again surfaced in England, and magicians were unsure of their power. Mr Norell is an academic rather drab character intent on learning his craft from books and manuscripts. His arrogance wants him to be considered England's only legitimate magician. Jonathan Strange is more a practical magician and lends a hand in fighting Napolean. His magic seems almost whimsical, and the English soldiers still die in huge numbers. The plot is so weak that the involvement with the Napoleonic Wars didn't generate much interest. It was all very flat. What can be said is that the detail of the surroundings and story are considerable - even with footnotes to describe minutiae. The setting was okay, and I did feel that the atmosphere of early 19th century England came through well. I am surprised this book received its praises, and I can only assume that the story's context was a big draw. We all want to believe that magic exists and that somewhere a magician is just waiting to develop the skills handed down from Merlin. If that was to happen, I can only hope that it's NOT to someone like Strange or Norrell and that there would be a superb plot of twists and surprises, with captivating characters to bring it all to life. I might have been tempted to consider a higher rating if it had not been so long. The length is a problem in a story that drifts at such a slow pace, with details I couldn't care less about. If stories can affect the heart rate from high intensity to resting, then this will set the heart rate to coma.     fantasy literary-fiction               448 reviews3,222 followers     November 16, 2019   In the early part of the nineteenth -century there arose in northern England ( well one by the border of Wales) two powerful magicians, old bookworm Gilbert Norrell of Hurtfew Abbey, always reading in his immense dark library, obscure ancient dusty books on the subject that he cares only about, magic and young tall Jonathan Strange, who inherited like his future short friend, tutor and rival Mr. Norrell, (not interested then, in wizardry) a vast amount of property and money. Around the city of York magic flourished, both resided in small villages many miles from the unknown other, Mr. Strange is quite different from the mysterious recluse Gilbert, no books of the supernatural, soon to be married likes to get out of his house, (Ashfair) mingle with people, have fun and live...In the Fall (Autumn) of 1806, a society of magicians in York met every week in a rundown inn and discussing, ( sometimes tempers flare) what else magic, that they were amateurs and couldn't do any spells didn't matter, passion was the only importance . Sending letters to the private Mr.Norrell after discovering he was the true article, a practicing, accomplished man in the fine art of conjuring, asking him to appear at their next meeting he declines, they write back a disrespectful note; a contract is drawn up, the angry magician does show his skill in the city's Cathedral, only his servant John Childermass is present, the frightened society of not able men see stones move, they quickly disband as the agreement stated... The bored Mr.Strange doesn't know what should be his profession, his would be fiancee Arabella, is anxious to know before consenting to marry him, nothing interest the rich man except an unusual, vague liking of magic... and the weird thing is he's good at it. Newspaper stories about this incident at the church makes Mr.Norrell famous in London, he travels there yet it takes many parties and gatherings to reach his goal, he has a few friends to tell him what is required , time passes by, finally meeting influential government officials, after bringing back a dead woman to life, he can be useful to the authorities in fighting Napoleon...making phantom ships that scare the French. Naturally Jonathan Strange wants to talk to the great Mr.Norrell, visits him in the capital and impressed by his abilities, the famous enchanter makes Jonathan his pupil, but of course they get on each others nerves. And still an almighty odd, evil spirit a faerie, much more fearsome than either of the magicians, lurks about bringing death and destruction everywhere. ..The government takes the young man to Portugal to help the Duke of Wellington, (at first not taken seriously, by the unruffled general ) fight the French invaders, crisscrossing that nation and Spain also, fixing roads confusing the enemy changing the course of rivers, the bloody battles go on year after bloody year, he Mr.Strange becomes immune to the carnage...This fantasy an alternative history of Britain, is a wonderful fable for anyone interested in magic, makes it seem that it really exist nevertheless, will entertain and bring pure joy to those people the grateful readers, that want to be intrigued.                  1,287 reviews120k followers     June 5, 2016   After a hiatus of several centuries since it was actively practiced, magic is back in early 19th century England. Clarke has created an alternate, magical history, in which England had once been divided between north and south, and a temporal and a fairy kingdom. Stuffy intellectuals satisfy themselves with studying the writings of the past, forming debating societies. But in 1807 a person emerges who dares to actually practice magic.    Eddie Marsden as Mr Norrell - from AMC networks Mr Norrell is an arrogant fellow, convinced not only that he is the only decent practical magician in England, but that it would be best if he were the only one allowed to practice at all. He proceeds to play politics to sustain, increase and legitimize his monopoly. The emergence of a second practical magician presents a challenge, solved in the short term by taking on Jonathan Strange as a student.    Bertie Carvel as Jonathan Strange  Both magicians want to use their talent for the good of their country, and perform amusing and not so amusing spells on the French enemy. Ultimately they are faced with the growing emergence of a real, powerful, underlying magical realm. It intrudes on their lives and forces them to confront darkness while trying to master the unsuspected reality.     Marc Warren as “The Gentleman”  The book has a wonderful pretext, and the tale is told in a straight style, with more than a few touches of humor. It offers a look at how the new use the machinery of government to create a sinecure, how a need to impress can lead to corruption. It is fun to read, but does take quite a long time, and has sections in which it drags. It should probably have been shorter by a hundred or two hundred pages.    Susanna Clarke - from Minnesota public radio Meanderings are many. In short, or long, it was enjoyable, and is recommended but not to the highest degree. Several award committees disagreed, holding it in significantly higher esteem. JS&amp;MN was not only long-listed for the Man Booker Prize, it was short-listed for several other awards and won, among others, the World Fantasy award for best novel, the British Book Award for best newcomer of the Year, and the Hugo Award.  The TV adaptation was shown beginning (in the USA anyway) in June 2015 Review posted – 10/29/2008Updated and Reposted - 6/19/15 Publication date – 9/30/2004 =============================EXTRA STUFF  I found no personal site for Clarke, nor, FB nor Twitter. Bloomsbury has put up a Facebook page for the book A particularly nifty site organizes people, places, et al, from the book. If you get heavily into the book, this is a must-have resource A nice, soft article on the author visiting the production set   A 2004  interview with Clarke  on the SF site A 2005 interview on Bookslut      fantasy               Author  5 books3,886 followers     November 12, 2018   Re-read, 11/11/18:The only real review for this book is one that fully experiences it from the inside. In other words, take the roads, listen to the rocks, and above all, DON'T TRUST THE FARIES. This was a classic when I first read it and it's just as good on any re-read. That's why I put this in my top-100 list. :) It will stand the test of time. Let's fight with Wellington and defeat Napoleon with magic! Let's get into major trouble, get majorly paranoid, and do it with arrogance and style! Above all, this is a buddy novel that starts really rocky, continues worse, ends in mistrust, and yet, is quintessentially English. In other words, polite and often uplifting. :) Brilliant book. I think it will always be. :)     2018-shelf fantasy top-one-hundred               Author  1 book2,628 followers     September 25, 2021   I loved this. It's rich, wonderful and clever, with fascinating characterisation, world-building and brilliant themes. What a book.                  1,080 reviews2,617 followers     December 19, 2015   I finally finished! My paperback was more than 1,000 pages long, so this is a triumph.  Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr. Norrell is a book that I started out loving, but the middle part dragged so much that I grew impatient for the story to end. I feel so differently about the two halves of the book that I wish I could issue two Goodreads ratings. Let's start with what I liked about this novel. Susanna Clarke has a great imagination and a good sense of humor. The story is set in the early 1800s in England and follows the adventures of two magicians, Mr. Strange and Mr. Norrell. They have different opinions about magic, and while they start out as collaborators, they later become enemies. At different times, both magicians are enlisted to help the British Army and Navy in the Napoleonic Wars. (The extensive battle scenes are what started to drag down the book.) The story also involves a spiteful fairy, who likes to steal people away to his kingdom. The story builds until there is a fateful showdown between the mean fairy and the magicians. There's a lot else going on, but to try and summarize it all would drive me mad. Parts of this book were charming and amusing, and I sometimes smiled while reading, more so in the first half. Clarke's wit has been compared to Jane Austen's, but let's not get carried away, people. I'll grant that it's amusing, and Clarke captured some foibles of human nature. But this wouldn't make my list of things I regularly recommend to fans of Miss Austen. My complaints about the book revolve mostly around its epic, meandering story, which did not have to be 1,000 pages. This book was desperately in need of a tougher editor. Clarke also included lots of footnotes, most of which were too clever by half. I listened to this on audio, and the footnotes were read at the indicated place in the text, but if I had just read the print book I would have quickly grown irritated and skimmed all of them.  My other frustration with this book was how dim-witted Strange and Norrell were. They were ridiculously slow to catch on to what the evil fairy was doing, despite the fact that they were supposed to be clever, powerful magicians. It seemed like the author was dragging out their ignorance in order to lengthen the story, which really didn't need any lengthening. While I do have complaints about this book, I did enjoy a good part of it. These epic novels are so difficult to rate. I think I'll give the first half a 4 and the last half a 3. I'll be generous and rate this a 3.5 rounded up to 4.  Recommended, with caution, to those who like magical stories and British humor.  Favorite Quotes "Can a magician kill a man by magic?" Lord Wellington asked Strange. Strange frowned. He seemed to dislike the question. "I suppose a magician might," he admitted, "but a gentleman never would." "Well, I suppose one ought not to employ a magician and then complain that he does not behave like other people."  "I have a scholar's love of silence and solitude. To sit and pass hour after hour in idle chatter with a roomful of strangers is to me the worst sort of torment." "Houses, like people, are apt to become rather eccentric if left too much on their own; this house was the architectural equivalent of an old gentleman in a worn dressing-gown and torn slippers, who got up and went to bed at odd times of day, and who kept up a continual conversation with friends no one else could see." "Oh! And they read English novels! David! Did you ever look into an English novel? Well, do not trouble yourself. It is nothing but a lot of nonsense about girls with fanciful names getting married."  "The argument he was conducting with his neighbor as to whether the English magician had gone mad because he was a magician, or because he was English."     audiobooks british-charm fantasy               693 reviews3,246 followers      Shelved as 'dnf'  October 8, 2018   Nope, nope, nope. DNF at 68%. The act of reading has become a chore, a sensation that cannot be condoned or perpetuated.It's been six hundred and eighty pages, and this book has yet to enthrall or surprise. The character motives baffle, the fantasy elements are uneven, the tone is dry and the story uneventful. Writing a tome of this magnitude is no small feat, but it's achieved to greater effect by Jonathan Stroud in his marvelous book, The Amulet of Samarkand, which I would leap to recommend while warning bookworms to steer clear of this cumbersome book.     booker-prize-nominee fantasy fiction               337 reviews520 followers     October 21, 2016    Tired of your workaday lives,Need to get away for a while? Come, sit a spell Let Susanna tell you a story.  We go to England in the 1800’s, a time of the Napoleonic Wars, a time when most people believe magic to be dead in England. Jonathan Strange &amp; Mr. Norrell are two magicians attempting, each in their own way, to change that and restore magic to England.  I can admit that it took me a while to find my legs here, acquire my own rhythm with the writing and the story. In many ways this reads like a history lesson... The entire aspect and nature of magic and its history are all carefully and explicitly laid out, fully annotated with historical references that appear as footnotes (which while bitter at first, soon became delicious little bits that nourished and enriched). I came to crave them. Lord Byron and the Duke of Wellington, both, put in an appearance here, casually lending their historical pertinence, as England’s Prime Minister and his cabinet employ the magicians to assist in the battle against Napoleon.   Susanna so deftly describes the two main protagonists, the magicians, so intricately, as to impart an intimate understanding of each of them. As opposite in character as they are in appearance Strange &amp; Norrell command this stage, but along the way they share the spotlight, with a whole cast of others, people, that step right off the page:  The man extracted himself from the hedge. This was no easy task because various parts of it – hawthorn twigs, elder branches, strands of ivy, mistletoe and witches broom – had insinuated themselves among his clothes, limbs and hair during the night or glued themselves to him with ice. He sat up. He did not seem in the least surprised to find he had an audience; one would almost have supposed from his behaviour that he had been expecting it. He looked at them all and gave several disparaging sniffs and snorts.    He ran his fingers through his hair, removing dead leaves, bits of twig and half a dozen earwigs. “I reached out my hand” he muttered, to no-one in particular. “England’s rivers turned and flowed the other way.” He loosened his neckcloth and fished out some spiders which had taken up residence inside his shirt. In doing so, he revealed that his neck and throat were ornamented with an odd pattern of blue lines, dots, crosses and circles. Then he wrapped his neckcloth back about his neck and, having thus completed his toilet to his satisfaction, he rose to his feet.    “My name is Vinculus”, he declared.  What I loved most, as I listened to Susanna’s story was that it took me away, where a slow and curious sort of calm came over me. A kind of a hush, seemingly impenetrable, descended about me. A strange sense of quiet fell, like one might find in the wee hours of the morning. I relaxed, shook off the shackles of day to day and settled in, wholly immersed now and in no particular hurry, on this long, long journey. I stretched out my legs, met the man with the thistle-down hair and considered the colour of a heartache. I visited ballrooms and battlefields, travelled faerie roads, and searched for the Raven King. I watched the birds as they came to my feeder and fell away, to lost-hope house and all the mirrors of the world, utterly enchanted, and I believed.  It was as if a door had opened somewhere. Or possibly a series of doors. There was a sensation as of a breeze blowing into the house and bringing with it the half- remembered scents of childhood. There was a shift in the light which seemed to cause all the shadows in the room to fall differently. There was nothing more definite than that, and yet, as often happens when some magic is occurring, both Drawlight and the lady had the strongest impression that nothing in the visible world could be relied upon any more. It was as if one might put out one’s hand to touch any thing in the room and discover it was no longer there.    A tall mirror hung upon the wall above the sopha where the lady sat. It shewed a second great white moon in a second tall dark window and a second dim-mirror room. But Drawlight and the lady did not appear in the mirror room at all. Instead there was a kind of an indistinctness, which became a sort of shadow, which became the dark shape of someone coming towards them. From the path which this person took, it could clearly be seen that the mirror room was not like the original at all and that it was only by odd tricks of lighting and perspective – such as one might meet with in the theatre- that they appeared to be the same. It seemed that the mirror room was actually a long corridor.The hair and coat of the mysterious figure were stirred by a wind which could not be felt in their own room and though he walked briskly towards the glass which separated the two rooms, it was taking him some time to reach it. But finally he reached the glass and then there was a moment when his dark shape loomed very large behind it and his face was still in shadow.  Susanna Clarke tells a story that spills over with wonder. This one is coming to the island with me.      i-said lod to-the-island               912 reviews678 followers     October 17, 2018    Imagine Charles Dickens figuring out how to master the time/space continuum, managing to make his way into our present, and briefly discussing his masterwork, Hard Times, with J. K. Rowling. The result being this huge-assed, yet entertaining tome on British magic. Way to go, Boz and thanks!!  Is this for real, Jeff?  Not really random Goodreader. I had too much coffee this morning and my mind is racing like a sports car driven by Danica Patrick. This book does kind of hit several literary sweet spots with me: Historical Fiction (waves to the Duke of Wellington and that walking horn ball poet, Lord Byron), Fantasy and a terrific sense of humor on the part of Susanna Clarke. The skinny: After centuries, English magic - long dormant - is being revived by a peevish asshat named Mr. Norrell. He wants to be THE one and only English magician and will spare nothing to block any one else interested in pulling rabbits from hats or doing card tricks. He reluctantly takes on a pupil, Jonathon Strange. Their magic helps kick Napoleon’s ass. There’s an evil, creepy faerie – kind of like a lethal obsessive powdered wig wearing Loki. He has his own agenda.   And the great and powerful Raven King. Always the Raven King. Sounds great and it was for the most part, except: This starts off rather slowly – like a rollercoaster that takes its sweet-assed time getting up the first ascent – hanging on Clarke’s wit to keep the plot moving along. After the first descent and some frequent lunch losing swervings and such, the book takes off.   As a lazy reader, I always welcome any sort of illustrations in books – especially 1000 page books - because I can jump ahead a few pages and feel a sense of accomplishment. However, the art here was of the murky – just – what – heck – is – that variety. Hey, I read graphic novels and know a thing or two about art. Where the hell were the Brothers Hildebrandt? F**king footnotes!!!   As a concept, I can understand why Clarke footnoted the crap out of this book (quoting fake magic texts to give her book verisimilitude and suck the reader into the imaginary world), but if there’s ever a literary device that can grind any reading momentum to a halt, its half-page footnotes. A bunch of ‘em. My advice: skip over them. I hated typing in foot notes when I did school papers and I wish a pox on the family of the dude who invented the footnote. Still, the book has tons to recommend for the right reader – the ending is the cat’s pajamas – the characters are beautifully fleshed out - just stay with it after the spotty beginning.                   1,802 reviews44.1k followers      Want to read  April 13, 2021   to anyone who calls me cynical or pessimistic: what could be more hopeful than adding super long books to my tbr when i'm probably never going to read them?    fantasy historical non-ya               Author  9 books1,977 followers     December 22, 2015    and the kitchen sink.   simultaneously contemptuous and admiring of georgian culture and society, and possessed of many, many insights into the black heart of humankind, this book left me in a state of despair shot through with occasional palpitations of humor and excitement. on the whole, a vastly self-indulgent work—and as impressed with itself as we're meant to be. the footnotes, see... i love footnotes. but unlike, say, infinite jest, whose footnotes were by and large interesting and germane, these were most often completely useless and not at all worth the trouble of navigating to and fro within the ebook... when the links were working properly at all, of course. i get the sense that i was meant to enjoy, as goodreads reviewer paul bryant said, the fake scholarship of our omniscient narrator referring to books that d0 not exist, because that's wildly entertaining, i guess? and yet the writing here is, i felt, very good. it's just that the story—it wandered.  to and fro, round england and onto the continent (three times), and then back again, somewhat aimlessly, as if by the vagaries of chance. it's a pantser's novel, i concluded halfway through; reading interviews with the author confirmed my suspicion: she'd just sorta begun and went wherever the hell her story took her. which. you know. at nearly 900 pages, with those bloody footnotes—well. it took her a hell of a lot of places, i can tell you. so i'm unhappy about the superficial structure of the thing; the indulgence of all the unnecessary foolishness and dead-end mini-stories in it; the sense that the hand at the tiller had no idea where this was all going and let's just all find out together, shall we? but. also. really good, really sharp observations on how people work, and what motivates them, and how they fuck themselves up. it's just that... it's really grim, too. bcuz humans are grim as fuck. so! where does that leave me and my review? i dunno. it is technically proficient, yet horribly excessive; it is beautifully rendered, but quite mercilessly features the brutal ugliness of the human spirit; it's terribly engaging, yet lasts for ever and ever and ends kinda abruptly. with footnotes, naturally. if two stars equals 'it was okay,' three equals 'i liked it,' and four equals 'i loved it,' how in the fuck many stars do you give a book you variously liked, loved, and thought was just okay? let's find out together.
Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/14201.Jonathan_Strange_Mr_Norrell
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2885/2885-h/2885-h.htm
THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND ALL THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK WRITTEN IN PROSE AND IN VERSE by William Morris
2005-05-04
None
<div>
<h2>
<a href="#startoftext">The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris</a>
</h2>
<pre>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The House of the Wolfings
 A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark Written in Prose and in Verse
Author: William Morris
Release Date: May 4, 2005 [eBook #2885]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***
</pre>
<p>Transcribed from the 1904 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David
Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
<h2>THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS<br />
A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND ALL THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK
WRITTEN IN PROSE AND IN VERSE<br />
by William Morris</h2>
<blockquote><p>Whiles in the early Winter eve<br />
We pass amid the gathering night<br />
Some homestead that we had to leave<br />
Years past; and see its candles bright<br />
Shine in the room beside the door<br />
Where we were merry years agone<br />
But now must never enter more,<br />
As still the dark road drives us on.<br />
E’en so the world of men may turn<br />
At even of some hurried day<br />
And see the ancient glimmer burn<br />
Across the waste that hath no way;<br />
Then with that faint light in its eyes<br />
A while I bid it linger near<br />
And nurse in wavering memories<br />
The bitter-sweet of days that were.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>CHAPTER I—THE DWELLINGS OF MID-MARK</h2>
<p>The tale tells that in times long past there was a dwelling of men
beside a great wood.  Before it lay a plain, not very great, but
which was, as it were, an isle in the sea of woodland, since even when
you stood on the flat ground, you could see trees everywhere in the
offing, though as for hills, you could scarce say that there were any;
only swellings-up of the earth here and there, like the upheavings of
the water that one sees at whiles going on amidst the eddies of a swift
but deep stream.</p>
<p>On either side, to right and left the tree-girdle reached out toward
the blue distance, thick close and unsundered, save where it and the
plain which it begirdled was cleft amidmost by a river about as wide
as the Thames at Sheene when the flood-tide is at its highest, but so
swift and full of eddies, that it gave token of mountains not so far
distant, though they were hidden.  On each side moreover of the
stream of this river was a wide space of stones, great and little, and
in most places above this stony waste were banks of a few feet high,
showing where the yearly winter flood was most commonly stayed.</p>
<p>You must know that this great clearing in the woodland was not a
matter of haphazard; though the river had driven a road whereby men
might fare on each side of its hurrying stream.  It was men who
had made that Isle in the woodland.</p>
<p>For many generations the folk that now dwelt there had learned the
craft of iron-founding, so that they had no lack of wares of iron and
steel, whether they were tools of handicraft or weapons for hunting
and for war.  It was the men of the Folk, who coming adown by the
river-side had made that clearing.  The tale tells not whence they
came, but belike from the dales of the distant mountains, and from dales
and mountains and plains further aloof and yet further.</p>
<p>Anyhow they came adown the river; on its waters on rafts, by its
shores in wains or bestriding their horses or their kine, or afoot,
till they had a mind to abide; and there as it fell they stayed their
travel, and spread from each side of the river, and fought with the
wood and its wild things, that they might make to themselves a dwelling-place
on the face of the earth.</p>
<p>So they cut down the trees, and burned their stumps that the grass
might grow sweet for their kine and sheep and horses; and they diked
the river where need was all through the plain, and far up into the
wild-wood to bridle the winter floods: and they made them boats to ferry
them over, and to float down stream and track up-stream: they fished
the river’s eddies also with net and with line; and drew drift
from out of it of far-travelled wood and other matters; and the gravel
of its shallows they washed for gold; and it became their friend, and
they loved it, and gave it a name, and called it the Dusky, and the
Glassy, and the Mirkwood-water; for the names of it changed with the
generations of man.</p>
<p>There then in the clearing of the wood that for many years grew greater
yearly they drave their beasts to pasture in the new-made meadows, where
year by year the grass grew sweeter as the sun shone on it and the standing
waters went from it; and now in the year whereof the tale telleth it
was a fair and smiling plain, and no folk might have a better meadow.</p>
<p>But long before that had they learned the craft of tillage and taken
heed to the acres and begun to grow wheat and rye thereon round about
their roofs; the spade came into their hands, and they bethought them
of the plough-share, and the tillage spread and grew, and there was
no lack of bread.</p>
<p>In such wise that Folk had made an island amidst of the Mirkwood,
and established a home there, and upheld it with manifold toil too long
to tell of.  And from the beginning this clearing in the wood they
called the Mid-mark: for you shall know that men might journey up and
down the Mirkwood-water, and half a day’s ride up or down they
would come on another clearing or island in the woods, and these were
the Upper-mark and the Nether-mark: and all these three were inhabited
by men of one folk and one kindred, which was called the Mark-men, though
of many branches was that stem of folk, who bore divers signs in battle
and at the council whereby they might be known.</p>
<p>Now in the Mid-mark itself were many Houses of men; for by that word
had they called for generations those who dwelt together under one token
of kinship.  The river ran from South to North, and both on the
East side and on the West were there Houses of the Folk, and their habitations
were shouldered up nigh unto the wood, so that ever betwixt them and
the river was there a space of tillage and pasture.</p>
<p>Tells the tale of one such House, whose habitations were on the west
side of the water, on a gentle slope of land, so that no flood higher
than common might reach them.  It was straight down to the river
mostly that the land fell off, and on its downward-reaching slopes was
the tillage, “the Acres,” as the men of that time always
called tilled land; and beyond that was the meadow going fair and smooth,
though with here and there a rising in it, down to the lips of the stony
waste of the winter river.</p>
<p>Now the name of this House was the Wolfings, and they bore a Wolf
on their banners, and their warriors were marked on the breast with
the image of the Wolf, that they might be known for what they were if
they fell in battle, and were stripped.</p>
<p>The house, that is to say the Roof, of the Wolfings of the Mid-mark
stood on the topmost of the slope aforesaid with its back to the wild-wood
and its face to the acres and the water.  But you must know that
in those days the men of one branch of kindred dwelt under one roof
together, and had therein their place and dignity; nor were there many
degrees amongst them as hath befallen afterwards, but all they of one
blood were brethren and of equal dignity.  Howbeit they had servants
or thralls, men taken in battle, men of alien blood, though true it
is that from time to time were some of such men taken into the House,
and hailed as brethren of the blood.</p>
<p>Also (to make an end at once of these matters of kinship and affinity)
the men of one House might not wed the women of their own House: to
the Wolfing men all Wolfing women were as sisters: they must needs wed
with the Hartings or the Elkings or the Bearings, or other such Houses
of the Mark as were not so close akin to the blood of the Wolf; and
this was a law that none dreamed of breaking.  Thus then dwelt
this Folk and such was their Custom.</p>
<p>As to the Roof of the Wolfings, it was a great hall and goodly, after
the fashion of their folk and their day; not built of stone and lime,
but framed of the goodliest trees of the wild-wood squared with the
adze, and betwixt the framing filled with clay wattled with reeds. 
Long was that house, and at one end anigh the gable was the Man’s-door,
not so high that a man might stand on the threshold and his helmcrest
clear the lintel; for such was the custom, that a tall man must bow
himself as he came into the hall; which custom maybe was a memory of
the days of onslaught when the foemen were mostly wont to beset the
hall; whereas in the days whereof the tale tells they drew out into
the fields and fought unfenced; unless at whiles when the odds were
over great, and then they drew their wains about them and were fenced
by the wain-burg.  At least it was from no niggardry that the door
was made thus low, as might be seen by the fair and manifold carving
of knots and dragons that was wrought above the lintel of the door for
some three foot’s space.  But a like door was there anigh
the other gable-end, whereby the women entered, and it was called the
Woman’s-door.</p>
<p>Near to the house on all sides except toward the wood were there
many bowers and cots round about the penfolds and the byres: and these
were booths for the stowage of wares, and for crafts and smithying that
were unhandy to do in the house; and withal they were the dwelling-places
of the thralls.  And the lads and young men often abode there many
days and were cherished there of the thralls that loved them, since
at whiles they shunned the Great Roof that they might be the freer to
come and go at their pleasure, and deal as they would.  Thus was
there a clustering on the slopes and bents betwixt the acres of the
Wolfings and the wild-wood wherein dwelt the wolves.</p>
<p>As to the house within, two rows of pillars went down it endlong,
fashioned of the mightiest trees that might be found, and each one fairly
wrought with base and chapiter, and wreaths and knots, and fighting
men and dragons; so that it was like a church of later days that has
a nave and aisles: windows there were above the aisles, and a passage
underneath the said windows in their roofs.  In the aisles were
the sleeping-places of the Folk, and down the nave under the crown of
the roof were three hearths for the fires, and above each hearth a luffer
or smoke-bearer to draw the smoke up when the fires were lighted. 
Forsooth on a bright winter afternoon it was strange to see the three
columns of smoke going wavering up to the dimness of the mighty roof,
and one maybe smitten athwart by the sunbeams.  As for the timber
of the roof itself and its framing, so exceeding great and high it was,
that the tale tells how that none might see the fashion of it from the
hall-floor unless he were to raise aloft a blazing faggot on a long
pole: since no lack of timber was there among the men of the Mark.</p>
<p>At the end of the hall anigh the Man’s-door was the dais, and
a table thereon set thwartwise of the hall; and in front of the dais
was the noblest and greatest of the hearths; (but of the others one
was in the very midmost, and another in the Woman’s-Chamber) and
round about the dais, along the gable-wall, and hung from pillar to
pillar were woven cloths pictured with images of ancient tales and the
deeds of the Wolfings, and the deeds of the Gods from whence they came. 
And this was the fairest place of all the house and the best-beloved
of the Folk, and especially of the older and the mightier men: and there
were tales told, and songs sung, especially if they were new: and thereto
also were messengers brought if any tidings were abroad: there also
would the elders talk together about matters concerning the House or
the Mid-mark or the whole Folk of the Markmen.</p>
<p>Yet you must not think that their solemn councils were held there,
the folk-motes whereat it must be determined what to do and what to
forbear doing; for according as such councils, (which they called Things)
were of the House or of the Mid-mark or of the whole Folk, were they
held each at the due Thing-steads in the Wood aloof from either acre
or meadow, (as was the custom of our forefathers for long after) and
at such Things would all the men of the House or the Mid-mark or the
Folk be present man by man.  And in each of these steads was there
a Doomring wherein Doom was given by the neighbours chosen, (whom now
we call the Jury) in matters between man and man; and no such doom of
neighbours was given, and no such voice of the Folk proclaimed in any
house or under any roof, nor even as aforesaid on the tilled acres or
the depastured meadows.  This was the custom of our forefathers,
in memory, belike, of the days when as yet there was neither house nor
tillage, nor flocks and herds, but the Earth’s face only and what
freely grew thereon.</p>
<p>But over the dais there hung by chains and pulleys fastened to a
tie-beam of the roof high aloft a wondrous lamp fashioned of glass;
yet of no such glass as the folk made then and there, but of a fair
and clear green like an emerald, and all done with figures and knots
in gold, and strange beasts, and a warrior slaying a dragon, and the
sun rising on the earth: nor did any tale tell whence this lamp came,
but it was held as an ancient and holy thing by all the Markmen, and
the kindred of the Wolf had it in charge to keep a light burning in
it night and day for ever; and they appointed a maiden of their own
kindred to that office; which damsel must needs be unwedded, since no
wedded woman dwelling under that roof could be a Wolfing woman, but
would needs be of the houses wherein the Wolfings wedded.</p>
<p>This lamp which burned ever was called the Hall-Sun, and the woman
who had charge of it, and who was the fairest that might be found was
called after it the Hall-Sun also.</p>
<p>At the other end of the hall was the Woman’s-Chamber, and therein
were the looms and other gear for the carding and spinning of wool and
the weaving of cloth.</p>
<p>Such was the Roof under which dwelt the kindred of the Wolfings;
and the other kindreds of the Mid-mark had roofs like to it; and of
these the chiefest were the Elkings, the Vallings, the Alftings, the
Beamings, the Galtings, and the Bearings; who bore on their banners
the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Tree, the Boar, and the Bear. 
But other lesser and newer kindreds there were than these: as for the
Hartings above named, they were a kindred of the Upper-mark.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER II—THE FLITTING OF THE WAR-ARROW</h2>
<p>Tells the tale that it was an evening of summer, when the wheat was
in the ear, but yet green; and the neat-herds were done driving the
milch-kine to the byre, and the horseherds and the shepherds had made
the night-shift, and the out-goers were riding two by two and one by
one through the lanes between the wheat and the rye towards the meadow. 
Round the cots of the thralls were gathered knots of men and women both
thralls and freemen, some talking together, some hearkening a song or
a tale, some singing and some dancing together; and the children gambolling
about from group to group with their shrill and tuneless voices, like
young throstles who have not yet learned the song of their race. 
With these were mingled dogs, dun of colour, long of limb, sharp-nosed,
gaunt and great; they took little heed of the children as they pulled
them about in their play, but lay down, or loitered about, as though
they had forgotten the chase and the wild-wood.</p>
<p>Merry was the folk with that fair tide, and the promise of the harvest,
and the joy of life, and there was no weapon among them so close to
the houses, save here and there the boar-spear of some herdman or herd-woman
late come from the meadow.</p>
<p>Tall and for the most part comely were both men and women; the most
of them light-haired and grey-eyed, with cheek-bones somewhat high;
white of skin but for the sun’s burning, and the wind’s
parching, and whereas they were tanned of a very ruddy and cheerful
hue.  But the thralls were some of them of a shorter and darker
breed, black-haired also and dark-eyed, lighter of limb; sometimes better
knit, but sometimes crookeder of leg and knottier of arm.  But
some also were of build and hue not much unlike to the freemen; and
these doubtless came of some other Folk of the Goths which had given
way in battle before the Men of the Mark, either they or their fathers.</p>
<p>Moreover some of the freemen were unlike their fellows and kindred,
being slenderer and closer-knit, and black-haired, but grey-eyed withal;
and amongst these were one or two who exceeded in beauty all others
of the House.</p>
<p>Now the sun was set and the glooming was at point to begin and the
shadowless twilight lay upon the earth.  The nightingales on the
borders of the wood sang ceaselessly from the scattered hazel-trees
above the greensward where the grass was cropped down close by the nibbling
of the rabbits; but in spite of their song and the divers voices of
the men-folk about the houses, it was an evening on which sounds from
aloof can be well heard, since noises carry far at such tides.</p>
<p>Suddenly they who were on the edges of those throngs and were the
less noisy, held themselves as if to listen; and a group that had gathered
about a minstrel to hear his story fell hearkening also round about
the silenced and hearkening tale-teller: some of the dancers and singers
noted them and in their turn stayed the dance and kept silence to hearken;
and so from group to group spread the change, till all were straining
their ears to hearken the tidings.  Already the men of the night-shift
had heard it, and the shepherds of them had turned about, and were trotting
smartly back through the lanes of the tall wheat: but the horse-herds
were now scarce seen on the darkening meadow, as they galloped on fast
toward their herds to drive home the stallions.  For what they
had heard was the tidings of war.</p>
<p>There was a sound in the air as of a humble-bee close to the ear
of one lying on a grassy bank; or whiles as of a cow afar in the meadow
lowing in the afternoon when milking-time draws nigh: but it was ever
shriller than the one, and fuller than the other; for it changed at
whiles, though after the first sound of it, it did not rise or fall,
because the eve was windless.  You might hear at once that for
all it was afar, it was a great and mighty sound; nor did any that hearkened
doubt what it was, but all knew it for the blast of the great war-horn
of the Elkings, whose Roof lay up Mirkwood-water next to the Roof of
the Wolfings.</p>
<p>So those little throngs broke up at once; and all the freemen, and
of the thralls a good many, flocked, both men and women, to the Man’s-door
of the hall, and streamed in quietly and with little talk, as men knowing
that they should hear all in due season.</p>
<p>Within under the Hall-Sun, amidst the woven stories of time past,
sat the elders and chief warriors on the dais, and amidst of all a big
strong man of forty winters, his dark beard a little grizzled, his eyes
big and grey.  Before him on the board lay the great War-horn of
the Wolfings carved out of the tusk of a sea-whale of the North and
with many devices on it and the Wolf amidst them all; its golden mouth-piece
and rim wrought finely with flowers.  There it abode the blowing,
until the spoken word of some messenger should set forth the tidings
borne on the air by the horn of the Elkings.</p>
<p>But the name of the dark-haired chief was Thiodolf (to wit Folk-wolf)
and he was deemed the wisest man of the Wolfings, and the best man of
his hands, and of heart most dauntless.  Beside him sat the fair
woman called the Hall-Sun; for she was his foster-daughter before men’s
eyes; and she was black-haired and grey-eyed like to her fosterer, and
never was woman fashioned fairer: she was young of years, scarce twenty
winters old.</p>
<p>There sat the chiefs and elders on the dais, and round about stood
the kindred intermingled with the thralls, and no man spake, for they
were awaiting sure and certain tidings: and when all were come in who
had a mind to, there was so great a silence in the hall, that the song
of the nightingales on the wood-edge sounded clear and loud therein,
and even the chink of the bats about the upper windows could be heard. 
Then amidst the hush of men-folk, and the sounds of the life of the
earth came another sound that made all turn their eyes toward the door;
and this was the pad-pad of one running on the trodden and summer-dried
ground anigh the hall: it stopped for a moment at the Man’s-door,
and the door opened, and the throng parted, making way for the man that
entered and came hastily up to the midst of the table that stood on
the dais athwart the hall, and stood there panting, holding forth in
his outstretched hand something which not all could see in the dimness
of the hall-twilight, but which all knew nevertheless.  The man
was young, lithe and slender, and had no raiment but linen breeches
round his middle, and skin shoes on his feet.  As he stood there
gathering his breath for speech, Thiodolf stood up, and poured mead
into a drinking horn and held it out towards the new-comer, and spake,
but in rhyme and measure:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Welcome, thou evening-farer, and holy be thine
head,<br />
Since thou hast sought unto us in the heart of the Wolfings’ stead;<br />
Drink now of the horn of the mighty, and call a health if thou wilt<br />
O’er the eddies of the mead-horn to the washing out of guilt.<br />
For thou com’st to the peace of the Wolfings, and our very guest
thou art,<br />
And meseems as I behold thee, that I look on a child of the Hart.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But the man put the horn from him with a hasty hand, and none said
another word to him until he had gotten his breath again; and then he
said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“All hail ye Wood-Wolfs’ children! nought
may I drink the wine,<br />
For the mouth and the maw that I carry this eve are nought of mine;<br />
And my feet are the feet of the people, since the word went forth that
tide,<br />
‘O Elf here of the Hartings, no longer shalt thou bide<br />
In any house of the Markmen than to speak the word and wend,<br />
Till all men know the tidings and thine errand hath an end.’<br />
Behold, O Wolves, the token and say if it be true!<br />
I bear the shaft of battle that is four-wise cloven through,<br />
And its each end dipped in the blood-stream, both the iron and the horn,<br />
And its midmost scathed with the fire; and the word that I have borne<br />
Along with this war-token is, ‘Wolfings of the Mark<br />
Whenso ye see the war-shaft, by the daylight or the dark,<br />
Busk ye to battle faring, and leave all work undone<br />
Save the gathering for the handplay at the rising of the sun.<br />
Three days hence is the hosting, and thither bear along<br />
Your wains and your kine for the slaughter lest the journey should be
long.<br />
For great is the Folk, saith the tidings, that against the Markmen come;<br />
In a far off land is their dwelling, whenso they sit at home,<br />
And Welsh <a></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a> is their
tongue, and we wot not of the word that is in their mouth,<br />
As they march a many together from the cities of the South.’”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he held up yet for a minute the token of the war-arrow
ragged and burnt and bloody; and turning about with it in his hand went
his ways through the open door, none hindering; and when he was gone,
it was as if the token were still in the air there against the heads
of the living men, and the heads of the woven warriors, so intently
had all gazed at it; and none doubted the tidings or the token. 
Then said Thiodolf:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Forth will we Wolfing children, and cast a sound
abroad:<br />
The mouth of the sea-beast’s weapon shall speak the battle-word;<br />
And ye warriors hearken and hasten, and dight the weed of war,<br />
And then to acre and meadow wend ye adown no more,<br />
For this work shall be for the women to drive our neat from the mead,<br />
And to yoke the wains, and to load them as the men of war have need.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Out then they streamed from the hall, and no man was left therein
save the fair Hall-Sun sitting under the lamp whose name she bore. 
But to the highest of the slope they went, where was a mound made higher
by man’s handiwork; thereon stood Thiodolf and handled the horn,
turning his face toward the downward course of Mirkwood-water; and he
set the horn to his lips, and blew a long blast, and then again, and
yet again the third time; and all the sounds of the gathering night
were hushed under the sound of the roaring of the war-horn of the Wolfings;
and the Kin of the Beamings heard it as they sat in their hall, and
they gat them ready to hearken to the bearer of the tidings who should
follow on the sound of the war-blast.</p>
<p>But when the last sound of the horn had died away, then said Thiodolf:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Now Wolfing children hearken, what the splintered
War-shaft saith,<br />
The fire scathed blood-stained aspen! we shall ride for life or death,<br />
We warriors, a long journey with the herd and with the wain;<br />
But unto this our homestead shall we wend us back again,<br />
All the gleanings of the battle; and here for them that live<br />
Shall stand the Roof of the Wolfings, and for them shall the meadow
thrive,<br />
And the acres give their increase in the harvest of the year;<br />
Now is no long departing since the Hall-Sun bideth here<br />
’Neath the holy Roof of the Fathers, and the place of the Wolfing
kin,<br />
And the feast of our glad returning shall yet be held therein.<br />
Hear the bidding of the War-shaft!  All men, both thralls and free,<br />
’Twixt twenty winters and sixty, beneath the shield shall be,<br />
And the hosting is at the Thing-stead, the Upper-mark anigh;<br />
And we wend away to-morrow ere the Sun is noon-tide high.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he stepped down from the mound, and went his way back to
the hall; and manifold talk arose among the folk; and of the warriors
some were already dight for the journey, but most not, and a many went
their ways to see to their weapons and horses, and the rest back again
into the hall.</p>
<p>By this time night had fallen, and between then and the dawning would
be no darker hour, for the moon was just rising; a many of the horse-herds
had done their business, and were now making their way back again through
the lanes of the wheat, driving the stallions before them, who played
together kicking, biting and squealing, paying but little heed to the
standing corn on either side.  Lights began to glitter now in the
cots of the thralls, and brighter still in the stithies where already
you might hear the hammers clinking on the anvils, as men fell to looking
to their battle gear.</p>
<p>But the chief men and the women sat under their Roof on the eve of
departure: and the tuns of mead were broached, and the horns filled
and borne round by young maidens, and men ate and drank and were merry;
and from time to time as some one of the warriors had done with giving
heed to his weapons, he entered into the hall and fell into the company
of those whom he loved most and by whom he was best beloved; and whiles
they talked, and whiles they sang to the harp up and down that long
house; and the moon risen high shone in at the windows, and there was
much laughter and merriment, and talk of deeds of arms of the old days
on the eve of that departure: till little by little weariness fell on
them, and they went their ways to slumber, and the hall was fallen silent.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER III—THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN</h2>
<p>But yet sat Thiodolf under the Hall-Sun for a while as one in deep
thought; till at last as he stirred, his sword clattered on him; and
then he lifted up his eyes and looked down the hall and saw no man stirring,
so he stood up and settled his raiment on him, and went forth, and so
took his ways through the hall-door, as one who hath an errand.</p>
<p>The moonlight lay in a great flood on the grass without, and the
dew was falling in the coldest hour of the night, and the earth smelled
sweetly: the whole habitation was asleep now, and there was no sound
to be known as the sound of any creature, save that from the distant
meadow came the lowing of a cow that had lost her calf, and that a white
owl was flitting about near the eaves of the Roof with her wild cry
that sounded like the mocking of merriment now silent.</p>
<p>Thiodolf turned toward the wood, and walked steadily through the
scattered hazel-trees, and thereby into the thick of the beech-trees,
whose boles grew smooth and silver-grey, high and close-set: and so
on and on he went as one going by a well-known path, though there was
no path, till all the moonlight was quenched under the close roof of
the beech-leaves, though yet for all the darkness, no man could go there
and not feel that the roof was green above him.  Still he went
on in despite of the darkness, till at last there was a glimmer before
him, that grew greater till he came unto a small wood-lawn whereon the
turf grew again, though the grass was but thin, because little sunlight
got to it, so close and thick were the tall trees round about it. 
In the heavens above it by now there was a light that was not all of
the moon, though it might scarce be told whether that light were the
memory of yesterday or the promise of to-morrow, since little of the
heavens could be seen thence, save the crown of them, because of the
tall tree-tops.</p>
<p>Nought looked Thiodolf either at the heavens above, or the trees,
as he strode from off the husk-strewn floor of the beech wood on to
the scanty grass of the lawn, but his eyes looked straight before him
at that which was amidmost of the lawn: and little wonder was that;
for there on a stone chair sat a woman exceeding fair, clad in glittering
raiment, her hair lying as pale in the moonlight on the grey stone as
the barley acres in the August night before the reaping-hook goes in
amongst them.  She sat there as though she were awaiting someone,
and he made no stop nor stay, but went straight up to her, and took
her in his arms, and kissed her mouth and her eyes, and she him again;
and then he sat himself down beside her.  But her eyes looked kindly
on him as she said:</p>
<p>“O Thiodolf, hardy art thou, that thou hast no fear to take
me in thine arms and to kiss me, as though thou hadst met in the meadow
with a maiden of the Elkings: and I, who am a daughter of the Gods of
thy kindred, and a Chooser of the Slain!  Yea, and that upon the
eve of battle and the dawn of thy departure to the stricken field!”</p>
<p>“O Wood-Sun,” he said “thou art the treasure of
life that I found when I was young, and the love of life that I hold,
now that my beard is grizzling.  Since when did I fear thee, Wood-Sun? 
Did I fear thee when first I saw thee, and we stood amidst the hazelled
field, we twain living amongst the slain?  But my sword was red
with the blood of the foe, and my raiment with mine own blood; and I
was a-weary with the day’s work, and sick with many strokes, and
methought I was fainting into death.  And there thou wert before
me, full of life and ruddy and smiling both lips and eyes; thy raiment
clean and clear, thine hands stained with blood: then didst thou take
me by my bloody and weary hand, and didst kiss my lips grown ashen pale,
and thou saidst ‘Come with me.’  And I strove to go,
and might not; so many and sore were my hurts.  Then amidst my
sickness and my weariness was I merry; for I said to myself, This is
the death of the warrior, and it is exceeding sweet.  What meaneth
it?  Folk said of me; he is over young to meet the foeman; yet
am I not over young to die?”</p>
<p>Therewith he laughed out amid the wild-wood, and his speech became
song, and he said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“We wrought in the ring of the hazels, and the
wine of war we drank:<br />
From the tide when the sun stood highest to the hour wherein she sank:<br />
And three kings came against me, the mightiest of the Huns,<br />
The evil-eyed in battle, the swift-foot wily ones;<br />
And they gnashed their teeth against me, and they gnawed on the shield-rims
there,<br />
On that afternoon of summer, in the high-tide of the year.<br />
Keen-eyed I gazed about me, and I saw the clouds draw up<br />
Till the heavens were dark as the hollow of a wine-stained iron cup,<br />
And the wild-deer lay unfeeding on the grass of the forest glades,<br />
And all earth was scared with the thunder above our clashing blades.</p>
<p>“Then sank a King before me, and on fell the other twain,<br />
And I tossed up the reddened sword-blade in the gathered rush of the
rain<br />
And the blood and the water blended, and fragrant grew the earth.</p>
<p>“There long I turned and twisted within the battle-girth<br />
Before those bears of onset: while out from the grey world streamed<br />
The broad red lash of the lightening and in our byrnies gleamed.<br />
And long I leapt and laboured in that garland of the fight<br />
’Mid the blue blades and the lightening; but ere the sky grew
light<br />
The second of the Hun-kings on the rain-drenched daisies lay;<br />
And we twain with the battle blinded a little while made stay,<br />
And leaning on our sword-hilts each on the other gazed.</p>
<p>“Then the rain grew less, and one corner of the veil of clouds
was raised,<br />
And as from the broidered covering gleams out the shoulder white<br />
Of the bed-mate of the warrior when on his wedding night<br />
He layeth his hand to the linen; so, down there in the west<br />
Gleamed out the naked heaven: but the wrath rose up in my breast,<br />
And the sword in my hand rose with it, and I leaped and hewed at the
Hun;<br />
And from him too flared the war-flame, and the blades danced bright
in the sun<br />
Come back to the earth for a little before the ending of day.</p>
<p>“There then with all that was in him did the Hun play out the
play,<br />
Till he fell, and left me tottering, and I turned my feet to wend<br />
To the place of the mound of the mighty, the gate of the way without
end.<br />
And there thou wert.  How was it, thou Chooser of the Slain,<br />
Did I die in thine arms, and thereafter did thy mouth-kiss wake me again?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Ere the last sound of his voice was done she turned and kissed him;
and then she said; “Never hadst thou a fear and thine heart is
full of hardihood.”</p>
<p>Then he said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“’Tis the hardy heart, beloved, that keepeth
me alive,<br />
As the king-leek in the garden by the rain and the sun doth thrive,<br />
So I thrive by the praise of the people; it is blent with my drink and
my meat;<br />
As I slumber in the night-tide it laps me soft and sweet;<br />
And through the chamber window when I waken in the morn<br />
With the wind of the sun’s arising from the meadow is it borne<br />
And biddeth me remember that yet I live on earth:<br />
Then I rise and my might is with me, and fills my heart with mirth,<br />
As I think of the praise of the people; and all this joy I win<br />
By the deeds that my heart commandeth and the hope that lieth therein.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Yea,” she said, “but day runneth ever on the heels
of day, and there are many and many days; and betwixt them do they carry
eld.”</p>
<p>“Yet art thou no older than in days bygone,” said he. 
“Is it so, O Daughter of the Gods, that thou wert never born,
but wert from before the framing of the mountains, from the beginning
of all things?”</p>
<p>But she said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Nay, nay; I began, I was born; although it may
be indeed<br />
That not on the hills of the earth I sprang from the godhead’s
seed.<br />
And e’en as my birth and my waxing shall be my waning and end.<br />
But thou on many an errand, to many a field dost wend<br />
Where the bow at adventure bended, or the fleeing dastard’s spear<br />
Oft lulleth the mirth of the mighty.  Now me thou dost not fear,<br />
Yet fear with me, beloved, for the mighty Maid I fear;<br />
And Doom is her name, and full often she maketh me afraid<br />
And even now meseemeth on my life her hand is laid.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But he laughed and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“In what land is she abiding?  Is she near
or far away?<br />
Will she draw up close beside me in the press of the battle play?<br />
And if then I may not smite her ’midst the warriors of the field<br />
With the pale blade of my fathers, will she bide the shove of my shield?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But sadly she sang in answer:</p>
<blockquote><p>“In many a stead Doom dwelleth, nor sleepeth day
nor night:<br />
The rim of the bowl she kisseth, and beareth the chambering light<br />
When the kings of men wend happy to the bride-bed from the board.<br />
It is little to say that she wendeth the edge of the grinded sword,<br />
When about the house half builded she hangeth many a day;<br />
The ship from the strand she shoveth, and on his wonted way<br />
By the mountain-hunter fareth where his foot ne’er failed before:<br />
She is where the high bank crumbles at last on the river’s shore:<br />
The mower’s scythe she whetteth; and lulleth the shepherd to sleep<br />
Where the deadly ling-worm wakeneth in the desert of the sheep.<br />
Now we that come of the God-kin of her redes for ourselves we wot,<br />
But her will with the lives of men-folk and their ending know we not.<br />
So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of Doom and her deed,<br />
But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping of my need.<br />
Or else—Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die<br />
In the flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on high?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But Thiodolf answered her:</p>
<blockquote><p>“I have deemed, and long have I deemed that this
is my second life,<br />
That my first one waned with my wounding when thou cam’st to the
ring of strife.<br />
For when in thine arms I wakened on the hazelled field of yore,<br />
Meseemed I had newly arisen to a world I knew no more,<br />
So much had all things brightened on that dewy dawn of day.<br />
It was dark dull death that I looked for when my thought had died away.<br />
It was lovely life that I woke to; and from that day henceforth<br />
My joy of the life of man-folk was manifolded of worth.<br />
Far fairer the fields of the morning than I had known them erst,<br />
And the acres where I wended, and the corn with its half-slaked thirst;<br />
And the noble Roof of the Wolfings, and the hawks that sat thereon;<br />
And the bodies of my kindred whose deliverance I had won;<br />
And the glimmering of the Hall-Sun in the dusky house of old;<br />
And my name in the mouth of the maidens, and the praises of the bold,<br />
As I sat in my battle-raiment, and the ruddy spear well steeled<br />
Leaned ’gainst my side war-battered, and the wounds thine hand
had healed.<br />
Yea, from that morn thenceforward has my life been good indeed,<br />
The gain of to-day was goodly, and good to-morrow’s need,<br />
And good the whirl of the battle, and the broil I wielded there,<br />
Till I fashioned the ordered onset, and the unhoped victory fair.<br />
And good were the days thereafter of utter deedless rest<br />
And the prattle of thy daughter, and her hands on my unmailed breast.<br />
Ah good is the life thou hast given, the life that mine hands have won.<br />
And where shall be the ending till the world is all undone?<br />
Here sit we twain together, and both we in Godhead clad,<br />
We twain of the Wolfing kindred, and each of the other glad.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But she answered, and her face grew darker withal:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O mighty man and joyous, art thou of the Wolfing
kin?<br />
’Twas no evil deed when we mingled, nor lieth doom therein.<br />
Thou lovely man, thou black-haired, thou shalt die and have done no
ill.<br />
Fame-crowned are the deeds of thy doing, and the mouths of men they
fill.<br />
Thou betterer of the Godfolk, enduring is thy fame:<br />
Yet as a painted image of a dream is thy dreaded name.<br />
Of an alien folk thou comest, that we twain might be one indeed.<br />
Thou shalt die one day.  So hearken, to help me at my need.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>His face grew troubled and he said: “What is this word that
I am no chief of the Wolfings?”</p>
<p>“Nay,” she said, “but better than they.  Look
thou on the face of our daughter the Hall-Sun, thy daughter and mine:
favoureth she at all of me?”</p>
<p>He laughed: “Yea, whereas she is fair, but not otherwise. 
This is a hard saying, that I dwell among an alien kindred, and it wotteth
not thereof.  Why hast thou not told me hereof before?”</p>
<p>She said: “It needed not to tell thee because thy day was waxing,
as now it waneth.  Once more I bid thee hearken and do my bidding
though it be hard to thee.”</p>
<p>He answered: “Even so will I as much as I may; and thus wise
must thou look upon it, that I love life, and fear not death.”</p>
<p>Then she spake, and again her words fell into rhyme:</p>
<blockquote><p>“In forty fights hast thou foughten, and been worsted
but in four;<br />
And I looked on and was merry; and ever more and more<br />
Wert thou dear to the heart of the Wood-Sun, and the Chooser of the
Slain.<br />
But now whereas ye are wending with slaughter-herd and wain<br />
To meet a folk that ye know not, a wonder, a peerless foe,<br />
I fear for thy glory’s waning, and I see thee lying alow.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then he brake in: “Herein is little shame to be worsted by
the might of the mightiest: if this so mighty folk sheareth a limb off
the tree of my fame, yet shall it wax again.”</p>
<p>But she sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>“In forty fights hast thou foughten, and beside
thee who but I<br />
Beheld the wind-tossed banners, and saw the aspen fly?<br />
But to-day to thy war I wend not, for Weird withholdeth me<br />
And sore my heart forebodeth for the battle that shall be.<br />
To-day with thee I wend not; so I feared, and lo my feet,<br />
That are wont to the woodland girdle of the acres of the wheat,<br />
For thee among strange people and the foeman’s throng have trod,<br />
And I tell thee their banner of battle is a wise and a mighty God.<br />
For these are the folk of the cities, and in wondrous wise they dwell<br />
’Mid confusion of heaped houses, dim and black as the face of
hell;<br />
Though therefrom rise roofs most goodly, where their captains and their
kings<br />
Dwell amidst the walls of marble in abundance of fair things;<br />
And ’mid these, nor worser nor better, but builded otherwise<br />
Stand the Houses of the Fathers, and the hidden mysteries.<br />
And as close as are the tree-trunks that within the beech-wood thrive<br />
E’en so many are their pillars; and therein like men alive<br />
Stand the images of god-folk in such raiment as they wore<br />
In the years before the cities and the hidden days of yore.<br />
Ah for the gold that I gazed on! and their store of battle gear,<br />
And strange engines that I knew not, or the end for which they were.<br />
Ah for the ordered wisdom of the war-array of these,<br />
And the folks that are sitting about them in dumb down-trodden peace!<br />
So I thought now fareth war-ward my well-beloved friend,<br />
And the weird of the Gods hath doomed it that no more with him may I
wend!<br />
Woe’s me for the war of the Wolfings wherefrom I am sundered apart,<br />
And the fruitless death of the war-wise, and the doom of the hardy heart!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then he answered, and his eyes grew kind as he looked on her:</p>
<blockquote><p>“For thy fair love I thank thee, and thy faithful
word, O friend!<br />
But how might it otherwise happen but we twain must meet in the end,<br />
The God of this mighty people and the Markmen and their kin?<br />
Lo, this is the weird of the world, and what may we do herein?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then mirth came into her face again as she said:</p>
<p>“Who wotteth of Weird, and what she is till the weird is accomplished? 
Long hath it been my weird to love thee and to fashion deeds for thee
as I may; nor will I depart from it now.”  And she sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Keen-edged is the sword of the city, and bitter
is its spear,<br />
But thy breast in the battle, beloved, hath a wall of the stithy’s
gear.<br />
What now is thy wont in the handplay with the helm and the hauberk of
rings?<br />
Farest thou as the thrall and the cot-carle, or clad in the raiment
of kings?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He started, and his face reddened as he answered:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O Wood-Sun thou wottest our battle and the way
wherein we fare:<br />
That oft at the battle’s beginning the helm and the hauberk we
bear;<br />
Lest the shaft of the fleeing coward or the bow at adventure bent<br />
Should slay us ere the need be, ere our might be given and spent.<br />
Yet oft ere the fight is over, and Doom hath scattered the foe,<br />
No leader of the people by his war-gear shall ye know,<br />
But by his hurts the rather, from the cot-carle and the thrall:<br />
For when all is done that a man may, ’tis the hour for a man to
fall.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She yet smiled as she said in answer:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O Folk-wolf, heed and hearken; for when shall
thy life be spent<br />
And the Folk wherein thou dwellest with thy death be well content?<br />
Whenso folk need the fire, do they hew the apple-tree,<br />
And burn the Mother of Blossom and the fruit that is to be?<br />
Or me wilt thou bid to thy grave-mound because thy battle-wrath<br />
May nothing more be bridled than the whirl wind on his path?<br />
So hearken and do my bidding, for the hauberk shalt thou bear<br />
E’en when the other warriors cast off their battle-gear.<br />
So come thou, come unwounded from the war-field of the south,<br />
And sit with me in the beech-wood, and kiss me, eyes and mouth.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And she kissed him in very deed, and made much of him, and fawned
on him, and laid her hand on his breast, and he was soft and blithe
with her, but at last he laughed and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“God’s Daughter, long hast thou lived, and
many a matter seen,<br />
And men full often grieving for the deed that might have been;<br />
But here my heart thou wheedlest as a maid of tender years<br />
When first in the arms of her darling the horn of war she hears.<br />
Thou knowest the axe to be heavy, and the sword, how keen it is;<br />
But that Doom of which thou hast spoken, wilt thou not tell of this,<br />
God’s Daughter, how it sheareth, and how it breaketh through<br />
Each wall that the warrior buildeth, yea all deeds that he may do?<br />
What might in the hammer’s leavings, in the fire’s thrall
shall abide<br />
To turn that Folks’ o’erwhelmer from the fated warrior’s
side?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then she laughed in her turn, and loudly; but so sweetly that the
sound of her voice mingled with the first song of a newly awakened wood-thrush
sitting on a rowan twig on the edge of the Wood-lawn.  But she
said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Yea, I that am God’s Daughter may tell thee
never a whit<br />
From what land cometh the hauberk nor what smith smithied it,<br />
That thou shalt wear in the handplay from the first stroke to the last;<br />
But this thereof I tell thee, that it holdeth firm and fast<br />
The life of the body it lappeth, if the gift of the Godfolk it be.<br />
Lo this is the yoke-mate of doom, and the gift of me unto thee.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then she leaned down from the stone whereon they sat, and her hand
was in the dewy grass for a little, and then it lifted up a dark grey
rippling coat of rings; and she straightened herself in the seat again,
and laid that hauberk on the knees of Thiodolf, and he put his hand
to it, and turned it about, while he pondered long: then at last he
said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“What evil thing abideth with this warder of the
strife,<br />
This burg and treasure chamber for the hoarding of my life?<br />
For this is the work of the dwarfs, and no kindly kin of the earth;<br />
And all we fear the dwarf-kin and their anger and sorrow and mirth.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She cast her arms about him and fondled him, and her voice grew sweeter
than the voice of any mortal thing as she answered:</p>
<blockquote><p>“No ill for thee, beloved, or for me in the hauberk
lies;<br />
No sundering grief is in it, no lonely miseries.<br />
But we shall abide together, and that new life I gave,<br />
For a long while yet henceforward we twain its joy shall have.<br />
Yea, if thou dost my bidding to wear my gift in the fight<br />
No hunter of the wild-wood at the changing of the night<br />
Shall see my shape on thy grave-mound or my tears in the morning find<br />
With the dew of the morning mingled; nor with the evening wind<br />
Shall my body pass the shepherd as he wandereth in the mead<br />
And fill him with forebodings on the eve of the Wolfings’ need.<br />
Nor the horse-herd wake in the midnight and hear my fateful cry;<br />
Nor yet shall the Wolfing women hear words on the wind go by<br />
As they weave and spin the night down when the House is gone to the
war,<br />
And weep for the swains they wedded and the children that they bore.<br />
Yea do my bidding, O Folk-wolf, lest a grief of the Gods should weigh<br />
On the ancient House of the Wolfings and my death o’ercloud its
day.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And still she clung about him, while he spake no word of yea or nay:
but at the last he let himself glide wholly into her arms, and the dwarf-wrought
hauberk fell from his knees and lay on the grass.</p>
<p>So they abode together in that wood-lawn till the twilight was long
gone, and the sun arisen for some while.  And when Thiodolf stepped
out of the beech-wood into the broad sunshine dappled with the shadow
of the leaves of the hazels moving gently in the fresh morning air,
he was covered from the neck to the knee by a hauberk of rings dark
and grey and gleaming, fashioned by the dwarfs of ancient days.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER IV—THE HOUSE FARETH TO THE WAR</h2>
<p>Now when Thiodolf came back to the habitations of the kindred the
whole House was astir, both thrall-men and women, and free women hurrying
from cot to stithy, and from stithy to hall bearing the last of the
war-gear or raiment for the fighting-men.  But they for their part
were some standing about anigh the Man’s-door, some sitting gravely
within the hall, some watching the hurry of the thralls and women from
the midmost of the open space amidst of the habitations, whereon there
stood yet certain wains which were belated: for the most of the wains
were now standing with the oxen already yoked to them down in the meadow
past the acres, encircled by a confused throng of kine and horses and
thrall-folk, for thither had all the beasts for the slaughter, and the
horses for the warriors been brought; and there were the horses tethered
or held by the thralls; some indeed were already saddled and bridled,
and on others were the thralls doing the harness.</p>
<p>But as for the wains of the Markmen, they were stoutly framed of
ash-tree with panels of aspen, and they were broad-wheeled so that they
might go over rough and smooth.  They had high tilts over them
well framed of willow-poles covered over with squares of black felt
over-lapping like shingles; which felt they made of the rough of their
fleeces, for they had many sheep.  And these wains were to them
for houses upon the way if need were, and therein as now were stored
their meal and their war-store and after fight they would flit their
wounded men in them, such as were too sorely hurt to back a horse: nor
must it be hidden that whiles they looked to bring back with them the
treasure of the south.  Moreover the folk if they were worsted
in any battle, instead of fleeing without more done, would often draw
back fighting into a garth made by these wains, and guarded by some
of their thralls; and there would abide the onset of those who had thrust
them back in the field.  And this garth they called the Wain-burg.</p>
<p>So now stood three of these wains aforesaid belated amidst of the
habitations of the House, their yoke-beasts standing or lying down unharnessed
as yet to them: but in the very midst of that place was a wain unlike
to them; smaller than they but higher; square of shape as to the floor
of it; built lighter than they, yet far stronger; as the warrior is
stronger than the big carle and trencher-licker that loiters about the
hall; and from the midst of this wain arose a mast made of a tall straight
fir-tree, and thereon hung the banner of the Wolfings, wherein was wrought
the image of the Wolf, but red of hue as a token of war, and with his
mouth open and gaping upon the foemen.  Also whereas the other
wains were drawn by mere oxen, and those of divers colours, as chance
would have it, the wain of the banner was drawn by ten black bulls of
the mightiest of the herd, deep-dewlapped, high-crested and curly-browed;
and their harness was decked with gold, and so was the wain itself,
and the woodwork of it painted red with vermilion.  There then
stood the Banner of the House of the Wolfings awaiting the departure
of the warriors to the hosting.</p>
<p>So Thiodolf stood on the top of the bent beside that same mound wherefrom
he had blown the War-horn yester-eve, and which was called the Hill
of Speech, and he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around him;
and even therewith the carles fell to yoking the beasts to the belated
wains, and the warriors gathered together from out of the mixed throngs,
and came from the Roof and the Man’s-door and all set their faces
toward the Hill of Speech.</p>
<p>So Thiodolf knew that all was ready for departure, and it wanted
but an hour of high-noon; so he turned about and went into the Hall,
and there found his shield and his spear hanging in his sleeping place
beside the hauberk he was wont to wear; then he looked, as one striving
with thought, at his empty hauberk and his own body covered with the
dwarf-wrought rings; nor did his face change as he took his shield and
his spear and turned away.  Then he went to the dais and there
sat his foster-daughter (as men deemed her) sitting amidst of it as
yester-eve, and now arrayed in a garment of fine white wool, on the
breast whereof were wrought in gold two beasts ramping up against a
fire-altar whereon a flame flickered; and on the skirts and the hems
were other devices, of wolves chasing deer, and men shooting with the
bow; and that garment was an ancient treasure; but she had a broad girdle
of gold and gems about her middle, and on her arms and neck she wore
great gold rings wrought delicately.  By then there were few save
the Hall-Sun under the Roof, and they but the oldest of the women, or
a few very old men, and some who were ailing and might not go abroad. 
But before her on the thwart table lay the Great War-horn awaiting the
coming of Thiodolf to give signal of departure.</p>
<p>Then went Thiodolf to the Hall-Sun and kissed and embraced her fondly,
and she gave the horn into his hands, and he went forth and up on to
the Hill of Speech, and blew thence a short blast on the horn, and then
came all the Warriors flocking to the Hill of Speech, each man stark
in his harness, alert and joyous.</p>
<p>Then presently through the Man’s-door came the Hall-Sun in
that ancient garment, which fell straight and stiff down to her ancles
as she stepped lightly and slowly along, her head crowned with a garland
of eglantine.  In her right hand also she held a great torch of
wax lighted, whose flame amidst the bright sunlight looked like a wavering
leaf of vermilion.</p>
<p>The warriors saw her, and made a lane for her, and she made her way
through it up to the Hill of Speech, and she went up to the top of it
and stood there holding the lighted candle in her hand, so that all
might see it.  Then suddenly was there as great a silence as there
may be on a forenoon of summer; for even the thralls down in the meadow
had noted what was toward, and ceased their talking and shouting, for
as far off as they were, since they could see that the Hall-Sun stood
on the Hill of Speech, for the wood was dark behind her; so they knew
the Farewell Flame was lighted, and that the maiden would speak; and
to all men her speech was a boding of good or of ill.</p>
<p>So she began in a sweet voice yet clear and far-reaching:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O Warriors of the Wolfings by the token of the
flame<br />
That here in my right hand flickers, come aback to the House of the
Name!<br />
For there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing roof,<br />
And this flame is litten from it, nor as now shall it fare aloof<br />
Till again it seeth the mighty and the men to be gleaned from the fight.<br />
So wend ye as weird willeth and let your hearts be light;<br />
For through your days of battle all the deeds of our days shall be fair.<br />
To-morrow beginneth the haysel, as if every carle were here;<br />
And who knoweth ere your returning but the hook shall smite the corn?<br />
But the kine shall go down to the meadow as their wont is every morn,<br />
And each eve shall come back to the byre; and the mares and foals afield<br />
Shall ever be heeded duly; and all things shall their increase yield.<br />
And if it shall befal us that hither cometh a foe<br />
Here have we swains of the shepherds good players with the bow,<br />
And old men battle-crafty whose might is nowise spent,<br />
And women fell and fearless well wont to tread the bent<br />
Amid the sheep and the oxen; and their hands are hard with the spear<br />
And their arms are strong and stalwart the battle shield to bear;<br />
And store of weapons have we and the mighty walls of the stead;<br />
And the Roof shall abide you steadfast with the Hall-Sun overhead.<br />
Lo here I quench this candle that is lit from the Hall-Sun’s flame<br />
Which unto the Wild-wood clearing with the kin of the Wolfings came<br />
And shall wend with their departure to the limits of the earth;<br />
Nor again shall the torch be lighted till in sorrow or in mirth,<br />
Overthrown or overthrowing, ye come aback once more,<br />
And bid me bear the candle before the Wolf of War.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As she spake the word she turned the candle downward, and thrust
it against the grass and quenched it indeed; but the whole throng of
warriors turned about, for the bulls of the banner-wain lowered their
heads in the yokes and began to draw, lowing mightily; and the wain
creaked and moved on, and all the men-at-arms followed after, and down
they went through the lanes of the corn, and a many women and children
and old men went down into the mead with them.</p>
<p>In their hearts they all wondered what the Hall-Sun’s words
might signify; for she had told them nought about the battles to be,
saving that some should come back to the Mid-mark; whereas aforetime
somewhat would she foretell to them concerning the fortune of the fight,
and now had she said to them nothing but what their own hearts told
them.  Nevertheless they bore their crests high as they followed
the Wolf down into the meadow, where all was now ready for departure. 
There they arrayed themselves and went down to the lip of Mirkwood-water;
and such was their array that the banner went first, save that a band
of fully armed men went before it; and behind it and about were the
others as well arrayed as they.  Then went the wains that bore
their munition, with armed carles of the thrall-folk about them, who
were ever the guard of the wains, and should never leave them night
or day; and lastly went the great band of the warriors and the rest
of the thralls with them.</p>
<p>As to their war-gear, all the freemen had helms of some kind, but
not all of iron or steel; for some bore helms fashioned of horse-hide
and bull-hide covered over with the similitude of a Wolf’s muzzle;
nor were these ill-defence against a sword-stroke.  Shields they
all had, and all these had the image of the Wolf marked on them, but
for many their thralls bore them on the journey.  As to their body-armour
some carried long byrnies of ring-mail, some coats of leather covered
with splinters of horn laid like the shingles of a roof, and some skin-coats
only: whereof indeed there were some of which tales went that they were
better than the smith’s hammer-work, because they had had spells
sung over them to keep out steel or iron.</p>
<p>But for their weapons, they bore spears with shafts not very long,
some eight feet of our measure; and axes heavy and long-shafted; and
bills with great and broad heads; and some few, but not many of the
kindred were bowmen, and every freeman was girt with a sword; but of
the swords some were long and two-edged, some short and heavy, cutting
on one edge, and these were of the kind which they and our forefathers
long after called ‘sax.’  Thus were the freemen arrayed.</p>
<p>But for the thralls, there were many bows among them, especially
among those who were of blood alien from the Goths; the others bore
short spears, and feathered broad arrows, and clubs bound with iron,
and knives and axes, but not every man of them had a sword.  Few
iron helms they had and no ringed byrnies, but most had a buckler at
their backs with no sign or symbol on it.</p>
<p>Thus then set forth the fighting men of the House of the Wolf toward
the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark where the hosting was to be, and by
then they were moving up along the side of Mirkwood-water it was somewhat
past high-noon.</p>
<p>But the stay-at-home people who had come down with them to the meadow
lingered long in that place; and much foreboding there was among them
of evil to come; and of the old folk, some remembered tales of the past
days of the Markmen, and how they had come from the ends of the earth,
and the mountains where none dwell now but the Gods of their kindreds;
and many of these tales told of their woes and their wars as they went
from river to river and from wild-wood to wild-wood before they had
established their Houses in the Mark, and fallen to dwelling there season
by season and year by year whether the days were good or ill. 
And it fell into their hearts that now at last mayhappen was their abiding
wearing out to an end, and that the day should soon be when they should
have to bear the Hall-Sun through the wild-wood, and seek a new dwelling-place
afar from the troubling of these newly arisen Welsh foemen.</p>
<p>And so those of them who could not rid themselves of this foreboding
were somewhat heavier of heart than their wont was when the House went
to the War.  For long had they abided there in the Mark, and the
life was sweet to them which they knew, and the life which they knew
not was bitter to them: and Mirkwood-water was become as a God to them
no less than to their fathers of old time; nor lesser was the mead where
fed the horses that they loved and the kine that they had reared, and
the sheep that they guarded from the Wolf of the Wild-wood: and they
worshipped the kind acres which they themselves and their fathers had
made fruitful, wedding them to the seasons of seed-time and harvest,
that the birth that came from them might become a part of the kindred
of the Wolf, and the joy and might of past springs and summers might
run in the blood of the Wolfing children.  And a dear God indeed
to them was the Roof of the Kindred, that their fathers had built and
that they yet warded against the fire and the lightening and the wind
and the snow, and the passing of the days that devour and the years
that heap the dust over the work of men.  They thought of how it
had stood, and seen so many generations of men come and go; how often
it had welcomed the new-born babe, and given farewell to the old man:
how many secrets of the past it knew; how many tales which men of the
present had forgotten, but which yet mayhap men of times to come should
learn of it; for to them yet living it had spoken time and again, and
had told them what their fathers had not told them, and it held the
memories of the generations and the very life of the Wolfings and their
hopes for the days to be.</p>
<p>Thus these poor people thought of the Gods whom they worshipped,
and the friends whom they loved, and could not choose but be heavy-hearted
when they thought that the wild-wood was awaiting them to swallow all
up, and take away from them their Gods and their friends and the mirth
of their life, and burden them with hunger and thirst and weariness,
that their children might begin once more to build the House and establish
the dwelling, and call new places by old names, and worship new Gods
with the ancient worship.</p>
<p>Such imaginations of trouble then were in the hearts of the stay-at-homes
of the Wolfings; the tale tells not indeed that all had such forebodings,
but chiefly the old folk who were nursing the end of their life-days
amidst the cherishing Kindred of the House.</p>
<p>But now they were beginning to turn them back again to the habitations,
and a thin stream was flowing through the acres, when they heard a confused
sound drawing near blended of horns and the lowing of beasts and the
shouting of men; and they looked and saw a throng of brightly clad men
coming up stream alongside of Mirkwood-water; and they were not afraid,
for they knew that it must be some other company of the Markmen journeying
to the hosting of the Folk: and presently they saw that it was the House
of the Beamings following their banner on the way to the Thing-stead. 
But when the new-comers saw the throng out in the meads, some of their
young men pricked on their horses and galloped on past the women and
old men, to whom they threw a greeting, as they ran past to catch up
with the bands of the Wolfings; for between the two houses was there
affinity, and much good liking lay between them; and the stay-at-homes,
many of them, lingered yet till the main body of the Beamings came with
their banner: and their array was much like to that of the Wolfings,
but gayer; for whereas it pleased the latter to darken all their war-gear
to the colour of the grey Wolf, the Beamings polished all their gear
as bright as might be, and their raiment also was mostly bright green
of hue and much beflowered; and the sign on their banner was a green
leafy tree, and the wain was drawn by great white bulls.</p>
<p>So when their company drew anear to the throng of the stay-at-homes
they went to meet and greet each other, and tell tidings to each other;
but their banner held steadily onward amidst their converse, and in
a little while they followed it, for the way was long to the Thing-stead
of the Upper-mark.</p>
<p>So passed away the fighting men by the side of Mirkwood-water, and
the throng of the stay-at-homes melted slowly from the meadow and trickled
along through the acres to the habitations of the Wolfings, and there
they fell to doing whatso of work or play came to their hands.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER V—CONCERNING THE HALL-SUN</h2>
<p>When the warriors and the others had gone down to the mead, the Hall-Sun
was left standing on the Hill of Speech, and she stood there till she
saw the host in due array going on its ways dark and bright and beautiful;
then she made as if to turn aback to the Great Roof; but all at once
it seemed to her as if something held her back, as if her will to move
had departed from her, and that she could not put one foot before the
other.  So she lingered on the Hill, and the quenched candle fell
from her hand, and presently she sank adown on the grass and sat there
with the face of one thinking intently.  Yet was it with her that
a thousand thoughts were in her mind at once and no one of them uppermost,
and images of what had been and what then was flickered about in her
brain, and betwixt them were engendered images of things to be, but
unstable and not to be trowed in.  So sat the Hall-Sun on the Hill
of Speech lost in a dream of the day, whose stories were as little clear
as those of a night-dream.</p>
<p>But as she sat musing thus, came to her a woman exceeding old to
look on, whom she knew not as one of the kindred or a thrall; and this
carline greeted her by the name of Hall-Sun and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Hail, Hall-Sun of the Markmen! how fares it now
with thee<br />
When the whelps of the Woodbeast wander with the Leafage of the Tree<br />
All up the Mirkwood-water to seek what they shall find,<br />
The oak-boles of the battle and the war-wood stark and blind?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then answered the maiden:</p>
<blockquote><p>“It fares with me, O mother, that my soul would
fain go forth<br />
To behold the ways of the battle, and the praise of the warriors’
worth.<br />
But yet is it held entangled in a maze of many a thing,<br />
As the low-grown bramble holdeth the brake-shoots of the Spring.<br />
I think of the thing that hath been, but no shape is in my thought;<br />
I think of the day that passeth, and its story comes to nought.<br />
I think of the days that shall be, nor shape I any tale.<br />
I will hearken thee, O mother, if hearkening may avail.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The Carline gazed at her with dark eyes that shone brightly from
amidst her brown wrinkled face: then she sat herself down beside her
and spake:</p>
<blockquote><p>“From a far folk have I wandered and I come of
an alien blood,<br />
But I know all tales of the Wolfings and their evil and their good;<br />
And when I heard of thy fairness, thereof I heard it said,<br />
That for thee should be never a bridal nor a place in the warrior’s
bed.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The maiden neither reddened nor paled, but looking with calm steady
eyes into the Carline’s face she answered:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Yea true it is, I am wedded to the mighty ones
of old,<br />
And the fathers of the Wolfings ere the days of field and fold.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then a smile came into the eyes of the old woman and she said.</p>
<blockquote><p>“How glad shall be thy mother of thy worship and
thy worth,<br />
And the father that begat thee if yet they dwell on earth!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But the Hall-Sun answered in the same steady manner as before:</p>
<blockquote><p>“None knoweth who is my mother, nor my very father’s
name;<br />
But when to the House of the Wolfings a wild-wood waif I came,<br />
They gave me a foster-mother an ancient dame and good,<br />
And a glorious foster-father the best of all the blood.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Spake the Carline.</p>
<blockquote><p>“Yea, I have heard the story, but scarce therein
might I trow<br />
That thou with all thy beauty wert born ’neath the oaken bough,<br />
And hast crawled a naked baby o’er the rain-drenched autumn-grass;<br />
Wilt thou tell the wandering woman what wise it cometh to pass<br />
That thou art the Mid-mark’s Hall-Sun, and the sign of the Wolfings’
gain?<br />
Thou shalt pleasure me much by the telling, and there of shalt thou
be fain.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then answered the Hall-Sun.</p>
<blockquote><p>“Yea; thus much I remember for the first of my
memories;<br />
That I lay on the grass in the morning and above were the boughs of
the trees.<br />
But nought naked was I as the wood-whelp, but clad in linen white,<br />
And adown the glades of the oakwood the morning sun lay bright.<br />
Then a hind came out of the thicket and stood on the sunlit glade,<br />
And turned her head toward the oak tree and a step on toward me made.<br />
Then stopped, and bounded aback, and away as if in fear,<br />
That I saw her no more; then I wondered, though sitting close anear<br />
Was a she-wolf great and grisly.  But with her was I wont to play,<br />
And pull her ears, and belabour her rugged sides and grey,<br />
And hold her jaws together, while she whimpered, slobbering<br />
For the love of my love; and nowise I deemed her a fearsome thing.<br />
There she sat as though she were watching, and o’er head a blue-winged
jay<br />
Shrieked out from the topmost oak-twigs, and a squirrel ran his way<br />
Two tree-trunks off.  But the she-wolf arose up suddenly<br />
And growled with her neck-fell bristling, as if danger drew anigh;<br />
And therewith I heard a footstep, for nice was my ear to catch<br />
All the noises of the wild-wood; so there did we sit at watch<br />
While the sound of feet grew nigher: then I clapped hand on hand<br />
And crowed for joy and gladness, for there out in the sun did stand<br />
A man, a glorious creature with a gleaming helm on his head,<br />
And gold rings on his arms, in raiment gold-broidered crimson-red.<br />
Straightway he strode up toward us nor heeded the wolf of the wood<br />
But sang as he went in the oak-glade, as a man whose thought is good,<br />
And nought she heeded the warrior, but tame as a sheep was grown,<br />
And trotted away through the wild-wood with her crest all laid adown.<br />
Then came the man and sat down by the oak-bole close unto me<br />
And took me up nought fearful and set me on his knee.<br />
And his face was kind and lovely, so my cheek to his cheek I laid<br />
And touched his cold bright war-helm and with his gold rings played,<br />
And hearkened his words, though I knew not what tale they had to tell,<br />
Yet fain was my heart of their music, and meseemed I loved him well.<br />
So we fared for a while and were fain, till he set down my feet on the
grass,<br />
And kissed me and stood up himself, and away through the wood did he
pass.<br />
And then came back the she-wolf and with her I played and was fain.<br />
Lo the first thing I remember: wilt thou have me babble again?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Spake the Carline and her face was soft and kind:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Nay damsel, long would I hearken to thy voice
this summer day.<br />
But how didst thou leave the wild-wood, what people brought thee away?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then said the Hall-Sun:</p>
<blockquote><p>“I awoke on a time in the even, and voices I heard
as I woke;<br />
And there was I in the wild-wood by the bole of the ancient oak,<br />
And a ring of men was around me, and glad was I indeed<br />
As I looked upon their faces and the fashion of their weed.<br />
For I gazed on the red and the scarlet and the beaten silver and gold,<br />
And blithe were their noble faces and kindly to behold,<br />
And nought had I seen of such-like since that hour of the other day<br />
When that warrior came to the oak glade with the little child to play.<br />
And forth now he came, with the face that my hands had fondled before,<br />
And a battle shield wrought fairly upon his arm he bore,<br />
And thereon the wood-wolf’s image in ruddy gold was done.<br />
Then I stretched out my little arms towards the glorious shining one<br />
And he took me up and set me on his shoulder for a while<br />
And turned about to his fellows with a blithe and joyous smile;<br />
And they shouted aloud about me and drew forth gleaming swords<br />
And clashed them on their bucklers; but nought I knew of the words<br />
Of their shouting and rejoicing.  So thereafter was I laid<br />
And borne forth on the warrior’s warshield, and our way through
the wood we made<br />
’Midst the mirth and great contentment of those fair-clad shielded
men.</p>
<p>“But no tale of the wolf and the wild-wood abides with me since
then,<br />
And the next thing I remember is a huge and dusky hall,<br />
A world for my little body from ancient wall to wall;<br />
A world of many doings, and nought for me to do,<br />
A world of many noises, and known to me were few.</p>
<p>“Time wore, and I spoke with the Wolfings and knew the speech
of the kin,<br />
And was strange ’neath the roof no longer, as a lonely waif therein;<br />
And I wrought as a child with my playmates and every hour looked on<br />
Unto the next hour’s joyance till the happy day was done.<br />
And going and coming amidst us was a woman tall and thin<br />
With hair like the hoary barley and silver streaks therein.<br />
And kind and sad of visage, as now I remember me,<br />
And she sat and told us stories when we were aweary with glee,<br />
And many of us she fondled, but me the most of all.<br />
And once from my sleep she waked me and bore me down the hall,<br />
In the hush of the very midnight, and I was feared thereat.<br />
But she brought me unto the dais, and there the warrior sat,<br />
Who took me up and kissed me, as erst within the wood;<br />
And meseems in his arms I slumbered: but I wakened again and stood<br />
Alone with the kindly woman, and gone was the goodly man,<br />
And athwart the hush of the Folk-hall the moon shone bright and wan,<br />
And the woman dealt with a lamp hung up by a chain aloft,<br />
And she trimmed it and fed it with oil, while she chanted sweet and
soft<br />
A song whose words I knew not: then she ran it up again,<br />
And up in the darkness above us died the length of its wavering chain.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Yea,” said the carline, “this woman will have
been the Hall-Sun that came before thee.  What next dost thou remember?”</p>
<p>Said the maiden:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Next I mind me of the hazels behind the People’s
Roof,<br />
And the children running thither and the magpie flitting aloof,<br />
And my hand in the hand of the Hall-Sun, as after the others we went,<br />
And she soberly hearkening my prattle and the words of my intent.<br />
And now would I call her ‘Mother,’ and indeed I loved her
well.</p>
<p>“So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell;<br />
But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood,<br />
Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good.<br />
But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew,<br />
And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to<br />
Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin<br />
In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then smiled the carline and said: “Yea, he is thy foster-father,
and yet a fond one.”</p>
<p>“Sooth is that,” said the Hall-Sun.  “But
wise art thou by seeming.  Hast thou come to tell me of what kindred
I am, and who is my father and who is my mother?”</p>
<p>Said the carline: “Art thou not also wise?  Is it not
so that the Hall-Sun of the Wolfings seeth things that are to come?”</p>
<p>“Yea,” she said, “yet have I seen waking or sleeping
no other father save my foster-father; yet my very mother I have seen,
as one who should meet her in the flesh one day.”</p>
<p>“And good is that,” said the carline; and as she spoke
her face waxed kinder, and she said:</p>
<p>“Tell us more of thy days in the House of the Wolfings and
how thou faredst there.”</p>
<p>Said the Hall-Sun:</p>
<blockquote><p>“I waxed ’neath the Roof of the Wolfings,
till now to look upon<br />
I was of sixteen winters, and the love of the Folk I won,<br />
And in lovely weed they clad me like the image of a God:<br />
And lonely now full often the wild-wood ways I trod,<br />
And I feared no wild-wood creature, and my presence scared them nought;<br />
And I fell to know of wisdom, and within me stirred my thought,<br />
So that oft anights would I wander through the mead and far away,<br />
And swim the Mirkwood-water, and amidst his eddies play<br />
When earth was dark in the dawn-tide; and over all the folk<br />
I knew of the beasts’ desires, as though in words they spoke.</p>
<p>“So I saw of things that should be, were they mighty things
or small,<br />
And upon a day as it happened came the war-word to the hall,<br />
And the House must wend to the warfield, and as they sang, and played<br />
With the strings of the harp that even, and the mirth of the war-eve
made,<br />
Came the sight of the field to my eyes, and the words waxed hot in me,<br />
And I needs must show the picture of the end of the fight to be.<br />
Then I showed them the Red Wolf bristling o’er the broken fleeing
foe;<br />
And the war-gear of the fleers, and their banner did I show,<br />
To wit the Ling-worm’s image with the maiden in his mouth;<br />
There I saw my foster-father ’mid the pale blades of the South,<br />
Till aloof swept all the handplay and the hurry of the chase,<br />
And he lay along by an ash-tree, no helm about his face,<br />
No byrny on his body; and an arrow in his thigh,<br />
And a broken spear in his shoulder.  Then I saw myself draw nigh<br />
To sing the song blood-staying.  Then saw I how we twain<br />
Went ’midst of the host triumphant in the Wolfings’ banner-wain,<br />
The black bulls lowing before us athwart the warriors’ song,<br />
As up from Mirkwood-water we went our ways along<br />
To the Great Roof of the Wolfings, whence streamed the women out<br />
And the sound of their rejoicing blent with the warriors’ shout.</p>
<p>“They heard me and saw the picture, and they wotted how wise
I was grown,<br />
And they loved me, and glad were their hearts at the tale my lips had
shown;<br />
And my body clad as an image of a God to the field they bore,<br />
And I held by the mast of the banner as I looked upon their war,<br />
And endured to see unblenching on the wind-swept sunny plain<br />
All the picture of my vision by the men-folk done again.<br />
And over my Foster-father I sang the staunching-song,<br />
Till the life-blood that was ebbing flowed back to his heart the strong,<br />
And we wended back in the war-wain ’midst the gleanings of the
fight<br />
Unto the ancient dwelling and the Hall-Sun’s glimmering light.</p>
<p>“So from that day henceforward folk hung upon my words,<br />
For the battle of the autumn, and the harvest of the swords;<br />
And e’en more was I loved than aforetime.  So wore a year
away,<br />
And heavy was the burden of the lore that on me lay.</p>
<p>“But my fosterer the Hall-Sun took sick at the birth of the
year,<br />
And changed her life as the year changed, as summer drew anear.<br />
But she knew that her life was waning, and lying in her bed<br />
She taught me the lore of the Hall-Sun, and every word to be said<br />
At the trimming in the midnight and the feeding in the morn,<br />
And she laid her hands upon me ere unto the howe she was borne<br />
With the kindred gathered about us; and they wotted her weird and her
will,<br />
And hailed me for the Hall-Sun when at last she lay there still.<br />
And they did on me the garment, the holy cloth of old,<br />
And the neck-chain wrought for the goddess, and the rings of the hallowed
gold.<br />
So here am I abiding, and of things to be I tell,<br />
Yet know not what shall befall me nor why with the Wolfings I dwell.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then said the carline:</p>
<blockquote><p>“What seest thou, O daughter, of the journey of
to-day?<br />
And why wendest thou not with the war-host on the battle-echoing way?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Said the Hall-Sun.</p>
<blockquote><p>“O mother, here dwelleth the Hall-Sun while the
kin hath a dwelling-place,<br />
Nor ever again shall I look on the onset or the chase,<br />
Till the day when the Roof of the Wolfings looketh down on the girdle
of foes,<br />
And the arrow singeth over the grass of the kindred’s close;<br />
Till the pillars shake with the shouting and quivers the roof-tree dear,<br />
When the Hall of the Wolfings garners the harvest of the spear.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith she stood on her feet and turned her face to the Great
Roof, and gazed long at it, not heeding the crone by her side; and she
muttered words of whose signification the other knew not, though she
listened intently, and gazed ever at her as closely as might be.</p>
<p>Then fell the Hall-Sun utterly silent, and the lids closed over her
eyes, and her hands were clenched, and her feet pressed hard on the
daisies: her bosom heaved with sore sighs, and great tear-drops oozed
from under her eyelids and fell on to her raiment and her feet and on
to the flowery summer grass; and at the last her mouth opened and she
spake, but in a voice that was marvellously changed from that she spake
in before:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Why went ye forth, O Wolfings, from the garth
your fathers built,<br />
And the House where sorrow dieth, and all unloosed is guilt?<br />
Turn back, turn back, and behold it! lest your feet be over slow<br />
When your shields are heavy-burdened with the arrows of the foe;<br />
How ye totter, how ye stumble on the rough and corpse-strewn way!<br />
And lo, how the eve is eating the afternoon of day!<br />
O why are ye abiding till the sun is sunk in night<br />
And the forest trees are ruddy with the battle-kindled light?<br />
O rest not yet, ye Wolfings, lest void be your resting-place,<br />
And into lands that ye know not the Wolf must turn his face,<br />
And ye wander and ye wander till the land in the ocean cease,<br />
And your battle bring no safety and your labour no increase.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then was she silent for a while, and her tears ceased to flow; but
presently her eyes opened once more, and she lifted up her voice and
cried aloud—</p>
<blockquote><p>“I see, I see!  O Godfolk behold it from aloof,<br />
How the little flames steal flickering along the ridge of the Roof!<br />
They are small and red ’gainst the heavens in the summer afternoon;<br />
But when the day is dusking, white, high shall they wave to the moon.<br />
Lo, the fire plays now on the windows like strips of scarlet cloth<br />
Wind-waved! but look in the night-tide on the onset of its wrath,<br />
How it wraps round the ancient timbers and hides the mighty roof<br />
But lighteth little crannies, so lost and far aloof,<br />
That no man yet of the kindred hath seen them ere to-night,<br />
Since first the builder builded in loving and delight!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then again she stayed her speech with weeping and sobbing, but after
a while was still again, and then she spoke pointing toward the roof
with her right hand.</p>
<blockquote><p>“I see the fire-raisers and iron-helmed they are,<br />
Brown-faced about the banners that their hands have borne afar.<br />
And who in the garth of the kindred shall bear adown their shield<br />
Since the onrush of the Wolfings they caught in the open field,<br />
As the might of the mountain lion falls dead in the hempen net?<br />
O Wolfings, long have ye tarried, but the hour abideth yet.<br />
What life for the life of the people shall be given once for all,<br />
What sorrow shall stay sorrow in the half-burnt Wolfing Hall?<br />
There is nought shall quench the fire save the tears of the Godfolk’s
kin,<br />
And the heart of the life-delighter, and the life-blood cast therein.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then once again she fell silent, and her eyes closed again, and the
slow tears gushed out from them, and she sank down sobbing on the grass,
and little by little the storm of grief sank and her head fell back,
and she was as one quietly asleep.  Then the carline hung over
her and kissed her and embraced her; and then through her closed eyes
and her slumber did the Hall-Sun see a marvel; for she who was kissing
her was young in semblance and unwrinkled, and lovely to look on, with
plenteous long hair of the hue of ripe barley, and clad in glistening
raiment such as has been woven in no loom on earth.</p>
<p>And indeed it was the Wood-Sun in the semblance of a crone, who had
come to gather wisdom of the coming time from the foreseeing of the
Hall-Sun; since now at last she herself foresaw nothing of it, though
she was of the kindred of the Gods and the Fathers of the Goths. 
So when she had heard the Hall-Sun she deemed that she knew but too
well what her words meant, and what for love, what for sorrow, she grew
sick at heart as she heard them.</p>
<p>So at last she arose and turned to look at the Great Roof; and strong
and straight, and cool and dark grey showed its ridge against the pale
sky of the summer afternoon all quivering with the heat of many hours’
sun: dark showed its windows as she gazed on it, and stark and stiff
she knew were its pillars within.</p>
<p>Then she said aloud, but to herself: “What then if a merry
and mighty life be given for it, and the sorrow of the people be redeemed;
yet will not I give the life which is his; nay rather let him give the
bliss which is mine.  But oh! how may it be that he shall die joyous
and I shall live unhappy!”</p>
<p>Then she went slowly down from the Hill of Speech, and whoso saw
her deemed her but a gangrel carline.  So she went her ways and
let the wood cover her.</p>
<p>But in a little while the Hall-Sun awoke alone, and sat up with a
sigh, and she remembered nothing concerning her sight of the flickering
flame along the hall-roof, and the fire-tongues like strips of scarlet
cloth blown by the wind, nor had she any memory of her words concerning
the coming day.  But the rest of her talk with the carline she
remembered, and also the vision of the beautiful woman who had kissed
and embraced her; and she knew that it was her very mother.  Also
she perceived that she had been weeping, therefore she knew that she
had uttered words of wisdom.  For so it fared with her at whiles,
that she knew not her own words of foretelling, but spoke them out as
if in a dream.</p>
<p>So now she went down from the Hill of Speech soberly, and turned
toward the Woman’s door of the hall, and on her way she met the
women and old men and youths coming back from the meadow with little
mirth: and there were many of them who looked shyly at her as though
they would gladly have asked her somewhat, and yet durst not. 
But for her, her sadness passed away when she came among them, and she
looked kindly on this and that one of them, and entered with them into
the Woman’s Chamber, and did what came to her hand to do.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER VI—THEY TALK ON THE WAY TO THE FOLK-THING</h2>
<p>All day long one standing on the Speech-hill of the Wolfings might
have seen men in their war-array streaming along the side of Mirkwood-water,
on both sides thereof; and the last comers from the Nether-mark came
hastening all they might; for they would not be late at the trysting-place. 
But these were of a kindred called the Laxings, who bore a salmon on
their banner; and they were somewhat few in number, for they had but
of late years become a House of the Markmen.  Their banner-wain
was drawn by white horses, fleet and strong, and they were no great
band, for they had but few thralls with them, and all, free men and
thralls, were a-horseback; so they rode by hastily with their banner-wain,
their few munition-wains following as they might.</p>
<p>Now tells the tale of the men-at-arms of the Wolfings and the Beamings,
that soon they fell in with the Elking host, which was journeying but
leisurely, so that the Wolfings might catch up with them: they were
a very great kindred, the most numerous of all Mid-mark, and at this
time they had affinity with the Wolfings.  But old men of the House
remembered how they had heard their grandsires and very old men tell
that there had been a time when the Elking House had been established
by men from out of the Wolfing kindred, and how they had wandered away
from the Mark in the days when it had been first settled, and had abided
aloof for many generations of men; and so at last had come back again
to the Mark, and had taken up their habitation at a place in Mid-mark
where was dwelling but a remnant of a House called the Thyrings, who
had once been exceeding mighty, but had by that time almost utterly
perished in a great sickness which befel in those days.  So then
these two Houses, the wanderers come back and the remnant left by the
sickness of the Gods, made one House together, and increased and throve
after their coming together, and wedded with the Wolfings, and became
a very great House.</p>
<p>Gallant and glorious was their array now, as they marched along with
their banner of the Elk, which was drawn by the very beasts themselves
tamed to draught to that end through many generations; they were fatter
and sleeker than their wild-wood brethren, but not so mighty.</p>
<p>So were the men of the three kindreds somewhat mingled together on
the way.  The Wolfings were the tallest and the biggest made; but
of those dark-haired men aforesaid, were there fewest amongst the Beamings,
and most among the Elkings, as though they had drawn to them more men
of alien blood during their wanderings aforesaid.  So they talked
together and made each other good cheer, as is the wont of companions
in arms on the eve of battle; and the talk ran, as may be deemed, on
that journey and what was likely to come of it: and spake an Elking
warrior to a Wolfing by whom he rode:</p>
<p>“O Wolfkettle, hath the Hall-Sun had any foresight of the day
of battle?”</p>
<p>“Nay,” said the other, “when she lighted the farewell
candle, she bade us come back again, and spoke of the day of our return;
but that methinks, as thou and I would talk of it, thinking what would
be likely to befal.  Since we are a great host of valiant men,
and these Welshmen <a></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a>
most valiant, and as the rumour runneth bigger-bodied men than the Hun-folk,
and so well ordered as never folk have been.  So then if we overthrow
them we shall come back again; and if they overthrow us, the remnant
of us shall fall back before them till we come to our habitations; for
it is not to be looked for that they will fall in upon our rear and
prevent us, since we have the thicket of the wild-wood on our flanks.”</p>
<p>“Sooth is that,” said the Elking; “and as to the
mightiness of this folk and their customs, ye may gather somewhat from
the songs which our House yet singeth, and which ye have heard wide
about in the Mark; for this is the same folk of which a many of them
tell, making up that story-lay which is called the South-Welsh Lay;
which telleth how we have met this folk in times past when we were in
fellowship with a folk of the Welsh of like customs to ourselves: for
we of the Elkings were then but a feeble folk.  So we marched with
this folk of the Kymry and met the men of the cities, and whiles we
overthrew and whiles were overthrown, but at last in a great battle
were overthrown with so great a slaughter, that the red blood rose over
the wheels of the wains, and the city-folk fainted with the work of
the slaughter, as men who mow a match in the meadows when the swathes
are dry and heavy and the afternoon of midsummer is hot; and there they
stood and stared on the field of the slain, and knew not whether they
were in Home or Hell, so fierce the fight had been.”</p>
<p>Therewith a man of the Beamings, who was riding on the other side
of the Elking, reached out over his horse’s neck and said:</p>
<p>“Yea friend, but is there not some telling of a tale concerning
how ye and your fellowship took the great city of the Welshmen of the
South, and dwelt there long.”</p>
<p>“Yea,” said the Elking, “Hearken how it is told
in the South-Welsh Lay:</p>
<blockquote><p>   “‘Have ye not heard<br />
   Of the ways of Weird?<br />
   How the folk fared forth<br />
   Far away from the North?<br />
   And as light as one wendeth<br />
   Whereas the wood endeth,<br />
   When of nought is our need,<br />
   And none telleth our deed,<br />
So Rodgeir unwearied and Reidfari wan<br />
The town where none tarried the shield-shaking man.<br />
All lonely the street there, and void was the way<br />
And nought hindered our feet but the dead men that lay<br />
Under shield in the lanes of the houses heavens-high,<br />
All the ring-bearing swains that abode there to die.’</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Tells the Lay, that none abode the Goths and their fellowship,
but such as were mighty enough to fall before them, and the rest, both
man and woman, fled away before our folk and before the folk of the
Kymry, and left their town for us to dwell in; as saith the Lay:</p>
<blockquote><p>   “‘Glistening of gold<br />
   Did men’s eyen behold;<br />
   Shook the pale sword<br />
   O’er the unspoken word,<br />
   No man drew nigh us<br />
   With weapon to try us,<br />
   For the Welsh-wrought shield<br />
   Lay low on the field.<br />
By man’s hand unbuilded all seemed there to be,<br />
The walls ruddy gilded, the pearls of the sea:<br />
Yea all things were dead there save pillar and wall,<br />
But <i>they</i> lived and <i>they</i> said us the song of the hall;<br />
The dear hall left to perish by men of the land,<br />
For the Goth-folk to cherish with gold gaining hand.’</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“See ye how the Lay tells that the hall was bolder than the
men, who fled from it, and left all for our fellowship to deal with
in the days gone by?”</p>
<p>Said the Wolfing man:</p>
<p>“And as it was once, so shall it be again.  Maybe we shall
go far on this journey, and see at least one of the garths of the Southlands,
even those which they call cities.  For I have heard it said that
they have more cities than one only, and that so great are their kindreds,
that each liveth in a garth full of mighty houses, with a wall of stone
and lime around it; and that in every one of these garths lieth wealth
untold heaped up.  And wherefore should not all this fall to the
Markmen and their valiancy?”</p>
<p>Said the Elking:</p>
<p>“As to their many cities and the wealth of them, that is sooth;
but as to each city being the habitation of each kindred, it is otherwise:
for rather it may be said of them that they have forgotten kindred,
and have none, nor do they heed whom they wed, and great is the confusion
amongst them.  And mighty men among them ordain where they shall
dwell, and what shall be their meat, and how long they shall labour
after they are weary, and in all wise what manner of life shall be amongst
them; and though they be called free men who suffer this, yet may no
house or kindred gainsay this rule and order.  In sooth they are
a people mighty, but unhappy.”</p>
<p>Said Wolfkettle:</p>
<p>“And hast thou learned all this from the ancient story lays,
O Hiarandi?  For some of them I know, though not all, and therein
have I noted nothing of all this.  Is there some new minstrel arisen
in thine House of a memory excelling all those that have gone before? 
If that be so, I bid him to the Roof of the Wolfings as soon as may
be; for we lack new tales.”</p>
<p>“Nay,” said Hiarandi, “This that I tell thee is
not a tale of past days, but a tale of to-day.  For there came
to us a man from out of the wild-wood, and prayed us peace, and we gave
it him; and he told us that he was of a House of the Gael, and that
his House had been in a great battle against these Welshmen, whom he
calleth the Romans; and that he was taken in the battle, and sold as
a thrall in one of their garths; and howbeit, it was not their master-garth,
yet there he learned of their customs: and sore was the lesson! 
Hard was his life amongst them, for their thralls be not so well entreated
as their draught-beasts, so many do they take in battle; for they are
a mighty folk; and these thralls and those aforesaid unhappy freemen
do all tilling and herding and all deeds of craftsmanship: and above
these are men whom they call masters and lords who do nought, nay not
so much as smithy their own edge-weapons, but linger out their days
in their dwellings and out of their dwellings, lying about in the sun
or the hall-cinders, like cur-dogs who have fallen away from kind.</p>
<p>“So this man made a shift to flee away from out of that garth,
since it was not far from the great river; and being a valiant man,
and young and mighty of body, he escaped all perils and came to us through
the Mirkwood.  But we saw that he was no liar, and had been very
evilly handled, for upon his body was the mark of many a stripe, and
of the shackles that had been soldered on to his limbs; also it was
more than one of these accursed people whom he had slain when he fled. 
So he became our guest and we loved him, and he dwelt among us and yet
dwelleth, for we have taken him into our House.  But yesterday
he was sick and might not ride with us; but may be he will follow on
and catch up with us in a day or two.  And if he come not, then
will I bring him over to the Wolfings when the battle is done.”</p>
<p>Then laughed the Beaming man, and spake:</p>
<p>“How then if ye come not back, nor Wolfkettle, nor the Welsh
Guest, nor I myself?  Meseemeth no one of these Southland Cities
shall we behold, and no more of the Southlanders than their war-array.”</p>
<p>“These are evil words,” said Wolfkettle, “though
such an outcome must be thought on.  But why deemest thou this?”</p>
<p>Said the Beaming: “There is no Hall-Sun sitting under our Roof
at home to tell true tales concerning the Kindred every day.  Yet
forsooth from time to time is a word said in our Folk-hall for good
or for evil; and who can choose but hearken thereto?  And yestereve
was a woeful word spoken, and that by a man-child of ten winters.”</p>
<p>Said the Elking: “Now that thou hast told us thus much, thou
must tell us more, yea, all the word which was spoken; else belike we
shall deem of it as worse than it was.”</p>
<p>Said the Beaming: “Thus it was; this little lad brake out weeping
yestereve, when the Hall was full and feasting; and he wailed, and roared
out, as children do, and would not be pacified, and when he was asked
why he made that to do, he said: ‘Well away!  Raven hath
promised to make me a clay horse and to bake it in the kiln with the
pots next week; and now he goeth to the war, and he shall never come
back, and never shall my horse be made.’  Thereat we all
laughed as ye may well deem.  But the lad made a sour countenance
on us and said, ‘why do ye laugh? look yonder, what see ye?’ 
‘Nay,’ said one, ‘nought but the Feast-hall wall and
the hangings of the High-tide thereon.’  Then said the lad
sobbing: ‘Ye see ill: further afield see I: I see a little plain,
on a hill top, and fells beyond it far bigger than our speech-hill:
and there on the plain lieth Raven as white as parchment; and none hath
such hue save the dead.’  Then said Raven, (and he was a
young man, and was standing thereby).  ‘And well is that,
swain, to die in harness!  Yet hold up thine heart; here is Gunbert
who shall come back and bake thine horse for thee.’  ‘Nay
never more,’ quoth the child, ‘For I see his pale head lying
at Raven’s feet; but his body with the green gold-broidered kirtle
I see not.’  Then was the laughter stilled, and man after
man drew near to the child, and questioned him, and asked, ‘dost
thou see me?’ ‘dost thou see me?’  And he failed
to see but few of those that asked him.  Therefore now meseemeth
that not many of us shall see the cities of the South, and those few
belike shall look on their own shackles therewithal.”</p>
<p>“Nay,” said Hiarandi, “What is all this? heard
ye ever of a company of fighting men that fared afield, and found the
foe, and came back home leaving none behind them?”</p>
<p>Said the Beaming: “Yet seldom have I heard a child foretell
the death of warriors.  I tell thee that hadst thou been there,
thou wouldst have thought of it as if the world were coming to an end.”</p>
<p>“Well,” said Wolfkettle, “let it be as it may! 
Yet at least I will not be led away from the field by the foemen. 
Oft may a man be hindered of victory, but never of death if he willeth
it.”</p>
<p>Therewith he handled a knife that hung about his neck, and went on
to say: “But indeed, I do much marvel that no word came into the
mouth of the Hall-Sun yestereven or this morning, but such as any woman
of the kindred might say.”</p>
<p>Therewith fell their talk awhile, and as they rode they came to where
the wood drew nigher to the river, and thus the Mid-mark had an end;
for there was no House had a dwelling in the Mid-mark higher up the
water than the Elkings, save one only, not right great, who mostly fared
to war along with the Elkings: and this was the Oselings, whose banner
bore the image of the Wood-ousel, the black bird with the yellow neb;
and they had just fallen into the company of the greater House.</p>
<p>So now Mid-mark was over and past, and the serried trees of the wood
came down like a wall but a little way from the lip of the water; and
scattered trees, mostly quicken-trees grew here and there on the very
water side.  But Mirkwood-water ran deep swift and narrow between
high clean-cloven banks, so that none could dream of fording, and not
so many of swimming its dark green dangerous waters.  And the day
wore on towards evening and the glory of the western sky was unseen
because of the wall of high trees.  And still the host made on,
and because of the narrowness of the space between river and wood it
was strung out longer and looked a very great company of men. 
And moreover the men of the eastern-lying part of Mid-mark, were now
marching thick and close on the other side of the river but a little
way from the Wolfings and their fellows; for nothing but the narrow
river sundered them.</p>
<p>So night fell, and the stars shone, and the moon rose, and yet the
Wolfings and their fellows stayed not, since they wotted that behind
them followed a many of the men of the Mark, both the Mid and the Nether,
and they would by no means hinder their march.</p>
<p>So wended the Markmen between wood and stream on either side of Mirkwood-water,
till now at last the night grew deep and the moon set, and it was hard
on midnight, and they had kindled many torches to light them on either
side of the water.  So whereas they had come to a place where the
trees gave back somewhat from the river, which was well-grassed for
their horses and neat, and was called Baitmead, the companies on the
western side made stay there till morning.  And they drew the wains
right up to the thick of the wood, and all men turned aside into the
mead from the beaten road, so that those who were following after might
hold on their way if so they would.  There then they appointed
watchers of the night, while the rest of them lay upon the sward by
the side of the trees, and slept through the short summer night.</p>
<p>The tale tells not that any man dreamed of the fight to come in such
wise that there was much to tell of his dream on the morrow; many dreamed
of no fight or faring to war, but of matters little, and often laughable,
mere mingled memories of bygone time that had no waking wits to marshal
them.</p>
<p>But that man of the Beamings dreamed that he was at home watching
a potter, a man of the thralls of the House working at his wheel, and
fashioning bowls and ewers: and he had a mind to take of his clay and
fashion a horse for the lad that had bemoaned the promise of his toy. 
And he tried long and failed to fashion anything; for the clay fell
to pieces in his hands; till at last it held together and grew suddenly,
not into an image of a horse, but of the Great Yule Boar, the similitude
of the Holy Beast of Frey.  So he laughed in his sleep and was
glad, and leaped up and drew his sword with his clay-stained hands that
he might wave it over the Earth Boar, and swear a great oath of a doughty
deed.  And therewith he found himself standing on his feet indeed,
just awakened in the cold dawn, and holding by his right hand to an
ash-sapling that grew beside him.  So he laughed again, and laid
him down, and leaned back and slept his sleep out till the sun and the
voices of his fellows stirring awakened him.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER VII—THEY GATHER TO THE FOLK-MOTE</h2>
<p>When it was the morning, all the host of the Markmen was astir on
either side of the water, and when they had broken their fast, they
got speedily into array, and were presently on the road again; and the
host was now strung out longer yet, for the space between water and
wood once more diminished till at last it was no wider than ten men
might go abreast, and looking ahead it was as if the wild-wood swallowed
up both river and road.</p>
<p>But the fighting-men hastened on merrily with their hearts raised
high, since they knew that they would soon be falling in with more of
their people, and the coming fight was growing a clearer picture to
their eyes; so from side to side of the river they shouted out the cries
of their Houses, or friend called to friend across the eddies of Mirkwood-water,
and there was game and glee enough.</p>
<p>So they fared till the wood gave way before them, and lo, the beginning
of another plain, somewhat like the Mid-mark.  There also the water
widened out before them, and there were eyots in it with stony shores
crowned with willow or with alder, and aspens rising from the midst
of them.</p>
<p>But as for the plain, it was thus much different from Mid-mark, that
the wood which begirt it rose on the south into low hills, and away
beyond them were other hills blue in the distance, for the most bare
of wood, and not right high, the pastures of the wild-bull and the bison,
whereas now dwelt a folk somewhat scattered and feeble; hunters and
herdsmen, with little tillage about their abodes, a folk akin to the
Markmen and allied to them.  They had come into those parts later
than the Markmen, as the old tales told; which said moreover that in
days gone by a folk dwelt among those hills who were alien from the
Goths, and great foes to the Markmen; and how that on a time they came
down from their hills with a great host, together with new-comers of
their own blood, and made their way through the wild-wood, and fell
upon the Upper-mark; and how that there befel a fearful battle that
endured for three days; and the first day the Aliens worsted the Markmen,
who were but a few, since they were they of the Upper-mark only. 
So the Aliens burned their houses and slew their old men, and drave
off many of their women and children; and the remnant of the men of
the Upper-mark with all that they had, which was now but little, took
refuge in an island of Mirkwood-water, where they fenced themselves
as well as they could for that night; for they expected the succour
of their kindred of the Mid-mark and the Nether-mark, unto whom they
had sped the war-arrow when they first had tidings of the onset of the
Aliens.</p>
<p>So at the sun-rising they sacrificed to the Gods twenty chieftains
of the Aliens whom they had taken, and therewithal a maiden of their
own kindred, the daughter of their war-duke, that she might lead that
mighty company to the House of the Gods; and thereto was she nothing
loth, but went right willingly.</p>
<p>There then they awaited the onset.  But the men of Mid-mark
came up in the morning, when the battle was but just joined, and fell
on so fiercely that the aliens gave back, and then they of the Upper-mark
stormed out of their eyot, and fell on over the ford, and fought till
the water ran red with their blood, and the blood of the foemen. 
So the Aliens gave back before the onset of the Markmen all over the
meads; but when they came to the hillocks and the tofts of the half-burned
habitations, and the wood was on their flank, they made a stand again,
and once more the battle waxed hot, for they were very many, and had
many bowmen: there fell the War-duke of the Markmen, whose daughter
had been offered up for victory, and his name was Agni, so that the
tofts where he fell have since been called Agni’s Tofts. 
So that day they fought all over the plain, and a great many died, both
of the Aliens and the Markmen, and though these last were victorious,
yet when the sun went down there still were the Aliens abiding in the
Upper-mark, fenced by their wain-burg, beaten, and much diminished in
number, but still a host of men: while of the Markmen many had fallen,
and many more were hurt, because the Aliens were good bowmen.</p>
<p>But on the morrow again, as the old tale told, came up the men of
the Nether-mark fresh and unwounded; and so the battle began again on
the southern limit of the Upper-mark where the Aliens had made their
wain-burg.  But not long did it endure; for the Markmen fell on
so fiercely, that they stormed over the wain-burg, and slew all before
them, and there was a very great slaughter of the Aliens; so great,
tells the old tale, that never again durst they meet the Markmen in
war.</p>
<p>Thus went forth the host of the Markmen, faring along both sides
of the water into the Upper-mark; and on the west side, where went the
Wolfings, the ground now rose by a long slope into a low hill, and when
they came unto the brow thereof, they beheld before them the whole plain
of the Upper-mark, and the dwellings of the kindred therein all girdled
about by the wild-wood; and beyond, the blue hills of the herdsmen,
and beyond them still, a long way aloof, lying like a white cloud on
the verge of the heavens, the snowy tops of the great mountains. 
And as they looked down on to the plain they saw it embroidered, as
it were, round about the habitations which lay within ken by crowds
of many people, and the banners of the kindreds and the arms of men;
and many a place they saw named after the ancient battle and that great
slaughter of the Aliens.</p>
<p>On their left hand lay the river, and as it now fairly entered with
them into the Upper-mark, it spread out into wide rippling shallows
beset with yet more sandy eyots, amongst which was one much greater,
rising amidmost into a low hill, grassy and bare of tree or bush; and
this was the island whereon the Markmen stood on the first day of the
Great Battle, and it was now called the Island of the Gods.</p>
<p>Thereby was the ford, which was firm and good and changed little
from year to year, so that all Markmen knew it well and it was called
Battleford: thereover now crossed all the eastern companies, footmen
and horsemen, freemen and thralls, wains and banners, with shouting
and laughter, and the noise of horns and the lowing of neat, till all
that plain’s end was flooded with the host of the Markmen.</p>
<p>But when the eastern-abiders had crossed, they made no stay, but
went duly ordered about their banners, winding on toward the first of
the abodes on the western side of the water; because it was but a little
way southwest of this that the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark lay; and
the whole Folk was summoned thither when war threatened from the South,
just as it was called to the Thing-stead of the Nether-mark, when the
threat of war came from the North.  But the western companies stayed
on the brow of that low hill till all the eastern men were over the
river, and on their way to the Thing-stead, and then they moved on.</p>
<p>So came the Wolfings and their fellows up to the dwellings of the
northernmost kindred, who were called the Daylings, and bore on their
banner the image of the rising sun.  Thereabout was the Mark somewhat
more hilly and broken than in the Mid-mark, so that the Great Roof of
the Daylings, which was a very big house, stood on a hillock whose sides
had been cleft down sheer on all sides save one (which was left as a
bridge) by the labour of men, and it was a very defensible place.</p>
<p>Thereon were now gathered round about the Roof all the stay-at-homes
of the kindred, who greeted with joyous cries the men-at-arms as they
passed.  Albeit one very old man, who sat in a chair near to the
edge of the sheer hill looking on the war array, when he saw the Wolfing
banner draw near, stood up to gaze on it, and then shook his head sadly,
and sank back again into his chair, and covered his face with his hands:
and when the folk saw that, a silence bred of the coldness of fear fell
on them, for that elder was deemed a foreseeing man.</p>
<p>But as those three fellows, of whose talk of yesterday the tale has
told, drew near and beheld what the old carle did (for they were riding
together this day also) the Beaming man laid his hand on Wolfkettle’s
rein and said:</p>
<p>“Lo you, neighbour, if thy Vala hath seen nought, yet hath
this old man seen somewhat, and that somewhat even as the little lad
saw it.  Many a mother’s son shall fall before the Welshmen.”</p>
<p>But Wolfkettle shook his rein free, and his face reddened as of one
who is angry, yet he kept silence, while the Elking said:</p>
<p>“Let be, Toti! for he that lives shall tell the tale to the
foreseers, and shall make them wiser than they are to-day.”</p>
<p>Then laughed Toti, as one who would not be thought to be too heedful
of the morrow.  But Wolfkettle brake out into speech and rhyme,
and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O warriors, the Wolfing kindred shall live or
it shall die;<br />
And alive it shall be as the oak-tree when the summer storm goes by;<br />
But dead it shall be as its bole, that they hew for the corner-post<br />
Of some fair and mighty folk-hall, and the roof of a war-fain host.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So therewith they rode their ways past the abode of the Daylings.</p>
<p>Straight to the wood went all the host, and so into it by a wide
way cleft through the thicket, and in some thirty minutes they came
thereby into a great wood-lawn cleared amidst of it by the work of men’s
hands.  There already was much of the host gathered, sitting or
standing in a great ring round about a space bare of men, where amidmost
rose a great mound raised by men’s hands and wrought into steps
to be the sitting-places of the chosen elders and chief men of the kindred;
and atop the mound was flat and smooth save for a turf bench or seat
that went athwart it whereon ten men might sit.</p>
<p>All the wains save the banner-wains had been left behind at the Dayling
abode, nor was any beast there save the holy beasts who drew the banner-wains
and twenty white horses, that stood wreathed about with flowers within
the ring of warriors, and these were for the burnt offering to be given
to the Gods for a happy day of battle.  Even the war-horses of
the host they must leave in the wood without the wood-lawn, and all
men were afoot who were there.</p>
<p>For this was the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark, and the holiest place
of the Markmen, and no beast, either neat, sheep, or horse might pasture
there, but was straightway slain and burned if he wandered there; nor
might any man eat therein save at the holy feasts when offerings were
made to the Gods.</p>
<p>So the Wolfings took their place there in the ring of men with the
Elkings on their right hand and the Beamings on their left.  And
in the midst of the Wolfing array stood Thiodolf clad in the dwarf-wrought
hauberk: but his head was bare; for he had sworn over the Cup of Renown
that he would fight unhelmed throughout all that trouble, and would
bear no shield in any battle thereof however fierce the onset might
be.</p>
<p>Short, and curling close to his head was his black hair, a little
grizzled, so that it looked like rings of hard dark iron: his forehead
was high and smooth, his lips full and red, his eyes steady and wide-open,
and all his face joyous with the thought of the fame of his deeds, and
the coming battle with a foeman whom the Markmen knew not yet.</p>
<p>He was tall and wide-shouldered, but so exceeding well fashioned
of all his limbs and body that he looked no huge man.  He was a
man well beloved of women, and children would mostly run to him gladly
and play with him.  A most fell warrior was he, whose deeds no
man of the Mark could equal, but blithe of speech even when he was sorrowful
of mood, a man that knew not bitterness of heart: and for all his exceeding
might and valiancy, he was proud and high to no man; so that the very
thralls loved him.</p>
<p>He was not abounding in words in the field; nor did he use much the
custom of those days in reviling and defying with words the foe that
was to be smitten with swords.</p>
<p>There were those who had seen him in the field for the first time
who deemed him slack at the work: for he would not always press on with
the foremost, but would hold him a little aback, and while the battle
was young he forbore to smite, and would do nothing but help a kinsman
who was hard pressed, or succour the wounded.  So that if men were
dealing with no very hard matter, and their hearts were high and overweening,
he would come home at whiles with unbloodied blade.  But no man
blamed him save those who knew him not: for his intent was that the
younger men should win themselves fame, and so raise their courage,
and become high-hearted and stout.</p>
<p>But when the stour was hard, and the battle was broken, and the hearts
of men began to fail them, and doubt fell upon the Markmen, then was
he another man to see: wise, but swift and dangerous, rushing on as
if shot out by some mighty engine: heedful of all, on either side and
in front; running hither and thither as the fight failed and the fire
of battle faltered; his sword so swift and deadly that it was as if
he wielded the very lightening of the heavens: for with the sword it
was ever his wont to fight.</p>
<p>But it must be said that when the foemen turned their backs, and
the chase began, then Thiodolf would nowise withhold his might as in
the early battle, but ever led the chase, and smote on the right hand
and on the left, sparing none, and crying out to the men of the kindred
not to weary in their work, but to fulfil all the hours of their day.</p>
<p>For thuswise would he say and this was a word of his:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Let us rest to-morrow, fellows, since to-day we
have fought amain!<br />
Let not these men we have smitten come aback on our hands again,<br />
And say ‘Ye Wolfing warriors, ye have done your work but ill,<br />
Fall to now and do it again, like the craftsman who learneth his skill.’”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Such then was Thiodolf, and ever was he the chosen leader of the
Wolfings and often the War-duke of the whole Folk.</p>
<p>By his side stood the other chosen leader, whose name was Heriulf;
a man well stricken in years, but very mighty and valiant; wise in war
and well renowned; of few words save in battle, and therein a singer
of songs, a laugher, a joyous man, a merry companion.  He was a
much bigger man than Thiodolf; and indeed so huge was his stature, that
he seemed to be of the kindred of the Mountain Giants; and his bodily
might went with his stature, so that no one man might deal with him
body to body.  His face was big; his cheek-bones high; his nose
like an eagle’s neb, his mouth wide, his chin square and big;
his eyes light-grey and fierce under shaggy eyebrows: his hair white
and long.</p>
<p>Such were his raiment and weapons, that he wore a coat of fence of
dark iron scales sewn on to horse-hide, and a dark iron helm fashioned
above his brow into the similitude of the Wolf’s head with gaping
jaws; and this he had wrought for himself with his own hands, for he
was a good smith.  A round buckler he bore and a huge twibill,
which no man of the kindred could well wield save himself; and it was
done both blade and shaft with knots and runes in gold; and he loved
that twibill well, and called it the Wolf’s Sister.</p>
<p>There then stood Heriulf, looking no less than one of the forefathers
of the kindred come back again to the battle of the Wolfings.</p>
<p>He was well-beloved for his wondrous might, and he was no hard man,
though so fell a warrior, and though of few words, as aforesaid, was
a blithe companion to old and young.  In numberless battles had
he fought, and men deemed it a wonder that Odin had not taken to him
a man so much after his own heart; and they said it was neighbourly
done of the Father of the Slain to forbear his company so long, and
showed how well he loved the Wolfing House.</p>
<p>For a good while yet came other bands of Markmen into the Thing-stead;
but at last there was an end of their coming.  Then the ring of
men opened, and ten warriors of the Daylings made their way through
it, and one of them, the oldest, bore in his hand the War-horn of the
Daylings; for this kindred had charge of the Thing-stead, and of all
appertaining to it.  So while his nine fellows stood round about
the Speech-Hill, the old warrior clomb up to the topmost of it, and
blew a blast on the horn.  Thereon they who were sitting rose up,
and they who were talking each to each held their peace, and the whole
ring drew nigher to the hill, so that there was a clear space behind
them ’twixt them and the wood, and a space before them between
them and the hill, wherein were those nine warriors, and the horses
for the burnt-offering, and the altar of the Gods; and now were all
well within ear-shot of a man speaking amidst the silence in a clear
voice.</p>
<p>But there were gathered of the Markmen to that place some four thousand
men, all chosen warriors and doughty men; and of the thralls and aliens
dwelling with them they were leading two thousand.  But not all
of the freemen of the Upper-mark could be at the Thing; for needs must
there be some guard to the passes of the wood toward the south and the
hills of the herdsmen, whereas it was no wise impassable to a wisely
led host: so five hundred men, what of freemen, what of thralls, abode
there to guard the wild-wood; and these looked to have some helping
from the hill-men.</p>
<p>Now came an ancient warrior into the space between the men and the
wild-wood holding in his hand a kindled torch; and first he faced due
south by the sun, then, turning, he slowly paced the whole circle going
from east to west, and so on till he had reached the place he started
from: then he dashed the torch to the ground and quenched the fire,
and so went his ways to his own company again.</p>
<p>Then the old Dayling warrior on the mound-top drew his sword, and
waved it flashing in the sun toward the four quarters of the heavens;
and thereafter blew again a blast on the War-horn.  Then fell utter
silence on the whole assembly, and the wood was still around them, save
here and there the stamping of a war-horse or the sound of his tugging
at the woodland grass; for there was little resort of birds to the depths
of the thicket, and the summer morning was windless.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER VIII—THE FOLK-MOTE OF THE MARKMEN</h2>
<p>So the Dayling warrior lifted up his voice and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O kindreds of the Markmen, hearken the words I
say;<br />
For no chancehap assembly is gathered here to-day.<br />
The fire hath gone around us in the hands of our very kin,<br />
And twice the horn hath sounded, and the Thing is hallowed in.<br />
Will ye hear or forbear to hearken the tale there is to tell?<br />
There are many mouths to tell it, and a many know it well.<br />
And the tale is this, that the foemen against our kindreds fare<br />
Who eat the meadows desert, and burn the desert bare.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then sat he down on the turf seat; but there arose a murmur in the
assembly as of men eager to hearken; and without more ado came a man
out of a company of the Upper-mark, and clomb up to the top of the Speech-Hill,
and spoke in a loud voice:</p>
<p>“I am Bork, a man of the Geirings of the Upper-mark: two days
ago I and five others were in the wild-wood a-hunting, and we wended
through the thicket, and came into the land of the hill-folk; and after
we had gone a while we came to a long dale with a brook running through
it, and yew-trees scattered about it and a hazel copse at one end; and
by the copse was a band of men who had women and children with them,
and a few neat, and fewer horses; but sheep were feeding up and down
the dale; and they had made them booths of turf and boughs, and were
making ready their cooking fires, for it was evening.  So when
they saw us, they ran to their arms, but we cried out to them in the
tongue of the Goths and bade them peace.  Then they came up the
bent to us and spake to us in the Gothic tongue, albeit a little diversely
from us; and when we had told them what and whence we were, they were
glad of us, and bade us to them, and we went, and they entreated us
kindly, and made us such cheer as they might, and gave us mutton to
eat, and we gave them venison of the wild-wood which we had taken, and
we abode with them there that night.</p>
<p>“But they told us that they were a house of the folk of the
herdsmen, and that there was war in the land, and that the people thereof
were fleeing before the cruelty of a host of warriors, men of a mighty
folk, such as the earth hath not heard of, who dwell in great cities
far to the south; and how that this host had crossed the mountains,
and the Great Water that runneth from them, and had fallen upon their
kindred, and overcome their fighting-men, and burned their dwellings,
slain their elders, and driven their neat and their sheep, yea, and
their women and children in no better wise than their neat and sheep.</p>
<p>“And they said that they had fled away thus far from their
old habitations, which were a long way to the south, and were now at
point to build them dwellings there in that Dale of the Hazels, and
to trust to it that these Welshmen, whom they called Romans, would not
follow so far, and that if they did, they might betake them to the wild-wood,
and let the thicket cover them, they being so nigh to it.</p>
<p>“Thus they told us; wherefore we sent back one of our fellowship,
Birsti of the Geirings, to tell the tale; and one of the herdsmen folk
went with him, but we ourselves went onward to hear more of these Romans;
for the folk when we asked them, said that they had been in battle against
them, but had fled away for fear of their rumour only.  Therefore
we went on, and a young man of this kindred, who named themselves the
Hrutings of the Fell-folk, went along with us.  But the others
were sore afeard, for all they had weapons.</p>
<p>“So as we went up the land we found they had told us the very
sooth, and we met divers Houses, and bands, and broken men, who were
fleeing from this trouble, and many of them poor and in misery, having
lost their flocks and herds as well as their roofs; and this last be
but little loss to them, as their dwellings are but poor, and for the
most part they have no tillage.  Now of these men, we met not a
few who had been in battle with the Roman host, and much they told us
of their might not to be dealt with, and their mishandling of those
whom they took, both men and women; and at the last we heard true tidings
how they had raised them a garth, and made a stronghold in the midst
of the land, as men who meant abiding there, so that neither might the
winter drive them aback, and that they might be succoured by their people
on the other side of the Great River; to which end they have made other
garths, though not so great, on the road to that water, and all these
well and wisely warded by tried men.  For as to the Folks on the
other side of the Water, all these lie under their hand already, what
by fraud what by force, and their warriors go with them to the battle
and help them; of whom we met bands now and again, and fought with them,
and took men of them, who told us all this and much more, over long
to tell of here.”</p>
<p>He paused and turned about to look on the mighty assembly, and his
ears drank in the long murmur that followed his speaking, and when it
had died out he spake again, but in rhyme:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Lo thus much of my tidings!  But this too
it behoveth to tell,<br />
That these masterful men of the cities of the Markmen know full well:<br />
And they wot of the well-grassed meadows, and the acres of the Mark,<br />
And our life amidst of the wild-wood like a candle in the dark;<br />
And they know of our young men’s valour and our women’s
loveliness,<br />
And our tree would they spoil with destruction if its fruit they may
never possess.<br />
For their lust is without a limit, and nought may satiate<br />
Their ravening maw; and their hunger if ye check it turneth to hate,<br />
And the blood-fever burns in their bosoms, and torment and anguish and
woe<br />
O’er the wide field ploughed by the sword-blade for the coming
years they sow;<br />
And ruth is a thing forgotten and all hopes they trample down;<br />
And whatso thing is steadfast, whatso of good renown,<br />
Whatso is fair and lovely, whatso is ancient sooth<br />
In the bloody marl shall they mingle as they laugh for lack of ruth.<br />
Lo the curse of the world cometh hither; for the men that we took in
the land<br />
Said thus, that their host is gathering with many an ordered band<br />
To fall on the wild-wood passes and flood the lovely Mark,<br />
As the river over the meadows upriseth in the dark.<br />
Look to it, O ye kindred! availeth now no word<br />
But the voice of the clashing of iron, and the sword-blade on the sword.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he made an end, and deeper and longer was the murmur of
the host of freemen, amidst which Bork gat him down from the Speech-Hill,
his weapons clattering about him, and mingled with the men of his kindred.</p>
<p>Then came forth a man of the kin of the Shieldings of the Upper-mark,
and clomb the mound; and he spake in rhyme from beginning to end; for
he was a minstrel of renown:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Lo I am a man of the Shieldings and Geirmund is
my name;<br />
A half-moon back from the wild-wood out into the hills I came,<br />
And I went alone in my war-gear; for we have affinity<br />
With the Hundings of the Fell-folk, and with them I fain would be;<br />
For I loved a maid of their kindred.  Now their dwelling was not
far<br />
From the outermost bounds of the Fell-folk, and bold in the battle they
are,<br />
And have met a many people, and held their own abode.<br />
Gay then was the heart within me, as over the hills I rode<br />
And thought of the mirth of to-morrow and the sweet-mouthed Hunding
maid<br />
And their old men wise and merry and their young men unafraid,<br />
And the hall-glee of the Hundings and the healths o’er the guesting
cup.<br />
But as I rode the valley, I saw a smoke go up<br />
O’er the crest of the last of the grass-hills ’twixt me
and the Hunding roof,<br />
And that smoke was black and heavy: so a while I bided aloof,<br />
And drew my girths the tighter, and looked to the arms I bore<br />
And handled my spear for the casting; for my heart misgave me sore,<br />
For nought was that pillar of smoke like the guest-fain cooking-fire.<br />
I lingered in thought for a minute, then turned me to ride up higher,<br />
And as a man most wary up over the bent I rode,<br />
And nigh hid peered o’er the hill-crest adown on the Hunding abode;<br />
And forsooth ’twas the fire wavering all o’er the roof of
old,<br />
And all in the garth and about it lay the bodies of the bold;<br />
And bound to a rope amidmost were the women fair and young,<br />
And youths and little children, like the fish on a withy strung<br />
As they lie on the grass for the angler before the beginning of night.<br />
Then the rush of the wrath within me for a while nigh blinded my sight;<br />
Yet about the cowering war-thralls, short dark-faced men I saw,<br />
Men clad in iron armour, this way and that way draw,<br />
As warriors after the battle are ever wont to do.<br />
Then I knew them for the foemen and their deeds to be I knew,<br />
And I gathered the reins together to ride down the hill amain,<br />
To die with a good stroke stricken and slay ere I was slain.<br />
When lo, on the bent before me rose the head of a brown-faced man,<br />
Well helmed and iron-shielded, who some Welsh speech began<br />
And a short sword brandished against me; then my sight cleared and I
saw<br />
Five others armed in likewise up hill and toward me draw,<br />
And I shook the spear and sped it and clattering on his shield<br />
He fell and rolled o’er smitten toward the garth and the Fell-folk’s
field.</p>
<p>“But my heart changed with his falling and the speeding of
my stroke,<br />
And I turned my horse; for within me the love of life awoke,<br />
And I spurred, nor heeded the hill-side, but o’er rough and smooth
I rode<br />
Till I heard no chase behind me; then I drew rein and abode.<br />
And down in a dell was I gotten with a thorn-brake in its throat,<br />
And heard but the plover’s whistle and the blackbird’s broken
note<br />
’Mid the thorns; when lo! from a thorn-twig away the blackbird
swept,<br />
And out from the brake and towards me a naked man there crept,<br />
And straight I rode up towards him, and knew his face for one<br />
I had seen in the hall of the Hundings ere its happy days were done.<br />
I asked him his tale, but he bade me forthright to bear him away;<br />
So I took him up behind me, and we rode till late in the day,<br />
Toward the cover of the wild-wood, and as swiftly as we might.<br />
But when yet aloof was the thicket and it now was moonless night,<br />
We stayed perforce for a little, and he told me all the tale:<br />
How the aliens came against them, and they fought without avail<br />
Till the Roof o’er their heads was burning and they burst forth
on the foe,<br />
And were hewn down there together; nor yet was the slaughter slow.<br />
But some they saved for thralldom, yea, e’en of the fighting men,<br />
Or to quell them with pains; so they stripped them; and this man espying
just then<br />
Some chance, I mind not whatwise, from the garth fled out and away.</p>
<p>“Now many a thing noteworthy of these aliens did he say,<br />
But this I bid you hearken, lest I wear the time for nought,<br />
That still upon the Markmen and the Mark they set their thought;<br />
For they questioned this man and others through a go-between in words<br />
Of us, and our lands and our chattels, and the number of our swords;<br />
Of the way and the wild-wood passes and the winter and his ways.<br />
Now look to see them shortly; for worn are fifteen days<br />
Since in the garth of the Hundings I saw them dight for war,<br />
And a hardy folk and ready and a swift-foot host they are.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith Geirmund went down clattering from the Hill and stood with
his company.  But a man came forth from the other side of the ring,
and clomb the Hill: he was a red-haired man, rather big, clad in a skin
coat, and bearing a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows at his back,
and a little axe hung by his side.  He said:</p>
<p>“I dwell in the House of the Hrossings of the Mid-mark, and
I am now made a man of the kindred: howbeit I was not born into it;
for I am the son of a fair and mighty woman of a folk of the Kymry,
who was taken in war while she went big with me; I am called Fox the
Red.</p>
<p>“These Romans have I seen, and have not died: so hearken! for
my tale shall be short for what there is in it.</p>
<p>“I am, as many know, a hunter of Mirkwood, and I know all its
ways and the passes through the thicket somewhat better than most.</p>
<p>“A moon ago I fared afoot from Mid-mark through Upper-mark
into the thicket of the south, and through it into the heath country;
and I went over a neck and came in the early dawn into a little dale
when somewhat of mist still hung over it.  At the dale’s
end I saw a man lying asleep on the grass under a quicken tree, and
his shield and sword hanging over his head to a bough thereof, and his
horse feeding hoppled higher up the dale.</p>
<p>“I crept up softly to him with a shaft nocked on the string,
but when I drew near I saw him to be of the sons of the Goths. 
So I doubted nothing, but laid down my bow, and stood upright, and went
to him and roused him, and he leapt up, and was wroth.</p>
<p>“I said to him, ‘Wilt thou be wroth with a brother of
the kindred meeting him in unpeopled parts?’</p>
<p>“But he reached out for his weapons; but ere he could handle
them I ran in on him so that he gat not his sword, and had scant time
to smite at me with a knife which he drew from his waist.</p>
<p>“I gave way before him for he was a very big man, and he rushed
past me, and I dealt him a blow on the side of the head with my little
axe which is called the War-babe, and gave him a great wound: and he
fell on the grass, and as it happened that was his bane.</p>
<p>“I was sorry that I had slain him, since he was a man of the
Goths: albeit otherwise he had slain me, for he was very wroth and dazed
with slumber.</p>
<p>“He died not for a while; and he bade me fetch him water; and
there was a well hard by on the other side of the tree; so I fetched
it him in a great shell that I carry, and he drank.  I would have
sung the blood-staunching song over him, for I know it well.  But
he said, ‘It availeth nought: I have enough: what man art thou?’</p>
<p>“I said, ‘I am a fosterling of the Hrossings, and my
mother was taken in war: my name is Fox.’</p>
<p>“Said he; ‘O Fox, I have my due at thy hands, for I am
a Markman of the Elkings, but a guest of the Burgundians beyond the
Great River; and the Romans are their masters and they do their bidding:
even so did I who was but their guest: and I a Markman to fight against
the Markmen, and all for fear and for gold!  And thou an alien-born
hast slain their traitor and their dastard!  This is my due. 
Give me to drink again.’</p>
<p>“So did I; and he said; ‘Wilt thou do an errand for me
to thine own house?’  ‘Yea,’ said I.</p>
<p>“Said he, ‘I am a messenger to the garth of the Romans,
that I may tell the road to the Mark, and lead them through the thicket;
and other guides are coming after me: but not yet for three days or
four.  So till they come there will be no man in the Roman garth
to know thee that thou art not even I myself.  If thou art doughty,
strip me when I am dead and do my raiment on thee, and take this ring
from my neck, for that is my token, and when they ask thee for a word
say, “<i>No limit</i>”; for that is the token-word. 
Go south-east over the dales keeping Broadshield-fell square with thy
right hand, and let thy wisdom, O Fox, lead thee to the Garth of the
Romans, and so back to thy kindred with all tidings thou hast gathered—for
indeed they come—a many of them.  Give me to drink.’</p>
<p>“So he drank again, and said, ‘The bearer of this token
is called Hrosstyr of the River Goths.  He hath that name among
dastards.  Thou shalt lay a turf upon my head.  Let my death
pay for my life.’</p>
<p>“Therewith he fell back and died.  So I did as he bade
me and took his gear, worth six kine, and did it on me; I laid turf
upon him in that dale, and hid my bow and my gear in a blackthorn brake
hard by, and then took his horse and rode away.</p>
<p>“Day and night I rode till I came to the garth of the Romans;
there I gave myself up to their watchers, and they brought me to their
Duke, a grim man and hard.  He said in a terrible voice, ‘Thy
name?’  I said, ‘Hrosstyr of the River Goths.’ 
He said, ‘What limit?’  I answered, ‘<i>No limit</i>.’ 
‘The token!’ said he, and held out his hand.  I gave
him the ring.  ‘Thou art the man,’ said he.</p>
<p>“I thought in my heart, ‘thou liest, lord,’ and
my heart danced for joy.</p>
<p>“Then he fell to asking me questions a many, and I answered
every one glibly enough, and told him what I would, but no word of truth
save for his hurt, and my soul laughed within me at my lies; thought
I, the others, the traitors, shall come, and they shall tell him the
truth, and he will not trow it, or at the worst he will doubt them. 
But me he doubted nothing, else had he called in the tormentors to have
the truth of me by pains; as I well saw afterwards, when they questioned
with torments a man and a woman of the hill-folk whom they had brought
in captive.</p>
<p>“I went from him and went all about that garth espying everything,
fearing nothing; albeit there were divers woful captives of the Goths,
who cursed me for a dastard, when they saw by my attire that I was of
their blood.</p>
<p>“I abode there three days, and learned all that I might of
the garth and the host of them, and the fourth day in the morning I
went out as if to hunt, and none hindered me, for they doubted me not.</p>
<p>“So I came my ways home to the Upper-mark, and was guested
with the Geirings.  Will ye that I tell you somewhat of the ways
of these Romans of the garth?  The time presses, and my tale runneth
longer than I would.  What will ye?”</p>
<p>Then there arose a murmur, “Tell all, tell all.” 
“Nay,” said the Fox, “All I may not tell; so much
did I behold there during the three days’ stay; but this much
it behoveth you to know: that these men have no other thought save to
win the Mark and waste it, and slay the fighting men and the old carles,
and enthrall such as they will, that is, all that be fair and young,
and they long sorely for our women either to have or to sell.</p>
<p>“As for their garth, it is strongly walled about with a dyke
newly dug; on the top thereof are they building a wall made of clay,
and burned like pots into ashlar stones hard and red, and these are
laid in lime.</p>
<p>“It is now the toil of the thralls of our blood whom they have
taken, both men and women, to dig that clay and to work it, and bear
it to kilns, and to have for reward scant meat and many stripes. 
For it is a grim folk, that laugheth to see others weep.</p>
<p>“Their men-at-arms are well dight and for the most part in
one way: they are helmed with iron, and have iron on their breasts and
reins, and bear long shields that cover them to the knees.  They
are girt with a sax and have a heavy casting-spear.  They are dark-skinned
and ugly of aspect, surly and of few words: they drink little, and eat
not much.</p>
<p>“They have captains of tens and of hundreds over them, and
that war-duke over all; he goeth to and fro with gold on his head and
his breast, and commonly hath a cloak cast over him of the colour of
the crane’s-bill blossom.</p>
<p>“They have an altar in the midst of their burg, and thereon
they sacrifice to their God, who is none other than their banner of
war, which is an image of the ravening eagle with outspread wings; but
yet another God they have, and look you! it is a wolf, as if they were
of the kin of our brethren; a she-wolf and two man-children at her dugs;
wonderful is this.</p>
<p>“I tell you that they are grim; and know it by this token:
those captains of tens, and of hundreds, spare not to smite the warriors
with staves even before all men, when all goeth not as they would; and
yet, though they be free men, and mighty warriors, they endure it and
smite not in turn.  They are a most evil folk.</p>
<p>“As to their numbers, they of the burg are hard on three thousand
footmen of the best; and of horsemen five hundred, nowise good; and
of bowmen and slingers six hundred or more: their bows weak; their slingers
cunning beyond measure.  And the talk is that when they come upon
us they shall have with them some five hundred warriors of the Over
River Goths, and others of their own folk.”</p>
<p>Then he said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O men of the Mark, will ye meet them in the meadows
and the field,<br />
Or will ye flee before them and have the wood for a shield?<br />
Or will ye wend to their war-burg with weapons cast away,<br />
With your women and your children, a peace of them to pray?<br />
So doing, not all shall perish; but most shall long to die<br />
Ere in the garths of the Southland two moons have loitered by.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then rose the rumour loud and angry mingled with the rattle of swords
and the clash of spears on shields; but Fox said:</p>
<p>“Needs must ye follow one of these three ways.  Nay, what
say I? there are but two ways and not three; for if ye flee they shall
follow you to the confines of the earth.  Either these Welsh shall
take all, and our lives to boot, or we shall hold to all that is ours,
and live merrily.  The sword doometh; and in three days it may
be the courts shall be hallowed: small is the space between us.”</p>
<p>Therewith he also got him down from the Hill, and joined his own
house: and men said that he had spoken well and wisely.  But there
arose a noise of men talking together on these tidings; and amidst it
an old warrior of the Nether-mark strode forth and up to the Hill-top. 
Gaunt and stark he was to look on; and all men knew him and he was well-beloved,
so all held their peace as he said:</p>
<p>“I am Otter of the Laxings: now needeth but few words till
the War-duke is chosen, and we get ready to wend our ways in arms. 
Here have ye heard three good men and true tell of our foes, and this
last, Fox the Red, hath seen them and hath more to tell when we are
on the way; nor is the way hard to find.  It were scarce well to
fall upon these men in their garth and war-burg; for hard is a wall
to slay.  Better it were to meet them in the Wild-wood, which may
well be a friend to us and a wall, but to them a net.  O Agni of
the Daylings, thou warder of the Thing-stead, bid men choose a War-duke
if none gainsay it.”</p>
<p>And without more words he clattered down the Hill, and went and stood
with the Laxing band.  But the old Dayling arose and blew the horn,
and there was at once a great silence, amidst which he said:</p>
<p>“Children of Slains-father, doth the Folk go to the war?”</p>
<p>There was no voice but shouted “yea,” and the white swords
sprang aloft, and the westering sun swept along a half of them as they
tossed to and fro, and the others showed dead-white and fireless against
the dark wood.</p>
<p>Then again spake Agni:</p>
<p>“Will ye choose the War-duke now and once, or shall it be in
a while, after others have spoken?”</p>
<p>And the voice of the Folk went up, “Choose!  Choose!”</p>
<p>Said Agni: “Sayeth any aught against it?”  But no
voice of a gainsayer was heard, and Agni said:</p>
<p>“Children of Tyr, what man will ye have for a leader and a
duke of war?”</p>
<p>Then a great shout sprang up from amidst the swords: “We will
have Thiodolf; Thiodolf the Wolfing!”</p>
<p>Said Agni: “I hear no other name; are ye of one mind? hath
any aught to say against it?  If that be so, let him speak now,
and not forbear to follow in the wheatfield of the spears.  Speak,
ye that will not follow Thiodolf!”</p>
<p>No voice gainsaid him: then said the Dayling: “Come forth thou
War-duke of the Markmen! take up the gold ring from the horns of the
altar, set it on thine arm and come up hither!”</p>
<p>Then came forth Thiodolf into the sun, and took up the gold ring
from where it lay, and did it on his arm.  And this was the ring
of the leader of the folk whenso one should be chosen: it was ancient
and daintily wrought, but not very heavy: so ancient it was that men
said it had been wrought by the dwarfs.</p>
<p>So Thiodolf went up on to the hill, and all men cried out on him
for joy, for they knew his wisdom in war.  Many wondered to see
him unhelmed, but they had a deeming that he must have made oath to
the Gods thereof and their hearts were glad of it.  They took note
of the dwarf-wrought hauberk, and even from a good way off they could
see what a treasure of smith’s work it was, and they deemed it
like enough that spells had been sung over it to make it sure against
point and edge: for they knew that Thiodolf was well beloved of the
Gods.</p>
<p>But when Thiodolf was on the Hill of Speech, he said:</p>
<p>“Men of the kindreds, I am your War-duke to-day; but it is
oftenest the custom when ye go to war to choose you two dukes, and I
would it were so now.  No child’s play is the work that lies
before us; and if one leader chance to fall let there be another to
take his place without stop or stay.  Thou Agni of the Daylings,
bid the Folk choose them another duke if so they will.”</p>
<p>Said Agni: “Good is this which our War-duke hath spoken; say
then, men of the Mark, who shall stand with Thiodolf to lead you against
the aliens?”</p>
<p>Then was there a noise and a crying of names, and more than two names
seemed to be cried out; but by far the greater part named either Otter
of the Laxings, or Heriulf of the Wolfings.  True it is that Otter
was a very wise warrior, and well known to all the men of the Mark;
yet so dear was Heriulf to them, that none would have named Otter had
it not been mostly their custom not to choose both War-dukes from one
House.</p>
<p>Now spake Agni: “Children of Tyr, I hear you name more than
one name: now let each man cry out clearly the name he nameth.”</p>
<p>So the Folk cried the names once more, but this time it was clear
that none was named save Otter and Heriulf; so the Dayling was at point
to speak again, but or ever a word left his lips, Heriulf the mighty,
the ancient of days, stood forth: and when men saw that he would take
up the word there was a great silence.  So he spake:</p>
<p>“Hearken, children!  I am old and war-wise; but my wisdom
is the wisdom of the sword of the mighty warrior, that knoweth which
way it should wend, and hath no thought of turning back till it lieth
broken in the field.  Such wisdom is good against Folks that we
have met heretofore; as when we have fought with the Huns, who would
sweep us away from the face of the earth, or with the Franks or the
Burgundians, who would quell us into being something worser than they
be.  But here is a new foe, and new wisdom, and that right shifty,
do we need to meet them.  One wise duke have ye gotten, Thiodolf
to wit; and he is young beside me and beside Otter of the Laxings. 
And now if ye must needs have an older man to stand beside him, (and
that is not ill) take ye Otter; for old though his body be, the thought
within him is keen and supple like the best of Welsh-wrought blades,
and it liveth in the days that now are: whereas for me, meseemeth, my
thoughts are in the days bygone.  Yet look to it, that I shall
not fail to lead as the sword of the valiant leadeth, or the shaft shot
by the cunning archer.  Choose ye Otter; I have spoken over long.”</p>
<p>Then spoke Agni the Dayling, and laughed withal: “One man of
the Folk hath spoken for Otter and against Heriulf—now let others
speak if they will!”</p>
<p>So the cry came forth, “Otter let it be, we will have Otter!”</p>
<p>“Speaketh any against Otter?” said Agni.  But there
was no voice raised against him.</p>
<p>Then Agni said: “Come forth, Otter of the Laxings, and hold
the ring with Thiodolf.”</p>
<p>Then Otter went up on to the hill and stood by Thiodolf, and they
held the ring together; and then each thrust his hand and arm through
the ring and clasped hands together, and stood thus awhile, and all
the Folk shouted together.</p>
<p>Then spake Agni: “Now shall we hew the horses and give the
gifts to the Gods.”</p>
<p>Therewith he and the two War-dukes came down from the hill; and stood
before the altar; and the nine warriors of the Daylings stood forth
with axes to hew the horses and with copper bowls wherein to catch the
blood of them, and each hewed down his horse to the Gods, but the two
War-dukes slew the tenth and fairest: and the blood was caught in the
bowls, and Agni took a sprinkler and went round about the ring of men,
and cast the blood of the Gods’-gifts over the Folk, as was the
custom of those days.</p>
<p>Then they cut up the carcases and burned on the altar the share of
the Gods, and Agni and the War-dukes tasted thereof, and the rest they
bore off to the Daylings’ abode for the feast to be holden that
night.</p>
<p>Then Otter and Thiodolf spake apart together for awhile, and presently
went up again on to the Speech-Hill, and Thiodolf said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O kindreds of the Markmen; to-morrow with the
day<br />
We shall wend up Mirkwood-water to bar our foes the way;<br />
And there shall we make our wain-burg on the edges of the wood,<br />
Where in the days past over at last the aliens stood,<br />
The Slaughter Tofts ye call it.  There tidings shall we get<br />
If the curse of the world is awakened, and the serpent crawleth yet<br />
Amidst the Mirkwood thicket; and when the sooth we know,<br />
Then bearing battle with us through the thicket shall we go,<br />
The ancient Wood-wolf’s children, and the People of the Shield,<br />
And the Spear-kin and the Horse-kin, while the others keep the field<br />
About the warded wain-burg; for not many need we there<br />
Where amidst of the thickets’ tangle and the woodland net they
fare,<br />
And the hearts of the aliens falter and they curse the fight ne’er
done,<br />
And wonder who is fighting and which way is the sun.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thus he spoke; then Agni took up the war-horn again, and blew a blast,
and then he cried out:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Now sunder we the Folk-mote! and the feast is
for to-night,<br />
And to-morrow the Wayfaring; But unnamed is the day of the fight;<br />
O warriors, look ye to it that not long we need abide<br />
’Twixt the hour of the word we have spoken, and our fair-fame’s
blooming tide!<br />
For then ’midst the toil and the turmoil shall we sow the seeds
of peace,<br />
And the Kindreds’ long endurance, and the Goth-folk’s great
increase.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then arose the last great shout, and soberly and in due order, kindred
by kindred, they turned and departed from the Thing-stead and went their
way through the wood to the abode of the Daylings.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER IX—THE ANCIENT MAN OF THE DAYLINGS</h2>
<p>There still hung the more part of the stay-at-homes round about the
Roof.  But on the plain beneath the tofts were all the wains of
the host drawn up round about a square like the streets about a market-place;
all these now had their tilts rigged over them, some white, some black,
some red, some tawny of hue; and some, which were of the Beamings, green
like the leafy tree.</p>
<p>The warriors of the host went down into this wain-town, which they
had not fenced in any way, since they in no wise looked for any onset
there; and there were their thralls dighting the feast for them, and
a many of the Dayling kindred, both men and women, went with them; but
some men did the Daylings bring into their Roof, for there was room
for a good many besides their own folk.  So they went over the
Bridge of turf into the garth and into the Great Roof of the Daylings;
and amongst these were the two War-dukes.</p>
<p>So when they came to the dais it was as fair all round about there
as might well be; and there sat elders and ancient warriors to welcome
the guests; and among them was the old carle who had sat on the edge
of the burg to watch the faring of the host, and had shuddered back
at the sight of the Wolfing Banner.</p>
<p>And when the old carle saw the guests, he fixed his eyes on Thiodolf,
and presently came up and stood before him; and Thiodolf looked on the
old man, and greeted him kindly and smiled on him; but the carle spake
not till he had looked on him a while; and at last he fell a-trembling,
and reached his hands out to Thiodolf’s bare head, and handled
his curls and caressed them, as a mother does with her son, even if
he be a grizzled-haired man, when there is none by: and at last he said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“How dear is the head of the mighty, and the apple
of the tree<br />
That blooms with the life of the people which is and yet shall be!<br />
It is helmed with ancient wisdom, and the long remembered thought,<br />
That liveth when dead is the iron, and its very rust but nought.<br />
Ah! were I but young as aforetime, I would fare to the battle-stead<br />
And stand amidst of the spear-hail for the praise of the hand and the
head!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then his hands left Thiodolf’s head, and strayed down to his
shoulders and his breast, and he felt the cold rings of the hauberk,
and let his hands fall down to his side again; and the tears gushed
out of his old eyes and again he spake:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O house of the heart of the mighty, O breast of
the battle-lord<br />
Why art thou coldly hidden from the flickering flame of the sword?<br />
I know thee not, nor see thee; thou art as the fells afar<br />
Where the Fathers have their dwelling, and the halls of Godhome are:<br />
The wind blows wild betwixt us, and the cloud-rack flies along,<br />
And high aloft enfoldeth the dwelling of the strong;<br />
They are, as of old they have been, but their hearths flame not for
me;<br />
And the kindness of their feast-halls mine eyes shall never see.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Thiodolf’s lips still smiled on the old man, but a shadow had
come over his eyes and his brow; and the chief of the Daylings and their
mighty guests stood by listening intently with the knit brows of anxious
men; nor did any speak till the ancient man again betook him to words:</p>
<blockquote><p>“I came to the house of the foeman when hunger
made me a fool;<br />
And the foeman said, ‘Thou art weary, lo, set thy foot on the
stool;’<br />
And I stretched out my feet,—and was shackled: and he spake with
a dastard’s smile,<br />
‘O guest, thine hands are heavy; now rest them for a while!’<br />
So I stretched out my hands, and the hand-gyves lay cold on either wrist:<br />
And the wood of the wolf had been better than that feast-hall, had I
wist<br />
That this was the ancient pit-fall, and the long expected trap,<br />
And that now for my heart’s desire I had sold the world’s
goodhap.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith the ancient man turned slowly away from Thiodolf, and departed
sadly to his own place.  Thiodolf changed countenance but little,
albeit those about him looked strangely on him, as though if they durst
they would ask him what these words might be, and if he from his hidden
knowledge might fit a meaning to them.  For to many there was a
word of warning in them, and to some an evil omen of the days soon to
be; and scarce anyone heard those words but he had a misgiving in his
heart, for the ancient man was known to be foreseeing, and wild and
strange his words seemed to them.</p>
<p>But Agni would make light of it, and he said: “Asmund the Old
is of good will, and wise he is; but he hath great longings for the
deeds of men, when he hath tidings of battle; for a great warrior and
a red-hand hewer he hath been in times past; he loves the Kindred, and
deems it ill if he may not fare afield with them; for the thought of
dying in the straw is hateful to him.”</p>
<p>“Yea,” said another, “and moreover he hath seen
sons whom he loved slain in battle; and when he seeth a warrior in his
prime he becometh dear to him, and he feareth for him.”</p>
<p>“Yet,” said a third, “Asmund is foreseeing; and
may be, Thiodolf, thou wilt wot of the drift of these words, and tell
us thereof.”</p>
<p>But Thiodolf spake nought of the matter, though in his heart he pondered
it.</p>
<p>So the guests were led to table, and the feast began, within the
hall and without it, and wide about the plain; and the Dayling maidens
went in bands trimly decked out throughout all the host and served the
warriors with meat and drink, and sang the overword to their lays, and
smote the harp, and drew the bow over the fiddle till it laughed and
wailed and chuckled, and were blithe and merry with all, and great was
the glee on the eve of battle.  And if Thiodolf’s heart were
overcast, his face showed it not, but he passed from hall to wain-burg
and from wain-burg to hall again blithe and joyous with all men. 
And thereby he raised the hearts of men, and they deemed it good that
they had gotten such a War-duke, meet to uphold all hearts of men both
at the feast and in the fray.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER X—THAT CARLINE COMETH TO THE ROOF OF THE WOLFINGS</h2>
<p>Now it was three days after this that the women were gathering to
the Women’s-Chamber of the Roof of the Wolfings a little before
the afternoon changes into evening.  The hearts of most were somewhat
heavy, for the doubt wherewith they had watched the departure of the
fighting-men still hung about them; nor had they any tidings from the
host (nor was it like that they should have).  And as they were
somewhat down-hearted, so it seemed by the aspect of all things that
afternoon.  It was not yet the evening, as is aforesaid, but the
day was worn and worsened, and all things looked weary.  The sky
was a little clouded, but not much; yet was it murky down in the south-east,
and there was a threat of storm in it, and in the air close round each
man’s head, and in the very waving of the leafy boughs. 
There was by this time little doing in field and fold (for the kine
were milked), and the women were coming up from the acres and the meadow
and over the open ground anigh the Roof; there was the grass worn and
dusty, and the women that trod it, their feet were tanned and worn,
and dusty also; skin-dry and weary they looked, with the sweat dried
upon them; their girt-up gowns grey and lightless, their half-unbound
hair blowing about them in the dry wind, which had in it no morning
freshness, and no evening coolness.</p>
<p>It was a time when toil was well-nigh done, but had left its aching
behind it; a time for folk to sleep and forget for a little while, till
the low sun should make it evening, and make all things fair with his
level rays; no time for anxious thoughts concerning deeds doing, wherein
the anxious ones could do nought to help.  Yet such thoughts those
stay-at-homes needs must have in the hour of their toil scarce over,
their rest and mirth not begun.</p>
<p>Slowly one by one the women went in by the Women’s-door, and
the Hall-Sun sat on a stone hard by, and watched them as they passed;
and she looked keenly at all persons and all things.  She had been
working in the acres, and her hand was yet on the hoe she had been using,
and but for her face her body was as of one resting after toil: her
dark blue gown was ungirded, her dark hair loose and floating, the flowers
that had wreathed it, now faded, lying strewn upon the grass before
her: her feet bare for coolness’ sake, her left hand lying loose
and open upon her knee.</p>
<p>Yet though her body otherwise looked thus listless, in her face was
no listlessness, nor rest: her eyes were alert and clear, shining like
two stars in the heavens of dawn-tide; her lips were set close, her
brow knit, as of one striving to shape thoughts hard to understand into
words that all might understand.</p>
<p>So she sat noting all things, as woman by woman went past her into
the hall, till at last she slowly rose to her feet; for there came two
young women leading between them that same old carline with whom she
had talked on the Hill-of-Speech.  She looked on the carline steadfastly,
but gave no token of knowing her; but the ancient woman spoke when she
came near to the Hall-Sun, and old as her semblance was, yet did her
speech sound sweet to the Hall-Sun, and indeed to all those that heard
it and she said:</p>
<p>“May we be here to-night, O Hall-Sun, thou lovely Seeress of
the mighty Wolfings? may a wandering woman sit amongst you and eat the
meat of the Wolfings?”</p>
<p>Then spake the Hall-Sun in a sweet measured voice: “Surely
mother: all men who bring peace with them are welcome guests to the
Wolfings: nor will any ask thine errand, but we will let thy tidings
flow from thee as thou wilt.  This is the custom of the kindred,
and no word of mine own; I speak to thee because thou hast spoken to
me, but I have no authority here, being myself but an alien.  Albeit
I serve the House of the Wolfings, and I love it as the hound loveth
his master who feedeth him, and his master’s children who play
with him.  Enter, mother, and be glad of heart, and put away care
from thee.”</p>
<p>Then the old woman drew nigher to her and sat down in the dust at
her feet, for she was now sitting down again, and took her hand and
kissed it and fondled it, and seemed loth to leave handling the beauty
of the Hall-Sun; but she looked kindly on the carline, and smiled on
her, and leaned down to her, and kissed her mouth, and said:</p>
<p>“Damsels, take care of this poor woman, and make her good cheer;
for she is wise of wit, and a friend of the Wolfings; and I have seen
her before, and spoken with her; and she loveth us.  But as for
me I must needs be alone in the meads for a while; and it may be that
when I come to you again, I shall have a word to tell you.”</p>
<p>Now indeed it was in a manner true that the Hall-Sun had no authority
in the Wolfing House; yet was she so well beloved for her wisdom and
beauty and her sweet speech, that all hastened to do her will in small
matters and in great, and now as they looked at her after the old woman
had caressed her, it seemed to them that her fairness grew under their
eyes, and that they had never seen her so fair; and the sight of her
seemed so good to them, that the outworn day and its weariness changed
to them, and it grew as pleasant as the first hours of the sunlight,
when men arise happy from their rest, and look on the day that lieth
hopeful before them with all its deeds to be.</p>
<p>So they grew merry, and they led the carline into the Hall with them,
and set her down in the Women’s-Chamber, and washed her feet,
and gave her meat and drink, and bade her rest and think of nothing
troublous, and in all wise made her good cheer; and she was merry with
them, and praised their fairness and their deftness, and asked them
many questions about their weaving and spinning and carding; (howbeit
the looms were idle as then because it was midsummer, and the men gone
to the war).  And this they deemed strange, as it seemed to them
that all women should know of such things; but they thought it was a
token that she came from far away.</p>
<p>But afterwards she sat among them, and told them pleasant tales of
past times and far countries, and was blithe to them and they to her
and the time wore on toward nightfall in the Women’s-Chamber.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XI—THE HALL-SUN SPEAKETH</h2>
<p>But for the Hall-Sun; she sat long on that stone by the Women’s-door;
but when the evening was now come, she arose and went down through the
cornfields and into the meadow, and wandered away as her feet took her.</p>
<p>Night was falling by then she reached that pool of Mirkwood-water,
whose eddies she knew so well.  There she let the water cover her
in the deep stream, and she floated down and sported with the ripples
where the river left that deep to race over the shallows; and the moon
was casting shadows by then she came up the bank again by the shallow
end bearing in her arms a bundle of the blue-flowering mouse-ear. 
Then she clad herself at once, and went straight as one with a set purpose
toward the Great Roof, and entered by the Man’s-door; and there
were few men within and they but old and heavy with the burden of years
and the coming of night-tide; but they wondered and looked to each other
and nodded their heads as she passed them by, as men who would say,
There is something toward.</p>
<p>So she went to her sleeping-place, and did on fresh raiment, and
came forth presently clad in white and shod with gold and having her
hair wreathed about with the herb of wonder, the blue-flowering mouse-ear
of Mirkwood-water.  Thus she passed through the Hall, and those
elders were stirred in their hearts when they beheld her beauty. 
But she opened the door of the Women’s-Chamber, and stood on the
threshold; and lo, there sat the carline amidst a ring of the Wolfing
women, and she telling them tales of old time such as they had not yet
heard; and her eyes were glittering, and the sweet words were flowing
from her mouth; but she sat straight up like a young woman; and at whiles
it seemed to those who hearkened, that she was no old and outworn woman,
but fair and strong, and of much avail.  But when she heard the
Hall-Sun she turned and saw her on the threshold, and her speech fell
suddenly, and all that might and briskness faded from her, and she fixed
her eyes on the Hall-Sun and looked wistfully and anxiously on her.</p>
<p>Then spake the Hall-Sun standing in the doorway:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Hear ye a matter, maidens, and ye Wolfing women
all,<br />
And thou alien guest of the Wolfings!  But come ye up the hall,<br />
That the ancient men may hearken: for methinks I have a word<br />
Of the battle of the Kindreds, and the harvest of the sword.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then all arose up with great joy, for they knew that the tidings
were good, when they looked on the face of the Hall-Sun and beheld the
pride of her beauty unmarred by doubt or pain.</p>
<p>She led them forth to the dais, and there were the sick and the elders
gathered and some ancient men of the thralls: so she stepped lightly
up to her place, and stood under her namesake, the wondrous lamp of
ancient days.  And thus she spake:</p>
<blockquote><p>“On my soul there lies no burden, and no tangle
of the fight<br />
In plain or dale or wild-wood enmeshes now my sight.<br />
I see the Markmen’s wain-burg, and I see their warriors go<br />
As men who wait for battle and the coming of the foe.<br />
And they pass ’twixt the wood and the wain-burg within earshot
of the horn,<br />
But over the windy meadows no sound thereof is borne,<br />
And all is well amongst them.  To the burg I draw anigh<br />
And I see all battle-banners in the breeze of morning fly,<br />
But no Wolfings round their banner and no warrior of the Shield,<br />
No Geiring and no Hrossing in the burg or on the field.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She held her peace for a little while, and no one dared to speak;
then she lifted up her head and spake:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Now I go by the lip of the wild-wood and a sound
withal I hear,<br />
As of men in the paths of the thicket, and a many drawing anear.<br />
Then, muffled yet by the tree-boles, I hear the Shielding song,<br />
And warriors blithe and merry with the battle of the strong.<br />
Give back a little, Markmen, make way for men to pass<br />
To your ordered battle-dwelling o’er the trodden meadow-grass,<br />
For alive with men is the wild-wood and shineth with the steel,<br />
And hath a voice most merry to tell of the Kindreds’ weal,<br />
’Twixt each tree a warrior standeth come back from the spear-strewn
way,<br />
And forth they come from the wild-wood and a little band are they.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then again was she silent; but her head sank not, as of one thinking,
as before it did, but she looked straight forward with bright eyes and
smiling, as she said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Lo, now the guests they are bringing that ye have
not seen before;<br />
Yet guests but ill-entreated; for they lack their shields of war,<br />
No spear in the hand they carry and with no sax are girt.<br />
Lo, these are the dreaded foemen, these once so strong to hurt;<br />
The men that all folk fled from, the swift to drive the spoil,<br />
The men that fashioned nothing but the trap to make men toil.<br />
They drew the sword in the cities, they came and struck the stroke<br />
And smote the shield of the Markmen, and point and edge they broke.<br />
They drew the sword in the war-garth, they swore to bring aback<br />
God’s gifts from the Markmen houses where the tables never lack.<br />
O Markmen, take the God-gifts that came on their own feet<br />
O’er the hills through the Mirkwood thicket the Stone of Tyr to
meet!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Again she stayed her song, which had been loud and joyous, and they
who heard her knew that the Kindreds had gained the day, and whilst
the Hall-Sun was silent they fell to talking of this fair day of battle
and the taking of captives.  But presently she spread out her hands
again and they held their peace, and she said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“I see, O Wolfing women, and many a thing I see,<br />
But not all things, O elders, this eve shall ye learn of me,<br />
For another mouth there cometh: the thicket I behold<br />
And the Sons of Tyr amidst it, and I see the oak-trees old,<br />
And the war-shout ringing round them; and I see the battle-lord<br />
Unhelmed amidst of the mighty; and I see his leaping sword;<br />
Strokes struck and warriors falling, and the streaks of spears I see,<br />
But hereof shall the other tell you who speaketh after me.<br />
For none other than the Shieldings from out the wood have come,<br />
And they shift the turn with the Daylings to drive the folk-spear home,<br />
And to follow with the Wolfings and thrust the war-beast forth.<br />
And so good men deem the tidings that they bid them journey north<br />
On the feet of a Shielding runner, that Gisli hath to name;<br />
And west of the water he wendeth by the way that the Wolfings came;<br />
Now for sleep he tarries never, and no meat is in his mouth<br />
Till the first of the Houses hearkeneth the tidings of the south;<br />
Lo, he speaks, and the mead-sea sippeth, and the bread by the way doth
eat,<br />
And over the Geiring threshold and outward pass his feet;<br />
And he breasts the Burg of the Daylings and saith his happy word,<br />
And stayeth to drink for a minute of the waves of Battleford.<br />
Lone then by the stream he runneth, and wendeth the wild-wood road,<br />
And dasheth through the hazels of the Oselings’ fair abode,<br />
And the Elking women know it, and their hearts are glad once more,<br />
And ye—yea, hearken, Wolfings, for his feet are at the door.”</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>CHAPTER XII—TIDINGS OF THE BATTLE IN MIRKWOOD</h2>
<p>As the Hall-Sun made an end they heard in good sooth the feet of
the runner on the hard ground without the hall, and presently the door
opened and he came leaping over the threshold, and up to the table,
and stood leaning on it with one hand, his breast heaving with his last
swift run.  Then he spake presently:</p>
<p>“I am Gisli of the Shieldings: Otter sendeth me to the Hall-Sun;
but on the way I was to tell tidings to the Houses west of the Water:
so have I done.  Now is my journey ended; for Otter saith: ‘Let
the Hall-Sun note the tidings and send word of them by four of the lightest
limbed of the women, or by lads a-horseback, both west and east of the
Water; let her send the word as it seemeth to her, whether she hath
seen it or not.  I will drink a short draught since my running
is over.”</p>
<p>Then a damsel brought him a horn of mead and let it come into his
hand, and he drank sighing with pleasure, while the damsel for pleasure
of him and his tidings laid her hand on his shoulder.  Then he
set down the horn and spake:</p>
<p>“We, the Shieldings, with the Geirings, the Hrossings, and
the Wolfings, three hundred warriors and more, were led into the Wood
by Thiodolf the War-duke, beside whom went Fox, who hath seen the Romans. 
We were all afoot; for there is no wide way through the Wood, nor would
we have it otherwise, lest the foe find the thicket easy.  But
many of us know the thicket and its ways; so we made not the easy hard. 
I was near the War-duke, for I know the thicket and am light-foot: I
am a bowman.  I saw Thiodolf that he was unhelmed and bore no shield,
nor had he any coat of fence; nought but a deer-skin frock.”</p>
<p>As he said that word, the carline, who had drawn very near to him
and was looking hard at his face, turned and looked on the Hall-Sun
and stared at her till she reddened under those keen eyes: for in her
heart began to gather some knowledge of the tale of her mother and what
her will was.</p>
<p>But Gisli went on: “Yet by his side was his mighty sword, and
we all knew it for Throng-plough, and were glad of it and of him and
the unfenced breast of the dauntless.  Six hours we went spreading
wide through the thicket, not always seeing one another, but knowing
one another to be nigh; those that knew the thicket best led, the others
followed on.  So we went till it was high noon on the plain and
glimmering dusk in the thicket, and we saw nought, save here and there
a roe, and here and there a sounder of swine, and coneys where it was
opener, and the sun shone and the grass grew for a little space. 
So came we unto where the thicket ended suddenly, and there was a long
glade of the wild-wood, all set about with great oak-trees and grass
thereunder, which I knew well; and thereof the tale tells that it was
a holy place of the folk who abided in these parts before the Sons of
the Goths.  Now will I drink.”</p>
<p>So he drank of the horn and said: “It seemeth that Fox had
a deeming of the way the Romans should come; so now we abided in the
thicket without that glade and lay quiet and hidden, spreading ourselves
as much about that lawn of the oak-trees as we might, the while Fox
and three others crept through the wood to espy what might be toward:
not long had they been gone ere we heard a war-horn blow, and it was
none of our horns: it was a long way off, but we looked to our weapons:
for men are eager for the foe and the death that cometh, when they lie
hidden in the thicket.  A while passed, and again we heard the
horn, and it was nigher and had a marvellous voice; then in a while
was a little noise of men, not their voices, but footsteps going warily
through the brake to the south, and twelve men came slowly and warily
into that oak-lawn, and lo, one of them was Fox; but he was clad in
the raiment of the dastard of the Goths whom he had slain.  I tell
you my heart beat, for I saw that the others were Roman men, and one
of them seemed to be a man of authority, and he held Fox by the shoulder,
and pointed to the thicket where we lay, and something he said to him,
as we saw by his gesture and face, but his voice we heard not, for he
spake soft.</p>
<p>“Then of those ten men of his he sent back two, and Fox going
between them, as though he should be slain if he misled them; and he
and the eight abided there wisely and warily, standing silently some
six feet from each other, moving scarce at all, but looking like images
fashioned of brown copper and iron; holding their casting-spears (which
be marvellous heavy weapons) and girt with the sax.</p>
<p>“As they stood there, not out of earshot of a man speaking
in his wonted voice, our War-duke made a sign to those about him, and
we spread very quietly to the right hand and the left of him once more,
and we drew as close as might be to the thicket’s edge, and those
who had bows the nighest thereto.  Thus then we abided a while
again; and again came the horn’s voice; for belike they had no
mind to come their ways covertly because of their pride.</p>
<p>“Soon therewithal comes Fox creeping back to us, and I saw
him whisper into the ear of the War-duke, but heard not the word he
said.  I saw that he had hanging to him two Roman saxes, so I deemed
he had slain those two, and so escaped the Romans.  Maidens, it
were well that ye gave me to drink again, for I am weary and my journey
is done.”</p>
<p>So again they brought him the horn, and made much of him; and he
drank, and then spake on.</p>
<p>“Now heard we the horn’s voice again quite close, and
it was sharp and shrill, and nothing like to the roar of our battle-horns:
still was the wood and no wind abroad, not even down the oak-lawn; and
we heard now the tramp of many men as they thrashed through the small
wood and bracken of the thicket-way; and those eight men and their leader
came forward, moving like one, close up to the thicket where I lay,
just where the path passed into the thicket beset by the Sons of the
Goths: so near they were that I could see the dints upon their armour,
and the strands of the wire on their sax-handles.  Down then bowed
the tall bracken on the further side of the wood-lawn, the thicket crashed
before the march of men, and on they strode into the lawn, a goodly
band, wary, alert, and silent of cries.</p>
<p>“But when they came into the lawn they spread out somewhat
to their left hands, that is to say on the west side, for that way was
the clear glade; but on the east the thicket came close up to them and
edged them away.  Therein lay the Goths.</p>
<p>“There they stayed awhile, and spread out but a little, as
men marching, not as men fighting.  A while we let them be; and
we saw their captain, no big man, but dight with very fair armour and
weapons; and there drew up to him certain Goths armed, the dastards
of the folk, and another unarmed, an old man bound and bleeding. 
With these Goths had the captain some converse, and presently he cried
out two or three words of Welsh in a loud voice, and the nine men who
were ahead shifted them somewhat away from us to lead down the glade
westward.</p>
<p>“The prey had come into the net, but they had turned their
faces toward the mouth of it.</p>
<p>“Then turned Thiodolf swiftly to the man behind him who carried
the war-horn, and every man handled his weapons: but that man understood,
and set the little end to his mouth, and loud roared the horn of the
Markmen, and neither friend nor foe misdoubted the tale thereof. 
Then leaped every man to his feet, all bow-strings twanged and the cast-spears
flew; no man forebore to shout; each as he might leapt out of the thicket
and fell on with sword and axe and spear, for it was from the bowmen
but one shaft and no more.</p>
<p>“Then might you have seen Thiodolf as he bounded forward like
the wild-cat on the hare, how he had no eyes for any save the Roman
captain.  Foemen enough he had round about him after the two first
bounds from the thicket; for the Romans were doing their best to spread,
that they might handle those heavy cast-spears, though they might scarce
do it, just come out of the thicket as they were, and thrust together
by that onslaught of the kindreds falling on from two sides and even
somewhat from behind.  To right and left flashed Throng-plough,
while Thiodolf himself scarce seemed to guide it: men fell before him
at once, and close at his heels poured the Wolfing kindred into the
gap, and in a minute of time was he amidst of the throng and face to
face with the gold-dight captain.</p>
<p>“What with the sweep of Throng-plough and the Wolfing onrush,
there was space about him for a great stroke; he gave a side-long stroke
to his right and hewed down a tall Burgundian, and then up sprang the
white blade, but ere its edge fell he turned his wrist, and drove the
point through that Captain’s throat just above the ending of his
hauberk, so that he fell dead amidst of his folk.</p>
<p>“All the four kindreds were on them now, and amidst them, and
needs must they give way: but stoutly they fought; for surely no other
warriors might have withstood that onslaught of the Markmen for the
twinkling of an eye: but had the Romans had but the space to have spread
themselves out there, so as to handle their shot-weapons, many a woman’s
son of us had fallen; for no man shielded himself in his eagerness,
but let the swiftness of the Onset of point-and-edge shield him; which,
sooth to say, is often a good shield, as here was found.</p>
<p>“So those that were unslain and unhurt fled west along the
glade, but not as dastards, and had not Thiodolf followed hard in the
chase according to his wont, they might even yet have made a fresh stand
and spread from oak-tree to oak-tree across the glade: but as it befel,
they might not get a fair offing so as to disentangle themselves and
array themselves in good order side by side; and whereas the Markmen
were fleet of foot, and in the woods they knew, there were a many aliens
slain in the chase or taken alive unhurt or little hurt: but the rest
fled this way and that way into the thicket, with whom were some of
the Burgundians; so there they abide now as outcasts and men unholy,
to be slain as wild-beasts one by one as we meet them.</p>
<p>“Such then was the battle in Mirkwood.  Give me the mead-horn
that I may drink to the living and the dead, and the memory of the dead,
and the deeds of the living that are to be.”</p>
<p>So they brought him the horn, and he waved it over his head and drank
again and spake:</p>
<p>“Sixty and three dead men of the Romans we counted there up
and down that oak-glade; and we cast earth over them; and three dead
dastards of the Goths, and we left them for the wolves to deal with. 
And twenty-five men of the Romans we took alive to be for hostages if
need should be, and these did we Shielding men, who are not very many,
bring aback to the wain-burg; and the Daylings, who are a great company,
were appointed to enter the wood and be with Thiodolf; and me did Otter
bid to bear the tidings, even as I have told you.  And I have not
loitered by the way.”</p>
<p>Great then was the joy in the Hall; and they took Gisli, and made
much of him, and led him to the bath, and clad him in fine raiment taken
from the coffer which was but seldom opened, because the cloths it held
were precious; and they set a garland of green wheat-ears on his head. 
Then they fell to and spread the feast in the hall; and they ate and
drank and were merry.</p>
<p>But as for speeding the tidings, the Hall-Sun sent two women and
two lads, all a-horseback, to bear the words: the women to remember
the words which she taught them carefully, the lads to be handy with
the horses, or in the ford, or the swimming of the deeps, or in the
thicket.  So they went their ways, down the water: one pair went
on the western side, and the other crossed Mirkwood-water at the shallows
(for being Midsummer the water was but small), and went along the east
side, so that all the kindred might know of the tidings and rejoice.</p>
<p>Great was the glee in the Hall, though the warriors of the House
were away, and many a song and lay they sang: but amidst the first of
the singing they bethought them of the old woman, and would have bidden
her tell them some tale of times past, since she was so wise in the
ancient lore.  But when they sought for her on all sides she was
not to be found, nor could anyone remember seeing her depart from the
Hall.  But this had they no call to heed, and the feast ended,
as it began, in great glee.</p>
<p>Albeit the Hall-Sun was troubled about the carline, both that she
had come, and that she had gone: and she determined that the next time
she met her she would strive to have of her a true tale of what she
was, and of all that was toward.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIII—THE HALL-SUN SAITH ANOTHER WORD</h2>
<p>It was no later than the next night, and a many of what thralls were
not with the host were about in the feast-hall with the elders and lads
and weaklings of the House; for last night’s tidings had drawn
them thither.  Gisli had gone back to his kindred and the wain-burg
in the Upper-mark, and the women were sitting, most of them, in the
Women’s-Chamber, some of them doing what little summer work needed
doing about the looms, but more resting from their work in field and
acre.</p>
<p>Then came the Hall-Sun forth from her room clad in glittering raiment,
and summoned no one, but went straight to her place on the dais under
her namesake the Lamp, and stood there a little without speaking. 
Her face was pale now, her lips a little open, her eyes set and staring
as if they saw nothing of all that was round about her.</p>
<p>Now went the word through the Hall and the Women’s-Chamber
that the Hall-Sun would speak again, and that great tidings were toward;
so all folk came flock-meal to the dais, both thralls and free; and
scarce were all gathered there, ere the Hall-Sun began speaking, and
said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“The days of the world thrust onward, and men are
born therein<br />
A many and a many, and divers deeds they win<br />
In the fashioning of stories for the kindreds of the earth,<br />
A garland interwoven of sorrow and of mirth.<br />
To the world a warrior cometh; from the world he passeth away,<br />
And no man then may sunder his good from his evil day.<br />
By the Gods hath he been tormented, and been smitten by the foe:<br />
He hath seen his maiden perish, he hath seen his speech-friend go:<br />
His heart hath conceived a joyance and hath brought it unto birth:<br />
But he hath not carried with him his sorrow or his mirth.<br />
He hath lived, and his life hath fashioned the outcome of the deed,<br />
For the blossom of the people, and the coming kindreds’ seed.</p>
<p>“Thus-wise the world is fashioned, and the new sun of the morn<br />
Where earth last night was desert beholds a kindred born,<br />
That to-morrow and to-morrow blossoms all gloriously<br />
With many a man and maiden for the kindreds yet to be,<br />
And fair the Goth-folk groweth.  And yet the story saith<br />
That the deeds that make the summer make too the winter’s death,<br />
That summer-tides unceasing from out the grave may grow<br />
And the spring rise up unblemished from the bosom of the snow.</p>
<p>“Thus as to every kindred the day comes once for all<br />
When yesterday it was not, and to-day it builds the hall,<br />
So every kindred bideth the night-tide of the day,<br />
Whereof it knoweth nothing, e’en when noon is past away.<br />
E’en thus the House of the Wolfings ’twixt dusk and dark
doth stand,<br />
And narrow is the pathway with the deep on either hand.<br />
On the left are the days forgotten, on the right the days to come,<br />
And another folk and their story in the stead of the Wolfing home.<br />
Do the shadows darken about it, is the even here at last?<br />
Or is this but a storm of the noon-tide that the wind is driving past?</p>
<p>“Unscathed as yet it standeth; it bears the stormy drift,<br />
Nor bows to the lightening flashing adown from the cloudy lift.<br />
I see the hail of battle and the onslaught of the strong,<br />
And they go adown to the folk-mote that shall bide there over long.<br />
I see the slain-heaps rising and the alien folk prevail,<br />
And the Goths give back before them on the ridge o’er the treeless
vale.<br />
I see the ancient fallen, and the young man smitten dead,<br />
And yet I see the War-duke shake Throng-plough o’er his head,<br />
And stand unhelmed, unbyrnied before the alien host,<br />
And the hurt men rise around him to win back battle lost;<br />
And the wood yield up her warriors, and the whole host rushing on,<br />
And the swaying lines of battle until the lost is won.<br />
Then forth goes the cry of triumph, as they ring the captives round<br />
And cheat the crow of her portion and heap the warriors’ mound.<br />
There are faces gone from our feast-hall not the least beloved nor worst,<br />
But the wane of the House of the Wolfings not yet the world hath cursed.<br />
The sun shall rise to-morrow on our cold and dewy roof,<br />
For they that longed for slaughter were slaughtered far aloof.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She ceased for a little, but her countenance, which had not changed
during her song, changed not at all now: so they all kept silence although
they were rejoicing in this new tale of victory; for they deemed that
she was not yet at the end of her speaking.  And in good sooth
she spake again presently, and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“I wot not what hath befallen nor where my soul
may be,<br />
For confusion is within me and but dimly do I see,<br />
As if the thing that I look on had happed a while ago.<br />
They stand by the tofts of a war-garth, a captain of the foe,<br />
And a man that is of the Goth-folk, and as friend and friend they speak,<br />
But I hear no word they are saying, though for every word I seek.<br />
And now the mist flows round me and blind I come aback<br />
To the House-roof of the Wolfings and the hearth that hath no lack.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Her voice grew weaker as she spake the last words, and she sank backward
on to her chair: her clenched hands opened, the lids fell down over
her bright eyes, her breast heaved no more as it had done, and presently
she fell asleep.</p>
<p>The folk were doubtful and somewhat heavy-hearted because of those
last words of hers; but they would not ask her more, or rouse her from
her sleep, lest they should grieve her; so they departed to their beds
and slept for what was yet left of the night.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIV—THE HALL-SUN IS CAREFUL CONCERNING THE PASSES
OF THE WOOD</h2>
<p>In the morning early folk arose; and the lads and women who were
not of the night-shift got them ready to go to the mead and the acres;
for the sunshine had been plenty these last days and the wheat was done
blossoming, and all must be got ready for harvest.  So they broke
their fast, and got their tools into their hands: but they were somewhat
heavy-hearted because of those last words of the Hall-Sun, and the doubt
of last night still hung about them, and they were scarcely as merry
as men are wont to be in the morning.</p>
<p>As for the Hall-Sun, she was afoot with the earliest, and was no
less, but mayhap more merry than her wont was, and was blithe with all,
both old and young.</p>
<p>But as they were at the point of going she called to them, and said:</p>
<p>“Tarry a little, come ye all to the dais and hearken to me.”</p>
<p>So they all gathered thereto, and she stood in her place and spake.</p>
<p>“Women and elders of the Wolfings, is it so that I spake somewhat
of tidings last night?”</p>
<p>“Yea,” said they all.</p>
<p>She said, “And was it a word of victory?”</p>
<p>They answered “yea” again.</p>
<p>“Good is that,” she said; “doubt ye not! there
is nought to unsay.  But hearken!  I am nothing wise in war
like Thiodolf or Otter of the Laxings, or as Heriulf the Ancient was,
though he was nought so wise as they be.  Nevertheless ye shall
do well to take me for your captain, while this House is bare of warriors.”</p>
<p>“Yea, yea,” they said, “so will we.”</p>
<p>And an old warrior, hight Sorli, who sat in his chair, no longer
quite way-worthy, said:</p>
<p>“Hall-Sun, this we looked for of thee; since thy wisdom is
not wholly the wisdom of a spae-wife, but rather is of the children
of warriors: and we know thine heart to be high and proud, and that
thy death seemeth to thee a small matter beside the life of the Wolfing
House.”</p>
<p>Then she smiled and said, “Will ye all do my bidding?”</p>
<p>And they all cried out heartily, “Yea, Hall-Sun, that will
we.”</p>
<p>She said: “Hearken then; ye all know that east of Mirkwood-water,
when ye come to the tofts of the Bearings, and their Great Roof, the
thicket behind them is close, but that there is a wide way cut through
it; and often have I gone there: if ye go by that way, in a while ye
come to the thicket’s end and to bare places where the rocks crop
up through the gravel and the woodland loam.  There breed the coneys
without number; and wild-cats haunt the place for that sake, and foxes;
and the wood-wolf walketh there in summer-tide, and hard by the she-wolf
hath her litter of whelps, and all these have enough; and the bald-head
erne hangeth over it and the kite, and also the kestril, for shrews
and mice abound there.  Of these things there is none that feareth
me, and none that maketh me afraid.  Beyond this place for a long
way the wood is nowise thick, for first grow ash-trees about the clefts
of the rock and also quicken-trees, but not many of either; and here
and there a hazel brake easy to thrust through; then comes a space of
oak-trees scattered about the lovely wood-lawn, and then at last the
beech-wood close above but clear beneath.  This I know well, because
I myself have gone so far and further; and by this easy way have I gone
so far to the south, that I have come out into the fell country, and
seen afar off the snowy mountains beyond the Great Water.</p>
<p>“Now fear ye not, but pluck up a heart!  For either I
have seen it or dreamed it, or thought it, that by this road easy to
wend the Romans should come into the Mark.  For shall not those
dastards and traitors that wear the raiment and bodies of the Goths
over the hearts and the lives of foemen, tell them hereof?  And
will they not have heard of our Thiodolf, and this my holy namesake?</p>
<p>“Will they not therefore be saying to themselves, ‘Go
to now, why should we wrench the hinges off the door with plenteous
labour, when another door to the same chamber standeth open before us? 
This House of the Wolfings is the door to the treasure chamber of the
Markmen; let us fall on that at once rather than have many battles for
other lesser matters, and then at last have to fight for this also:
for having this we have all, and they shall be our thralls, and we may
slaughter what we will, and torment what we will and deflower what we
will, and make our souls glad with their grief and anguish, and take
aback with us to the cities what we will of the thralls, that their
anguish and our joy may endure the longer.’  Thus will they
say: therefore is it my rede that the strongest and hardiest of you
women take horse, a ten of you and one to lead besides, and ride the
shallows to the Bearing House, and tell them of our rede; which is to
watch diligently the ways of the wood; the outgate to the Mark, and
the places where the wood is thin and easy to travel on: and ye shall
bid them give you of their folk as many as they deem fittest thereto
to join your company, so that ye may have a chain of watchers stretching
far into the wilds; but two shall lie without the wood, their horses
ready for them to leap on and ride on the spur to the wain-burg in the
Upper-mark if any tidings befal.</p>
<p>“Now of these eleven I ordain Hrosshild to be the leader and
captain, and to choose for her fellows the stoutest-limbed and heaviest-handed
of all the maidens here: art thou content Hrosshild?”</p>
<p>Then stood Hrosshild forth and said nought, but nodded yea; and soon
was her choice made amid jests and laughter, for this seemed no hard
matter to them.</p>
<p>So the ten got together, and the others fell off from them, and there
stood the ten maidens with Hrosshild, well nigh as strong as men, clean-limbed
and tall, tanned with sun and wind; for all these were unwearied afield,
and oft would lie out a-nights, since they loved the lark’s song
better than the mouse’s squeak; but as their kirtles shifted at
neck and wrist, you might see their skins as white as privet-flower
where they were wont to be covered.</p>
<p>Then said the Hall-Sun: “Ye have heard the word, see ye to
it, Hrosshild, and take this other word also: Bid the Bearing stay-at-homes
bide not the sword and the torch at home if the Romans come, but hie
them over hither, to hold the Hall or live in the wild-wood with us,
as need may be; for might bides with many.</p>
<p>“But ye maidens, take this counsel for yourselves; do ye each
bear with you a little keen knife, and if ye be taken, and it seem to
you that ye may not bear the smart of the Roman torments (for they be
wise in tormenting), but will speak and bewray us under them, then thrust
this little edge tool into the place of your bodies where the life lieth
closest, and so go to the Gods with a good tale in your mouths: so may
the Almighty God of Earth speed you, and the fathers of the kindred!”</p>
<p>So she spoke; and they made no delay but each one took what axe or
spear or sword she liked best, and two had their bows and quivers of
arrows; and so all folk went forth from the Hall.</p>
<p>Soon were the horses saddled and bridled, and the maidens bestrode
them joyously and set forth on their way, going down the lanes of the
wheat, and rode down speedily toward the shallows of the water, and
all cried good speed after them.  But the others would turn to
their day’s work, and would go about their divers errands. 
But even as they were at point to sunder, they saw a swift runner passing
by those maidens just where the acres joined the meadow, and he waved
his hand aloft and shouted to them, but stayed not his running for them,
but came up the lanes of the wheat at his swiftest: so they knew at
once that this was again a messenger from the host, and they stood together
and awaited his coming; and as he drew near they knew him for Egil,
the swiftest-footed of the Wolfings; and he gave a great shout as he
came among them; and he was dusty and way-worn, but eager; and they
received him with all love, and would have brought him to the Hall to
wash him and give him meat and drink, and cherish him in all ways.</p>
<p>But he cried out, “To the Speech-Hill first, to the Speech-Hill
first!  But even before that, one word to thee, Hall-Sun! 
Saith Thiodolf, Send ye watchers to look to the entrance into Mid-mark,
which is by the Bearing dwelling; and if aught untoward befalleth let
one ride on the spur with the tidings to the Wain-burg.  For by
that way also may peril come.”</p>
<p>Then smiled some of the bystanders, and the Hall-Sun said: “Good
is it when the thought of a friend stirreth betimes in one’s own
breast.  The thing is done, Egil; or sawest thou not those ten
women, and Hrosshild the eleventh, as thou camest up into the acres?”</p>
<p>Said Egil; “Fair fall thine hand, Hall-Sun! thou art the Wolfings’
Ransom.  Wend we now to the Speech-Hill.”</p>
<p>So did they, and every thrall that was about the dwellings, man,
woman, and child fared with them, and stood about the Speech-Hill: and
the dogs went round about the edge of that assembly, wandering in and
out, and sometimes looking hard on some one whom they knew best, if
he cried out aloud.</p>
<p>But the men-folk gave all their ears to hearkening, and stood as
close as they might.</p>
<p>Then Egil clomb the Speech-Hill, and said.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XV—THEY HEAR TELL OF THE BATTLE ON THE RIDGE</h2>
<p>“Ye have heard how the Daylings were appointed to go to help
Thiodolf in driving the folk-spear home to the heart of the Roman host. 
So they went; but six hours thereafter comes one to Otter bidding him
send a great part of the kindreds to him; for that he had had tidings
that a great host of Romans were drawing near the wood-edge, but were
not entered therein, and that fain would he meet them in the open field.</p>
<p>“So the kindreds drew lots, and the lot fell first to the Elkings,
who are a great company, as ye know; and then to the Hartings, the Beamings,
the Alftings, the Vallings (also a great company), the Galtings, (and
they no lesser) each in their turn; and last of all to the Laxings;
and the Oselings prayed to go with the Elkings, and this Otter deemed
good, whereas a many of them be bowmen.</p>
<p>“All these then to the number of a thousand or more entered
the wood; and I was with them, for in sooth I was the messenger.</p>
<p>“No delay made we in the wood, nor went we over warily, trusting
to the warding of the wood by Thiodolf; and there were men with us who
knew the paths well, whereof I was one; so we speedily came through
into the open country.</p>
<p>“Shortly we came upon our folk and the War-duke lying at the
foot of a little hill that went up as a buttress to a long ridge high
above us, whereon we set a watch; and a little brook came down the dale
for our drink.</p>
<p>“Night fell as we came thither; so we slept for a while, but
abode not the morning, and we were afoot (for we had no horses with
us) before the moon grew white.  We took the road in good order,
albeit our folk-banners we had left behind in the burg; so each kindred
raised aloft a shield of its token to be for a banner.  So we went
forth, and some swift footmen, with Fox, who hath seen the Roman war-garth,
had been sent on before to spy out the ways of the foemen.</p>
<p>“Two hours after sunrise cometh one of these, and telleth how
he hath seen the Romans, and how that they are but a short mile hence
breaking their fast, not looking for any onslaught; ‘but,’
saith he, ‘they are on a high ridge whence they can see wide about,
and be in no danger of ambush, because the place is bare for the most
part, nor is there any cover except here and there down in the dales
a few hazels and blackthorn bushes, and the rushes of the becks in the
marshy bottoms, wherein a snipe may hide, or a hare, but scarce a man;
and note that there is no way up to that ridge but by a spur thereof
as bare as my hand; so ye will be well seen as ye wend up thereto.’</p>
<p>“So spake he in my hearing.  But Thiodolf bade him lead
on to that spur, and old Heriulf, who was standing nigh, laughed merrily
and said: ‘Yea, lead on, and speedily, lest the day wane and nothing
done save the hunting of snipes.’</p>
<p>“So on we went, and coming to the hither side of that spur
beheld those others and Fox with them; and he held in his hand an arrow
of the aliens, and his face was all astir with half-hidden laughter,
and he breathed hard, and pointed to the ridge, and somewhat low down
on it we saw a steel cap and three spear-heads showing white from out
a little hollow in its side, but the men hidden by the hollow: so we
knew that Fox had been chased, and that the Romans were warned and wary.</p>
<p>“No delay made the War-duke, but led us up that spur, which
was somewhat steep; and as we rose higher we saw a band of men on the
ridge, a little way down it, not a many; archers and slingers mostly,
who abode us till we were within shot, and then sent a few shots at
us, and so fled.  But two men were hurt with the sling-plummets,
and one, and he not grievously, with an arrow, and not one slain.</p>
<p>“Thus we came up on to the ridge, so that there was nothing
between us and the bare heavens; thence we looked south-east and saw
the Romans wisely posted on the ridge not far from where it fell down
steeply to the north; but on the south, that is to say on their left
hands, and all along the ridge past where we were stayed, the ground
sloped gently to the south-west for a good way, before it fell, somewhat
steeply, into another long dale.  Looking north we saw the outer
edge of Mirkwood but a little way from us, and we were glad thereof;
because ere we left our sleeping-place that morn Thiodolf had sent to
Otter another messenger bidding him send yet more men on to us in case
we should be hard-pressed in the battle; for he had had a late rumour
that the Romans were many.  And now when he had looked on the Roman
array and noted how wise it was, he sent three swift-foot ones to take
stand on a high knoll which we had passed on the way, that they might
take heed where our folk came out from the wood and give signal to them
by the horn, and lead them to where the battle should be.</p>
<p>“So we stood awhile and breathed us, and handled our weapons
some half a furlong from the alien host.  They had no earth rampart
around them, for that ridge is waterless, and they could not abide there
long, but they had pitched sharp pales in front of them and they stood
in very good order, as if abiding an onslaught, and moved not when they
saw us; for that band of shooters had joined themselves to them already. 
Taken one with another we deemed them to be more than we were; but their
hauberked footmen with the heavy cast-spears not so many as we by a
good deal.</p>
<p>“Now we were of mind to fall on them ere they should fall on
us; so all such of us as had shot-weapons spread out from our company
and went forth a little; and of the others Heriulf stood foremost along
with the leaders of the Beamings and the Elkings; but as yet Thiodolf
held aback and led the midmost company, as his wont was, and the more
part of the Wolfings were with him.</p>
<p>“Thus we ordered ourselves, and awaited a little while yet
what the aliens should do; and presently a war-horn blew amongst them,
and from each flank of their mailed footmen came forth a many bowmen
and slingers and a band of horsemen; and drew within bowshot, the shooters
in open array yet wisely, and so fell to on us, and the horsemen hung
aback a little as yet.</p>
<p>“Their arrow-shot was of little avail, their bowmen fell fast
before ours; but deadly was their sling-shot, and hurt and slew many
and some even in our main battle; for they slung round leaden balls
and not stones, and they aimed true and shot quick; and the men withal
were so light and lithe, never still, but crouching and creeping and
bounding here and there, that they were no easier to hit than coneys
amidst of the fern, unless they were very nigh.</p>
<p>“Howbeit when this storm had endured a while, and we moved
but little, and not an inch aback, and gave them shot for shot, then
was another horn winded from amongst the aliens; and thereat the bowmen
cast down their bows, and the slingers wound their slings about their
heads, and they all came on with swords and short spears and feathered
darts, running and leaping lustily, making for our flanks, and the horsemen
set spurs to their horses and fell on in the very front of our folk
like good and valiant men-at-arms.</p>
<p>“That saw Heriulf and his men, and they set up the war-whoop,
and ran forth to meet them, axe and sword aloft, terribly yet maybe
somewhat unwarily.  The archers and slingers never came within
sword-stroke of them, but fell away before them on all sides; but the
slingers fled not far, but began again with their shot, and slew a many. 
Then was a horn winded, as if to call back the horsemen, who, if they
heard, heeded not, but rode hard on our kindred like valiant warriors
who feared not death.  Sooth to say, neither were the horses big
or good, nor the men fit for the work, saving for their hardihood; and
their spears were short withal and their bucklers unhandy to wield.</p>
<p>“Now could it be seen how the Goths gave way before them to
let them into the trap, and then closed around again, and the axes and
edge weapons went awork hewing as in a wood; and Heriulf towered over
all the press, and the Wolf’s-sister flashed over his head in
the summer morning.</p>
<p>“Soon was that storm over, and we saw the Goths tossing up
their spears over the slain, and horses running loose and masterless
adown over the westward-lying slopes, and a few with their riders still
clinging to them.  Yet some, sore hurt by seeming, galloping toward
the main battle of the Romans.</p>
<p>“Unwarily then fared the children of Tyr that were with Heriulf;
for by this time they were well nigh within shot of the spears of those
mighty footmen of the Romans: and on their flanks were the slingers,
and the bowmen, who had now gotten their bows again; and our bowmen,
though they shot well and strong, were too few to quell them; and indeed
some of them had cast by their bows to join in Heriulf’s storm. 
Also the lie of the ground was against us, for it sloped up toward the
Roman array at first very gently, but afterwards steeply enough to breathe
a short-winded man.  Also behind them were we of the other kindreds,
whom Thiodolf had ordered into the wedge-array; and we were all ready
to move forward, so that had they abided somewhat, all had been well
and better.</p>
<p>“So did they not, but straightway set up the Victory-whoop
and ran forward on the Roman host.  And these were so ordered that,
as aforesaid, they had before them sharp piles stuck into the earth
and pointed against us, as we found afterwards to our cost; and within
these piles stood the men some way apart from each other, so as to handle
their casting spears, and in three ranks were they ordered and many
spears could be cast at once, and if any in the front were slain, his
fellow behind him took his place.</p>
<p>“So now the storm of war fell at once upon our folk, and swift
and fierce as was their onslaught yet were a many slain and hurt or
ever they came to the piles aforesaid.  Then saw they death before
them and heeded it nought, but tore up the piles and dashed through
them, and fell in on those valiant footmen.  Short is the tale
to tell: wheresoever a sword or spear of the Goths was upraised there
were three upon him, and saith Toti of the Beamings, who was hurt and
crawled away and yet lives, that on Heriulf there were six at first
and then more; and he took no thought of shielding himself, but raised
up the Wolf’s-sister and hewed as the woodman in the thicket,
when night cometh and hunger is on him.  There fell Heriulf the
Ancient and many a man of the Beamings and the Elkings with him, and
many a Roman.</p>
<p>“But amidst the slain and the hurt our wedge-array moved forward
slowly now, warily shielded against the plummets and shafts on either
side; and when the Romans saw our unbroken array, and Thiodolf the first
with Throng-plough naked in his hand, they chased not such men of ours
unhurt or little hurt, as drew aback from before them: so these we took
amongst us, and when we had gotten all we might, and held a grim face
to the foe, we drew aback little by little, still facing them till we
were out of shot of their spears, though the shot of the arrows and
the sling-plummets ceased not wholly from us.  Thus ended Heriulf’s
Storm.”</p>
<p>Then he rested from his speaking for a while, and none said aught,
but they gazed on him as if he bore with him a picture of the battle,
and many of the women wept silently for Heriulf, and yet more of the
younger ones were wounded to the heart when they thought of the young
men of the Elkings, and the Beamings, since with both those houses they
had affinity; and they lamented the loves that they had lost, and would
have asked concerning their own speech-friends had they durst. 
But they held their peace till the tale was told out to an end.</p>
<p>Then Egil spake again:</p>
<p>“No long while had worn by in Heriulf’s Storm, and though
men’s hearts were nothing daunted, but rather angered by what
had befallen, yet would Thiodolf wear away the time somewhat more, since
he hoped for succour from the Wain-burg and the Wood; and he would not
that any of these Romans should escape us, but would give them all to
Tyr, and to be a following to Heriulf the Old and the Great.</p>
<p>“So there we abided a while moving nought, and Thiodolf stood
with Throng-plough on his shoulder, unhelmed, unbyrnied, as though he
trusted to the kindred for all defence.  Nor for their part did
the Romans dare to leave their vantage-ground, when they beheld what
grim countenance we made them.</p>
<p>“Albeit, when we had thrice made as if we would fall on, and
yet they moved not, whereas it trieth a man sorely to stand long before
the foeman, and do nought but endure, and whereas many of our bowmen
were slain or hurt, and the rest too few to make head against the shot-weapons
of the aliens, then at last we began to draw nearer and a little nearer,
not breaking the wedge-array; and at last, just before we were within
shot of the cast-spears of their main battle, loud roared our war-horn:
then indeed we broke the wedge-array, but orderly as we knew how, spreading
out from right and left of the War-duke till we were facing them in
a long line: one minute we abode thus, and then ran forth through the
spear-storm: and even therewith we heard, as it were, the echo of our
own horn, and whoso had time to think betwixt the first of the storm
and the handstrokes of the Romans deemed that now would be coming fresh
kindreds for our helping.</p>
<p>“Not long endured the spear-rain, so swift we were, neither
were we in one throng as betid in Heriulf’s Storm, but spread
abroad, each trusting in the other that none thought of the backward
way.</p>
<p>“Though we had the ground against us we dashed like fresh men
at their pales, and were under the weapons at once.  Then was the
battle grim; they could not thrust us back, nor did we break their array
with our first storm; man hewed at man as if there were no foes in the
world but they two: sword met sword, and sax met sax; it was thrusting
and hewing with point and edge, and no long-shafted weapons were of
any avail; there we fought hand to hand and no man knew by eyesight
how the battle went two yards from where he fought, and each one put
all his heart in the stroke he was then striking, and thought of nothing
else.</p>
<p>“Yet at the last we felt that they were faltering and that
our work was easier and our hope higher; then we cried our cries and
pressed on harder, and in that very nick of time there arose close behind
us the roar of the Markmen’s horn and the cries of the kindreds
answering ours.  Then such of the Romans as were not in the very
act of smiting, or thrusting, or clinging or shielding, turned and fled,
and the whoop of victory rang around us, and the earth shook, and past
the place of the slaughter rushed the riders of the Goths; for they
had sent horsemen to us, and the paths were grown easier for our much
treading of them.  Then I beheld Thiodolf, that he had just slain
a foe, and clear was the space around him, and he rushed sideways and
caught hold of the stirrup of Angantyr of the Bearings, and ran ten
strides beside him, and then bounded on afoot swifter than the red horses
of the Bearings, urging on the chase, as his wont was.</p>
<p>“But we who were wearier, when we had done our work, stood
still between the living and the dead, between the freemen of the Mark
and their war-thralls.  And in no long while there came back to
us Thiodolf and the chasers, and we made a great ring on the field of
the slain, and sang the Song of Triumph; and it was the Wolfing Song
that we sang.</p>
<p>“Thus then ended Thiodolf’s Storm.”</p>
<p>When he held his peace there was but little noise among the stay-at-homes,
for still were they thinking about the deaths of their kindred and their
lovers.  But Egil spoke again.</p>
<p>“Yet within that ring lay the sorrow of our hearts; for Odin
had called a many home, and there lay their bodies; and the mightiest
was Heriulf; and the Romans had taken him up from where he fell, and
cast him down out of the way, but they had not stripped him, and his
hand still gripped the Wolf’s-sister.  His shield was full
of shafts of arrows and spears; his byrny was rent in many places, his
helm battered out of form.  He had been grievously hurt in the
side and in the thigh by cast-spears or ever he came to hand-blows with
the Romans, but moreover he had three great wounds from the point of
the sax, in the throat, in the side, in the belly, each enough for his
bane.  His face was yet fair to look on, and we deemed that he
had died smiling.</p>
<p>“At his feet lay a young man of the Beamings in a gay green
coat, and beside him was the head of another of his House, but his green-clad
body lay some yards aloof.  There lay of the Elkings a many. 
Well may ye weep, maidens, for them that loved you.  Now fare they
to the Gods a goodly company, but a goodly company is with them.</p>
<p>“Seventy and seven of the Sons of the Goths lay dead within
the Roman battle, and fifty-four on the slope before it; and to boot
there were twenty-four of us slain by the arrows and plummets of the
shooters, and a many hurt withal.</p>
<p>“But there were no hurt men inside the Roman array or before
it.  All were slain outright, for the hurt men either dragged themselves
back to our folk, or onward to the Roman ranks, that they might die
with one more stroke smitten.</p>
<p>“Now of the aliens the dead lay in heaps in that place, for
grim was the slaughter when the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings
fell on the aliens; and a many of the foemen scorned to flee, but died
where they stood, craving no peace; and to few of them was peace given. 
There fell of the Roman footmen five hundred and eighty and five, and
the remnant that fled was but little: but of the slingers and bowmen
but eighty and six were slain, for they were there to shoot and not
to stand; and they were nimble and fleet of foot, men round of limb,
very dark-skinned, but not foul of favour.”</p>
<p>Then he said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“There are men through the dusk a-faring, our speech-fiends
and our kin,<br />
No more shall they crave our helping, nor ask what work to win;<br />
They have done their deeds and departed when they had holpen the House,<br />
So high their heads are holden, and their hurts are glorious<br />
With the story of strokes stricken, and new weapons to be met,<br />
And new scowling of foes’ faces, and new curses unknown yet.<br />
Lo, they dight the feast in Godhome, and fair are the tables spread,<br />
Late come, but well-belovéd is every war-worn head,<br />
And the God-folk and the Fathers, as these cross the tinkling bridge,<br />
Crowd round and crave for stories of the Battle on the Ridge.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he came down from the Speech-Hill and the women-folk came
round about him, and they brought him to the Hall, and washed him, and
gave him meat and drink; and then would he sleep, for he was weary.</p>
<p>Howbeit some of the women could not refrain themselves, but must
needs ask after their speech-friends who had been in the battle; and
he answered as he could, and some he made glad, and some sorry; and
as to some, he could not tell them whether their friends were alive
or dead.  So he went to his place and fell asleep and slept long,
while the women went down to acre and meadow, or saw to the baking of
bread or the sewing of garments, or went far afield to tend the neat
and the sheep.</p>
<p>Howbeit the Hall-Sun went not with them; but she talked with that
old warrior, Sorli, who was now halt and grown unmeet for the road,
but was a wise man; and she and he together with some old carlines and
a few young lads fell to work, and saw to many matters about the Hall
and the garth that day; and they got together what weapons there were
both for shot and for the handplay, and laid them where they were handy
to come at, and they saw to the meal in the hall that there was provision
for many days; and they carried up to a loft above the Women’s-Chamber
many great vessels of water, lest the fire should take the Hall; and
they looked everywhere to the entrances and windows and had fastenings
and bolts and bars fashioned and fitted to them; and saw that all things
were trim and stout.  And so they abided the issue.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVI—HOW THE DWARF-WROUGHT HAUBERK WAS BROUGHT AWAY
FROM THE HALL OF THE DAYLINGS</h2>
<p>Now it must be told that early in the morning, after the night when
Gisli had brought to the Wolfing Stead the tidings of the Battle in
the Wood, a man came riding from the south to the Dayling abode. 
It was just before sunrise, and but few folk were stirring about the
dwellings.  He rode up to the Hall and got off his black horse,
and tied it to a ring in the wall by the Man’s-door, and went
in clashing, for he was in his battle-gear, and had a great wide-rimmed
helm on his head.</p>
<p>Folk were but just astir in the Hall, and there came an old woman
to him, and looked on him and saw by his attire that he was a man of
the Goths and of the Wolfing kindred; so she greeted him kindly: but
he said:</p>
<p>“Mother, I am come hither on an errand, and time presses.”</p>
<p>Said she: “Yea, my son, or what tidings bearest thou from the
south? for by seeming thou art new-come from the host.”</p>
<p>Said he: “The tidings are as yesterday, save that Thiodolf
will lead the host through the wild-wood to look for the Romans beyond
it: therefore will there soon be battle again.  See ye, Mother,
hast thou here one that knoweth this ring of Thiodolf’s, if perchance
men doubt me when I say that I am sent on my errand by him?”</p>
<p>“Yea,” she said, “Agni will know it; since he knoweth
all the chief men of the Mark; but what is thine errand, and what is
thy name?”</p>
<p>“It is soon told,” said he, “I am a Wolfing hight
Thorkettle, and I come to have away for Thiodolf the treasure of the
world, the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk, which he left with you when we fared
hence to the south three days ago.  Now let Agni come, that I may
have it, for time presses sorely.”</p>
<p>There were three or four gathered about them now, and a maiden of
them said: “Shall I bring Agni hither, mother?”</p>
<p>“What needeth it?” said the carline, “he sleepeth,
and shall be hard to awaken; and he is old, so let him sleep. 
I shall go fetch the hauberk, for I know where it is, and my hand may
come on it as easily as on mine own girdle.”</p>
<p>So she went her ways to the treasury where were the precious things
of the kindred; the woven cloths were put away in fair coffers to keep
them clean from the whirl of the Hall-dust and the reek; and the vessels
of gold and some of silver were standing on the shelves of a cupboard
before which hung a veil of needlework: but the weapons and war-gear
hung upon pins along the wall, and many of them had much fair work on
them, and were dight with gold and gems: but amidst them all was the
wondrous hauberk clear to see, dark grey and thin, for it was so wondrously
wrought that it hung in small compass.  So the carline took it
down from the pin, and handled it, and marvelled at it, and said:</p>
<p>“Strange are the hands that have passed over thee, sword-rampart,
and in strange places of the earth have they dwelt!  For no smith
of the kindreds hath fashioned thee, unless he had for his friend either
a God or a foe of the Gods.  Well shalt thou wot of the tale of
sword and spear ere thou comest back hither!  For Thiodolf shall
bring thee where the work is wild.”</p>
<p>Then she went with the hauberk to the new-come warrior, and made
no delay, but gave it to him, and said:</p>
<p>“When Agni awaketh, I shall tell him that Thorkettle of the
Wolfings hath borne aback to Thiodolf the Treasure of the World, the
Dwarf-wrought Hauberk.”</p>
<p>Then Thorkettle took it and turned to go; but even therewith came
old Asmund from out of his sleeping-place, and gazed around the Hall,
and his eyes fell on the shape of the Wolfing as he was going out of
the door, and he asked the carline.</p>
<p>“What doeth he here?  What tidings is there from the host? 
For my soul was nought unquiet last night.”</p>
<p>“It is a little matter,” she said; “the War-duke
hath sent for the wondrous Byrny that he left in our treasury when he
departed to meet the Romans.  Belike there shall be a perilous
battle, and few hearts need a stout sword-wall more than Thiodolf’s.”</p>
<p>As she spoke, Thorkettle had passed the door, and got into his saddle,
and sat his black horse like a mighty man as he slowly rode down the
turf bridge that led into the plain.  And Asmund went to the door
and stood watching him till he set spurs to his horse, and departed
a great gallop to the south.  Then said Asmund:</p>
<blockquote><p>“What then are the Gods devising, what wonders
do they will?<br />
What mighty need is on them to work the kindreds ill,<br />
That the seed of the Ancient Fathers and a woman of their kin<br />
With her all unfading beauty must blend herself therein?<br />
Are they fearing lest the kindreds should grow too fair and great,<br />
And climb the stairs of God-home, and fashion all their fate,<br />
And make all earth so merry that it never wax the worse,<br />
Nor need a gift from any, nor prayers to quench the curse?<br />
Fear they that the Folk-wolf, growing as the fire from out the spark<br />
Into a very folk-god, shall lead the weaponed Mark<br />
From wood to field and mountain, to stand between the earth<br />
And the wrights that forge its thraldom and the sword to slay its mirth?<br />
Fear they that the sons of the wild-wood the Loathly Folk shall quell,<br />
And grow into Gods thereafter, and aloof in God-home dwell?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he turned back into the Hall, and was heavy-hearted and
dreary of aspect; for he was somewhat foreseeing; and it may not be
hidden that this seeming Thorkettle was no warrior of the Wolfings,
but the Wood-Sun in his likeness; for she had the power and craft of
shape-changing.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVII—THE WOOD-SUN SPEAKETH WITH THIODOLF</h2>
<p>Now the Markmen laid Heriulf in howe on the ridge-crest where he
had fallen, and heaped a mighty howe over him that could be seen from
far, and round about him they laid the other warriors of the kindreds. 
For they deemed it was fittest that they should lie on the place whose
story they had fashioned.  But they cast earth on the foemen lower
down on the westward-lying bents.</p>
<p>The sun set amidst their work, and night came on; and Thiodolf was
weary and would fain rest him and sleep: but he had many thoughts, and
pondered whitherward he should lead the folk, so as to smite the Romans
once again, and he had a mind to go apart and be alone for rest and
slumber; so he spoke to a man of the kindred named Solvi in whom he
put all trust, and then he went down from the ridge, and into a little
dale on the southwest side thereof, a furlong from the place of the
battle.  A beck ran down that dale, and the further end of it was
closed by a little wood of yew trees, low, but growing thick together,
and great grey stones were scattered up and down on the short grass
of the dale.  Thiodolf went down to the brook-side, and to a place
where it trickled into a pool, whence it ran again in a thin thread
down the dale, turning aside before it reached the yew-wood to run its
ways under low ledges of rock into a wider dale.  He looked at
the pool and smiled to himself as if he had thought of something that
pleased him; then he drew a broad knife from his side, and fell to cutting
up turfs till he had what he wanted; and then he brought stones to the
place, and built a dam across the mouth of the pool, and sat by on a
great stone to watch it filling.</p>
<p>As he sat he strove to think about the Roman host and how he should
deal with it; but despite himself his thoughts wandered, and made for
him pictures of his life that should be when this time of battle was
over; so that he saw nothing of the troubles that were upon his hands
that night, but rather he saw himself partaking in the deeds of the
life of man.  There he was between the plough-stilts in the acres
of the kindred when the west wind was blowing over the promise of early
spring; or smiting down the ripe wheat in the hot afternoon amidst the
laughter and merry talk of man and maid; or far away over Mirkwood-water
watching the edges of the wood against the prowling wolf and lynx, the
stars just beginning to shine over his head, as now they were; or wending
the windless woods in the first frosts before the snow came, the hunter’s
bow or javelin in hand: or coming back from the wood with the quarry
on the sledge across the snow, when winter was deep, through the biting
icy wind and the whirl of the drifting snow, to the lights and music
of the Great Roof, and the merry talk therein and the smiling of the
faces glad to see the hunting-carles come back; and the full draughts
of mead, and the sweet rest a night-tide when the north wind was moaning
round the ancient home.</p>
<p>All seemed good and fair to him, and whiles he looked around him,
and saw the long dale lying on his left hand and the dark yews in its
jaws pressing up against the rock-ledges of the brook, and on his right
its windings as the ground rose up to the buttresses of the great ridge. 
The moon was rising over it, and he heard the voice of the brook as
it tinkled over the stones above him; and the whistle of the plover
and the laugh of the whimbrel came down the dale sharp and clear in
the calm evening; and sounding far away, because the great hill muffled
them, were the voices of his fellows on the ridge, and the songs of
the warriors and the high-pitched cries of the watch.  And this
also was a part of the sweet life which was, and was to be; and he smiled
and was happy and loved the days that were coming, and longed for them,
as the young man longs for the feet of his maiden at the trysting-place.</p>
<p>So as he sat there, the dreams wrapping him up from troublous thoughts,
at last slumber overtook him, and the great warrior of the Wolfings
sat nodding like an old carle in the chimney ingle, and he fell asleep,
his dreams going with him, but all changed and turned to folly and emptiness.</p>
<p>He woke with a start in no long time; the night was deep, the wind
had fallen utterly, and all sounds were stilled save the voice of the
brook, and now and again the cry of the watchers of the Goths. 
The moon was high and bright, and the little pool beside him glittered
with it in all its ripples; for it was full now and trickling over the
lip of his dam.  So he arose from the stone and did off his war-gear,
casting Throng-plough down into the grass beside him, for he had been
minded to bathe him, but the slumber was still on him, and he stood
musing while the stream grew stronger and pushed off first one of his
turfs and then another, and rolled two or three of the stones over,
and then softly thrust all away and ran with a gush down the dale, filling
all the little bights by the way for a minute or two; he laughed softly
thereat, and stayed the undoing of his kirtle, and so laid himself down
on the grass beside the stone looking down the dale, and fell at once
into a dreamless sleep.</p>
<p>When he awoke again, it was yet night, but the moon was getting lower
and the first beginnings of dawn were showing in the sky over the ridge;
he lay still a moment gathering his thoughts and striving to remember
where he was, as is the wont of men waking from deep sleep; then he
leapt to his feet, and lo, he was face to face with a woman, and she
who but the Wood-Sun? and he wondered not, but reached out his hand
to touch her, though he had not yet wholly cast off the heaviness of
slumber or remembered the tidings of yesterday.</p>
<p>She drew aback a little from him, and his eyes cleared of the slumber,
and he saw her that she was scantily clad in black raiment, barefoot,
with no gold ring on her arms or necklace on her neck, or crown about
her head.  But she looked so fair and lovely even in that end of
the night-tide, that he remembered all her beauty of the day and the
sunshine, and he laughed aloud for joy of the sight of her, and said:</p>
<p>“What aileth thee, O Wood-Sun, and is this a new custom of
thy kindred and the folk of God-home that their brides array themselves
like thralls new-taken, and as women who have lost their kindred and
are outcast?  Who then hath won the Burg of the Anses, and clomb
the rampart of God-home?”</p>
<p>But she spoke from where she stood in a voice so sweet, that it thrilled
to the very marrow of his bones.</p>
<blockquote><p>“I have dwelt a while with sorrow since we met,
we twain, in the wood:<br />
I have mourned, while thou hast been merry, who deemest the war-play
good.<br />
For I know the heart of the wilful and how thou wouldst cast away<br />
The rampart of thy life-days, and the wall of my happy day.<br />
Yea I am the thrall of Sorrow; she hath stripped my raiment off<br />
And laid sore stripes upon me with many a bitter scoff.<br />
Still bidding me remember that I come of the God-folk’s kin,<br />
And yet for all my godhead no love of thee may win.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then she looked longingly at him a while and at last could no longer
refrain her, but drew nigh him and took his hands in hers, and kissed
his mouth, and said as she caressed him:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O where are thy wounds, beloved? how turned the
spear from thy breast,<br />
When the storm of war blew strongest, and the best men met the best?<br />
Lo, this is the tale of to-day: but what shall to-morrow tell?<br />
That Thiodolf the Mighty in the fight’s beginning fell;<br />
That there came a stroke ill-stricken, there came an aimless thrust,<br />
And the life of the people’s helper lay quenched in the summer
dust.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He answered nothing, but smiled as though the sound of her voice
and the touch of her hand were pleasant to him, for so much love there
was in her, that her very grief was scarcely grievous.  But she
said again:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Thou sayest it: I am outcast; for a God that lacketh
mirth<br />
Hath no more place in God-home and never a place on earth.<br />
A man grieves, and he gladdens, or he dies and his grief is gone;<br />
But what of the grief of the Gods, and the sorrow never undone?<br />
Yea verily I am the outcast.  When first in thine arms I lay<br />
On the blossoms of the woodland my godhead passed away;<br />
Thenceforth unto thee was I looking for the light and the glory of life<br />
And the Gods’ doors shut behind me till the day of the uttermost
strife.<br />
And now thou hast taken my soul, thou wilt cast it into the night,<br />
And cover thine head with the darkness, and turn thine eyes from the
light.<br />
Thou wouldst go to the empty country where never a seed is sown<br />
And never a deed is fashioned, and the place where each is alone;<br />
But I thy thrall shall follow, I shall come where thou seemest to lie,<br />
I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, and thou so dear and nigh!<br />
A few bones white in their war-gear that have no help or thought,<br />
Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, so nigh, so dear—and nought.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>His hands strayed over her shoulders and arms, caressing them, and
he said softly and lovingly:</p>
<blockquote><p>“I am Thiodolf the Mighty: but as wise as I may
be<br />
No story of that grave-night mine eyes can ever see,<br />
But rather the tale of the Wolfings through the coming days of earth,<br />
And the young men in their triumph and the maidens in their mirth;<br />
And morn’s promise every evening, and each day the promised morn,<br />
And I amidst it ever reborn and yet reborn.<br />
This tale I know, who have seen it, who have felt the joy and pain,<br />
Each fleeing, each pursuing, like the links of the draw-well’s
chain:<br />
But that deedless tide of the grave-mound, and the dayless nightless
day,<br />
E’en as I strive to see it, its image wanes away.<br />
What say’st thou of the grave-mound? shall I be there at all<br />
When they lift the Horn of Remembrance, and the shout goes down the
hall,<br />
And they drink the Mighty War-duke and Thiodolf the old?<br />
Nay rather; there where the youngling that longeth to be bold<br />
Sits gazing through the hall-reek and sees across the board<br />
A vision of the reaping of the harvest of the sword,<br />
There shall Thiodolf be sitting; e’en there shall the youngling
be<br />
That once in the ring of the hazels gave up his life to thee.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She laughed as he ended, and her voice was sweet, but bitter was
her laugh.  Then she said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Nay thou shalt be dead, O warrior, thou shalt
not see the Hall<br />
Nor the children of thy people ’twixt the dais and the wall.<br />
And I, and I shall be living; still on thee shall waste my thought:<br />
I shall long and lack thy longing; I shall pine for what is nought.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But he smiled again, and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Not on earth shall I learn this wisdom; and how
shall I learn it then<br />
When I lie alone in the grave-mound, and have no speech with men?<br />
But for thee,—O doubt it nothing that my life shall live in thee,<br />
And so shall we twain be loving in the days that yet shall be.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It was as if she heard him not; and she fell aback from him a little
and stood silently for a while as one in deep thought; and then turned
and went a few paces from him, and stooped down and came back again
with something in her arms (and it was the hauberk once more), and said
suddenly:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O Thiodolf, now tell me for what cause thou wouldst
not bear<br />
This grey wall of the hammer in the tempest of the spear?<br />
Didst thou doubt my faith, O Folk-wolf, or the counsel of the Gods,<br />
That thou needs must cast thee naked midst the flashing battle-rods,<br />
Or is thy pride so mighty that it seemed to thee indeed<br />
That death was a better guerdon than the love of the Godhead’s
seed?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But Thiodolf said: “O Wood-Sun, this thou hast a right to ask
of me, why I have not worn in the battle thy gift, the Treasure of the
World, the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk!  And what is this that thou sayest? 
I doubt not thy faith towards me and thine abundant love: and as for
the rede of the Gods, I know it not, nor may I know it, nor turn it
this way nor that: and as for thy love and that I would choose death
sooner, I know not what thou meanest; I will not say that I love thy
love better than life itself; for these two, my life and my love, are
blended together and may not be sundered.</p>
<p>“Hearken therefore as to the Hauberk: I wot well that it is
for no light matter that thou wouldst have me bear thy gift, the wondrous
hauberk, into battle; I deem that some doom is wrapped up in it; maybe
that I shall fall before the foe if I wear it not; and that if I wear
it, somewhat may betide me which is unmeet to betide a warrior of the
Wolfings.  Therefore will I tell thee why I have fought in two
battles with the Romans with unmailed body, and why I left the hauberk,
(which I see that thou bearest in thine arms) in the Roof of the Daylings. 
For when I entered therein, clad in the hauberk, there came to meet
me an ancient man, one of the very valiant of days past, and he looked
on me with the eyes of love, as though he had been the very father of
our folk, and I the man that was to come after him to carry on the life
thereof.  But when he saw the hauberk and touched it, then was
his love smitten cold with sadness and he spoke words of evil omen;
so that putting this together with thy words about the gift, and that
thou didst in a manner compel me to wear it, I could not but deem that
this mail is for the ransom of a man and the ruin of a folk.</p>
<p>“Wilt thou say that it is not so? then will I wear the hauberk,
and live and die happy.  But if thou sayest that I have deemed
aright, and that a curse goeth with the hauberk, then either for the
sake of the folk I will not wear the gift and the curse, and I shall
die in great glory, and because of me the House shall live; or else
for thy sake I shall bear it and live, and the House shall live or die
as may be, but I not helping, nay I no longer of the House nor in it. 
How sayest thou?”</p>
<p>Then she said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Hail be thy mouth, beloved, for that last word
of thine,<br />
And the hope that thine heart conceiveth and the hope that is born in
mine.<br />
Yea, for a man’s delivrance was the hauberk born indeed<br />
That once more the mighty warrior might help the folk at need.<br />
And where is the curse’s dwelling if thy life be saved to dwell<br />
Amidst the Wolfing warriors and the folk that loves thee well<br />
And the house where the high Gods left thee to be cherished well therein?</p>
<p>“Yea more: I have told thee, beloved, that thou art not of
the kin;<br />
The blood in thy body is blended of the wandering Elking race,<br />
And one that I may not tell of, who in God-home hath his place,<br />
And who changed his shape to beget thee in the wild-wood’s leafy
roof.<br />
How then shall the doom of the Wolfings be woven in the woof<br />
Which the Norns for thee have shuttled? or shall one man of war<br />
Cast down the tree of the Wolfings on the roots that spread so far?<br />
O friend, thou art wise and mighty, but other men have lived<br />
Beneath the Wolfing roof-tree whereby the folk has thrived.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He reddened at her word; but his eyes looked eagerly on her. 
She cast down the hauberk, and drew one step nigher to him.  She
knitted her brows, her face waxed terrible, and her stature seemed to
grow greater, as she lifted up her gleaming right arm, and cried out
in a great voice.</p>
<blockquote><p>“Thou Thiodolf the Mighty!  Hadst thou will
to cast the net<br />
And tangle the House in thy trouble, it is I would slay thee yet;<br />
For ’tis I and I that love them, and my sorrow would I give,<br />
And thy life, thou God of battle, that the Wolfing House might live.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith she rushed forward, and cast herself upon him, and threw
her arms about him, and strained him to her bosom, and kissed his face,
and he her in likewise, for there was none to behold them, and nought
but the naked heaven was the roof above their heads.</p>
<p>And now it was as if the touch of her face and her body, and the
murmuring of her voice changed and soft close to his ear, as she murmured
mere words of love to him, drew him away from the life of deeds and
doubts and made a new world for him, wherein he beheld all those fair
pictures of the happy days that had been in his musings when first he
left the field of the dead.</p>
<p>So they sat down on the grey stone together hand in hand, her head
laid upon his shoulder, no otherwise than if they had been two lovers,
young and without renown in days of deep peace.</p>
<p>So as they sat, her foot smote on the cold hilts of the sword, which
Thiodolf had laid down in the grass; and she stooped and took it up,
and laid it across her knees and his as they sat there; and she looked
on Throng-plough as he lay still in the sheath, and smiled on him, and
saw that the peace-strings were not yet wound about his hilts. 
So she drew him forth and raised him up in her hand, and he gleamed
white and fearful in the growing dawn, for all things had now gotten
their colours again, whereas amidst their talking had the night worn,
and the moon low down was grown white and pale.</p>
<p>But she leaned aside, and laid her cheek against Thiodolf’s,
and he took the sword out of her hand and set it on his knees again,
and laid his right hand on it, and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Two things by these blue edges in the face of
the dawning I swear;<br />
And first this warrior’s ransom in the coming fight to bear,<br />
And evermore to love thee who hast given me second birth.<br />
And by the sword I swear it, and by the Holy Earth,<br />
To live for the House of the Wolfings, and at last to die for their
need.<br />
For though I trow thy saying that I am not one of their seed,<br />
Nor yet by the hand have been taken and unto the Father shown<br />
As a very son of the Fathers, yet mid them hath my body grown;<br />
And I am the guest of their Folk-Hall, and each one there is my friend.<br />
So with them is my joy and sorrow, and my life, and my death in the
end.<br />
Now whatso doom hereafter my coming days shall bide,<br />
Thou speech-friend, thou deliverer, thine is this dawning-tide.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She spoke no word to him; but they rose up and went hand in hand
down the dale, he still bearing his naked sword over his shoulder, and
thus they went together into the yew-copse at the dale’s end. 
There they abode till after the rising of the sun, and each to each
spake many loving words at their departure; and the Wood-Sun went her
ways at her will.</p>
<p>But Thiodolf went up the dale again, and set Throng-plough in his
sheath, and wound the peace-strings round him.  Then he took up
the hauberk from the grass whereas the Wood-Sun had cast it, and did
it on him, as it were of the attire he was wont to carry daily. 
So he girt Throng-plough to him, and went soberly up to the ridge-top
to the folk, who were just stirring in the early morning.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVIII—TIDINGS BROUGHT TO THE WAIN-BURG</h2>
<p>Now it must be told of Otter and they of the Wain-burg how they had
the tidings of the overthrow of the Romans on the Ridge, and that Egil
had left them on his way to Wolf-stead.  They were joyful of the
tale, as was like to be, but eager also to strike their stroke at the
foemen, and in that mood they abode fresh tidings.</p>
<p>It has been told how Otter had sent the Bearings and the Wormings
to the aid of Thiodolf and his folk, and these two were great kindreds,
and they being gone, there abode with Otter, one man with another, thralls
and freemen, scant three thousand men: of these many were bowmen good
to fight from behind a wall or fence, or some such cover, but scarce
meet to withstand a shock in the open field.  However it was deemed
at this time in the Wain-burg that Thiodolf and his men would soon return
to them; and in any case, they said, he lay between the Romans and the
Mark, so that they had but little doubt; or rather they feared that
the Romans might draw aback from the Mark before they could be met in
battle again, for as aforesaid they were eager for the fray.</p>
<p>Now it was in the cool of the evening two days after the Battle on
the Ridge, that the men, both freemen and thralls, had been disporting
themselves in the plain ground without the Burg in casting the spear
and putting the stone, and running races a-foot and a-horseback, and
now close on sunset three young men, two of the Laxings and one of the
Shieldings, and a grey old thrall of that same House, were shooting
a match with the bow, driving their shafts at a rushen roundel hung
on a pole which the old thrall had dight.  Men were peaceful and
happy, for the time was fair and calm, and, as aforesaid, they dreaded
not the Roman Host any more than if they were Gods dwelling in God-home. 
The shooters were deft men, and they of the Burg were curious to note
their deftness, and many were breathed with the games wherein they had
striven, and thought it good to rest, and look on the new sport: so
they sat and stood on the grass about the shooters on three sides, and
the mead-horn went briskly from man to man; for there was no lack of
meat and drink in the Burg, whereas the kindreds that lay nighest to
it had brought in abundant provision, and women of the kindreds had
come to them, and not a few were there scattered up and down among the
carles.</p>
<p>Now the Shielding man, Geirbald by name, had just loosed at the mark,
and had shot straight and smitten the roundel in the midst, and a shout
went up from the onlookers thereat; but that shout was, as it were,
lined with another, and a cry that a messenger was riding toward the
Burg: thereat most men looked round toward the wood, because their minds
were set on fresh tidings from Thiodolf’s company, but as it happened
it was from the north and the side toward Mid-mark that they on the
outside of the throng had seen the rider coming; and presently the word
went from man to man that so it was, and that the new comer was a young
man on a grey horse, and would speedily be amongst them; so they wondered
what the tidings might be, but yet they did not break up the throng,
but abode in their places that they might receive the messenger more
orderly; and as the rider drew near, those who were nighest to him perceived
that it was a woman.</p>
<p>So men made way before the grey horse, and its rider, and the horse
was much spent and travel-worn.  So the woman rode right into the
ring of warriors, and drew rein there, and lighted down slowly and painfully,
and when she was on the ground could scarce stand for stiffness; and
two or three of the swains drew near her to help her, and knew her at
once for Hrosshild of the Wolfings, for she was well-known as a doughty
woman.</p>
<p>Then she said: “Bring me to Otter the War-duke; or bring him
hither to me, which were best, since so many men are gathered together;
and meanwhile give me to drink; for I am thirsty and weary.”</p>
<p>So while one went for Otter, another reached to her the mead-horn,
and she had scarce done her draught, ere Otter was there, for they had
found him at the gate of the Burg.  He had many a time been in
the Wolfing Hall, so he knew her at once and said:</p>
<p>“Hail, Hrosshild! how farest thou?”</p>
<p>She said: “I fare as the bearer of evil tidings.  Bid
thy folk do on their war-gear and saddle their horses, and make no delay;
for now presently shall the Roman host be in Mid-mark!”</p>
<p>Then cried Otter: “Blow up the war-horn! get ye all to your
weapons and be ready to leap on your horses, and come ye to the Thing
in good order kindred by kindred: later on ye shall hear Hrosshild’s
story as she shall tell it to me!”</p>
<p>Therewith he led her to a grassy knoll that was hard by, and set
her down thereon and himself beside her, and said:</p>
<p>“Speak now, damsel, and fear not!  For now shall one fate
go over us all, either to live together or die together as the free
children of Tyr, and friends of the Almighty God of the Earth. 
How camest thou to meet the Romans and know of their ways and to live
thereafter?”</p>
<p>She said: “Thus it was: the Hall-Sun bethought her how that
the eastern ways into Mid-mark that bring a man to the thicket behind
the Roof of the Bearings are nowise hard, even for an host; so she sent
ten women, and me the eleventh to the Bearing dwelling and the road
through the thicket aforesaid; and we were to take of the Bearing stay-at-homes
whomso we would that were handy, and then all we to watch the ways for
fear of the Romans.  And methinks she has had some vision of their
ways, though mayhap not altogether clear.</p>
<p>“Anyhow we came to the Bearing dwellings, and they gave us
of their folk eight doughty women and two light-foot lads, and so we
were twenty and one in all.</p>
<p>“So then we did as the Hall-Sun bade us, and ordained a chain
of watchers far up into the waste; and these were to sound a point of
war upon their horns each to each till the sound thereof should come
to us who lay with our horses hoppled ready beside us in the fair plain
of the Mark outside the thicket.</p>
<p>“To be short, the horns waked us up in the midst of yesternight,
and of the watches also came to us the last, which had heard the sound
amidst the thicket, and said that it was certainly the sound of the
Goths’ horn, and the note agreed on.  Therefore I sent a
messenger at once to the Wolfing Roof to say what was toward; but to
thee I would not ride until I had made surer of the tidings; so I waited
awhile, and then rode into the wild-wood; and a long tale I might make
both of the waiting and the riding, had I time thereto; but this is
the end of it; that going warily a little past where the thicket thinneth
and the road endeth, I came on three of those watches or links in the
chain we had made, and half of another watch or link; that is to say
six women, who were come together after having blown their horns and
fled (though they should rather have abided in some lurking-place to
espy whatever might come that way) and one other woman, who had been
one of the watch much further off, and had spoken with the furthest
of all, which one had seen the faring of the Roman Host, and that it
was very great, and no mere band of pillagers or of scouts.  And,
said this fleer (who was indeed half wild with fear), that while they
were talking together, came the Romans upon them, and saw them; and
a band of Romans beat the wood for them when they fled, and she, the
fleer, was at point to be taken, and saw two taken indeed, and haled
off by the Roman scourers of the wood.  But she escaped and so
came to the others on the skirts of the thicket, having left of her
skin and blood on many a thornbush and rock by the way.</p>
<p>“Now when I heard this, I bade this fleer get her home to the
Bearings as swiftly as she might, and tell her tale; and she went away
trembling, and scarce knowing whether her feet were on earth or on water
or on fire; but belike failed not to come there, as no Romans were before
her.</p>
<p>“But for the others, I sent one to go straight to Wolf-stead
on the heels of the first messenger, to tell the Hall-Sun what had befallen,
and other five I set to lurk in the thicket, whereas none could lightly
lay hands on them, and when they had new tidings, to flee to Wolf-stead
as occasion might serve them; and for myself I tarried not, but rode
on the spur to tell thee hereof.</p>
<p>“But my last word to thee, Otter, is that by the Hall-sun’s
bidding the Bearings will not abide fire and steel at their own stead,
but when they hear true tidings of the Romans being hard at hand, will
take with them all that is not too hot or too heavy to carry, and go
their ways unto Wolf-stead: and the tidings will go up and down the
Mark on both sides of the water, so that whatever is of avail for defence
will gather there at our dwelling, and if we fall, goodly shall be the
howe heaped over us, even if ye come not in time.</p>
<p>“Now have I told thee what I needs must and there is no need
to question me more, for thou hast it all—do thou what thou hast
to do!”</p>
<p>With that word she cast herself down on the grass by the mound-side,
and was presently asleep, for she was very weary.</p>
<p>But all the time she had been telling her tale had the horn been
sounding, and there were now a many warriors gathered and more coming
in every moment: so Otter stood up on the mound after he had bidden
a man of his House to bring him his horse and war-gear, and abided a
little, till, as might be said, the whole host was gathered: then he
bade cry silence, and spake:</p>
<p>“Sons of Tyr, now hath an Host of the Romans gotten into the
Mark; a mighty host, but not so mighty that it may not be met. 
Few words are best: let the Steerings, who are not many, but are men
well-tried in war and wisdom abide in the Burg along with the fighting
thralls: but let the Burg be broken up and moved from the place, and
let its warders wend towards Mid-mark, but warily and without haste,
and each night let them make the wain-garth and keep good watch.</p>
<p>“But know ye that the Romans shall fall with all their power
on the Wolfing dwellings, deeming that when they have that, they shall
have all that is ours with ourselves also.  For there is the Hall-Sun
under the Great Roof, and there hath Thiodolf, our War-duke, his dwelling-place;
therefore shall all of us, save those that abide with the wains, take
horse, and ride without delay, and cross the water at Battleford, so
that we may fall upon the foe before they come west of the water; for
as ye know there is but one ford whereby a man wending straight from
the Bearings may cross Mirkwood-water, and it is like that the foe will
tarry at the Bearing stead long enough to burn and pillage it.</p>
<p>“So do ye order yourselves according to your kindreds, and
let the Shieldings lead.  Make no more delay!  But for me
I will now send a messenger to Thiodolf to tell him of the tidings,
and then speedily shall he be with us.  Geirbald, I see thee; come
hither!”</p>
<p>Now Geirbald stood amidst the Shieldings, and when Otter had spoken,
he came forth bestriding a white horse, and with his bow slung at his
back.  Said Otter: “Geirbald, thou shalt ride at once through
the wood, and find Thiodolf; and tell him the tidings, and that in nowise
he follow the Roman fleers away from the Mark, nor to heed anything
but the trail of the foemen through the south-eastern heaths of Mirkwood,
whether other Romans follow him or not: whatever happens let him lead
the Goths by that road, which for him is the shortest, towards the defence
of the Wolfing dwellings.  Lo thou, my ring for a token! 
Take it and depart in haste.  Yet first take thy fellow Viglund
the Woodman with thee, lest if perchance one fall, the other may bear
the message.  Tarry not, nor rest till thy word be said!”</p>
<p>Then turned Geirbald to find Viglund who was anigh to him, and he
took the ring, and the twain went their ways without more ado, and rode
into the wild-wood.</p>
<p>But about the wain-burg was there plenteous stir of men till all
was ordered for the departure of the host, which was no long while,
for there was nothing to do but on with the war-gear and up on to the
horse.</p>
<p>Forth then they went duly ordered in their kindreds towards the head
of the Upper-mark, riding as swiftly as they might without breaking
their array.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XIX—THOSE MESSENGERS COME TO THIODOLF</h2>
<p>Of Geirbald and Viglund the tale tells that they rode the woodland
paths as speedily as they might.  They had not gone far, and were
winding through a path amidst of a thicket mingled of the hornbeam and
holly, betwixt the openings of which the bracken grew exceeding tall,
when Viglund, who was very fine-eared, deemed that he heard a horse
coming to meet them: so they lay as close as they might, and drew back
their horses behind a great holly-bush lest it should be some one or
more of the foes who had fled into the wood when the Romans were scattered
in that first fight.  But as the sound drew nearer, and it was
clearly the footsteps of a great horse, they deemed it would be some
messenger from Thiodolf, as indeed it turned out: for as the new-comer
fared on, somewhat unwarily, they saw a bright helm after the fashion
of the Goths amidst of the trees, and then presently they knew by his
attire that he was of the Bearings, and so at last they knew him to
be Asbiorn of the said House, a doughty man; so they came forth to meet
him and he drew rein when he saw armed men, but presently beholding
their faces he knew them and laughed on them, and said:</p>
<p>“Hail fellows! what tidings are toward?”</p>
<p>“These,” said Viglund, “that thou art well met,
since now shalt thou turn back and bring us to Thiodolf as speedily
as may be.”</p>
<p>But Asbiorn laughed and said: “Nay rather turn about with me;
or why are ye so grim of countenance?”</p>
<p>“Our errand is no light one,” said Geirbald, “but
thou, why art thou so merry?”</p>
<p>“I have seen the Romans fall,” said he, “and belike
shall soon see more of that game: for I am on an errand to Otter from
Thiodolf: the War-duke, when he had questioned some of those whom we
took on the Day of the Ridge, began to have a deeming that the Romans
had beguiled us, and will fall on the Mark by the way of the south-east
heaths: so now is he hastening to fetch a compass and follow that road
either to overtake them or prevent them; and he biddeth Otter tarry
not, but ride hard along the water to meet them if he may, or ever they
have set their hands to the dwellings of my House.  And belike
when I have done mine errand to Otter I shall ride with him to look
on these burners and slayers once more; therefore am I merry. 
Now for your tidings, fellows.”</p>
<p>Said Geirbald: “Our tidings are that both our errands are prevented,
and come to nought: for Otter hath not tarried, but hath ridden with
all his folk toward the stead of thine House.  So shalt thou indeed
see these burners and slayers if thou ridest hard; since we have tidings
that the Romans will by now be in Mid-mark.  And as for our errand,
it is to bid Thiodolf do even as he hath done.  Hereby may we see
how good a pair of War-dukes we have gotten, since each thinketh of
the same wisdom.  Now take we counsel together as to what we shall
do; whether we shall go back to Otter with thee, or thou go back to
Thiodolf with us; or else each go the road ordained for us.”</p>
<p>Said Asbiorn: “To Otter will I ride as I was bidden, that I
may look on the burning of our roof, and avenge me of the Romans afterwards;
and I bid you, fellows, ride with me, since fewer men there are with
Otter, and he must be the first to bide the brunt of battle.”</p>
<p>“Nay,” said Geirbald, “as for me ye must even lose
a man’s aid; for to Thiodolf was I sent, and to Thiodolf will
I go: and bethink thee if this be not best, since Thiodolf hath but
a deeming of the ways of the Romans and we wot surely of them. 
Our coming shall make him the speedier, and the less like to turn back
if any alien band shall follow after him.  What sayest thou, Viglund?”</p>
<p>Said Viglund: “Even as thou, Geirbald: but for myself I deem
I may well turn back with Asbiorn.  For I would serve the House
in battle as soon as may be; and maybe we shall slaughter these kites
of the cities, so that Thiodolf shall have no work to do when he cometh.”</p>
<p>Said Asbiorn; “Geirbald, knowest thou right well the ways through
the wood and on the other side thereof, to the place where Thiodolf
abideth? for ye see that night is at hand.”</p>
<p>“Nay, not over well,” said Geirbald.</p>
<p>Said Asbiorn: “Then I rede thee take Viglund with thee; for
he knoweth them yard by yard, and where they be hard and where they
be soft.  Moreover it were best indeed that ye meet Thiodolf betimes;
for I deem not but that he wendeth leisurely, though always warily,
because he deemeth not that Otter will ride before to-morrow morning. 
Hearken, Viglund!  Thiodolf will rest to-night on the other side
of the water, nigh to where the hills break off into the sheer cliffs
that are called the Kites’ Nest, and the water runneth under them,
coming from the east: and before him lieth the easy ground of the eastern
heaths where he is minded to wend to-morrow betimes in the morning:
and if ye do your best ye shall be there before he is upon the road,
and sure it is that your tidings shall hasten him.”</p>
<p>“Thou sayest sooth,” saith Geirbald, “tarry we
no longer; here sunder our ways; farewell!”</p>
<p>“Farewell,” said he, “and thou, Viglund, take this
word in parting, that belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike
a stroke, and maybe be smitten.  For indeed they be most mighty
warriors.”</p>
<p>Then made they no delay but rode their ways either side.  And
Geirbald and Viglund rode over rough and smooth all night, and were
out of the thick wood by day-dawn: and whereas they rode hard, and Viglund
knew the ways well, they came to Mirkwood-water before the day was old,
and saw that the host was stirring, but not yet on the way.  And
or ever they came to the water’s edge, they were met by Wolfkettle
of the Wolfings, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and three others who were
but just come from the place where the hurt men lay down in a dale near
the Great Ridge; there had Wolfkettle and Hiarandi been tending Toti
of the Beamings, their fellow-in-arms, who had been sorely hurt in the
battle, but was doing well, and was like to live.  So when they
saw the messengers, they came up to them and hailed them, and asked
them if the tidings were good or evil.</p>
<p>“That is as it may be,” said Geirbald, “but they
are short to tell; the Romans are in Mid-mark, and Otter rideth on the
spur to meet them, and sendeth us to bid Thiodolf wend the heaths to
fall in on them also.  Nor may we tarry one minute ere we have
seen Thiodolf.”</p>
<p>Said Wolfkettle, “We will lead you to him; he is on the east
side of the water, with all his host, and they are hard on departing.”</p>
<p>So they went down the ford, which was not very deep; and Wolfkettle
rode the ford behind Geirbald, and another man behind Viglund; but Hiarandi
went afoot with the others beside the horses, for he was a very tall
man.</p>
<p>But as they rode amidst the clear water Wolfkettle lifted up his
voice and sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>“White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade
the shallows warm,<br />
But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm?<br />
What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before,<br />
On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war?<br />
Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn,<br />
And dusketh the Moon’s Sister, and the trees look overworn;<br />
God’s Ash tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth
white<br />
As the bones of the giants’ father when the Gods first fared to
fight.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And indeed the morning had grown mirky and grey and threatening,
and from far away the thunder growled, and the face of the Kite’s
Nest showed pale and awful against a dark steely cloud; and a few drops
of rain pattered into the smooth water before them from a rag of the
cloud-flock right over head.  They were in mid stream now, for
the water was wide there; on the eastern bank were the warriors gathering,
for they had beheld the faring of those men, and the voice of Wolfkettle
came to them across the water, so they deemed that great tidings were
toward, and would fain know on what errand those were come.</p>
<p>Then the waters of the ford deepened till Hiarandi was wading more
than waist-deep, and the water flowed over Geirbald’s saddle;
then Wolfkettle laughed, and turning as he sat, dragged out his sword,
and waved it from east to west and sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O sun, pale up in heaven, shrink from us if thou
wilt,<br />
And turn thy face from beholding the shock of guilt with guilt!<br />
Stand still, O blood of summer! and let the harvest fade,<br />
Till there be nought but fallow where once was bloom and blade!<br />
O day, give out but a glimmer of all thy flood of light,<br />
If it be but enough for our eyen to see the road of fight!<br />
Forget all else and slumber, if still ye let us wake,<br />
And our mouths shall make the thunder, and our swords shall the lightening
make,<br />
And we shall be the storm-wind and drive the ruddy rain,<br />
Till the joy of our hearts in battle bring back the day again.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As he spake that word they came up through the shallow water dripping
on to the bank, and they and the men who abode them on the bank shouted
together for joy of fellowship, and all tossed aloft their weapons. 
The man who had ridden behind Viglund slipped off on to the ground;
but Wolfkettle abode in his place behind Geirbald.</p>
<p>So the messengers passed on, and the others closed up round about
them, and all the throng went up to where Thiodolf was sitting on a
rock beneath a sole ash-tree, the face of the Kite’s Nest rising
behind him on the other side of a bight of the river.  There he
sat unhelmed with the dwarf-wrought hauberk about him, holding Throng-plough
in its sheath across his knees, while he gave word to this and that
man concerning the order of the host.</p>
<p>So when they were come thither, the throng opened that the messengers
might come forward; for by this time had many more drawn near to hearken
what was toward.  There they sat on their horses, the white and
the grey, and Wolfkettle stood by Geirbald’s bridle rein, for
he had now lighted down; and a little behind him, his head towering
over the others, stood Hiarandi great and gaunt.  The ragged cloud
had drifted down south-east now and the rain fell no more, but the sun
was still pale and clouded.</p>
<p>Then Thiodolf looked gravely on them, and spake:</p>
<blockquote><p>“What do ye sons of the War-shield? what tale is
there to tell?<br />
Is the kindred fallen tangled in the grasp of the fallow Hell?<br />
Crows the red cock over the homesteads, have we met the foe too late?<br />
For meseems your brows are heavy with the shadowing o’er of fate.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But Geirbald answered:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Still cold with dew in the morning the Shielding
Roof-ridge stands,<br />
Nor yet hath grey Hell bounden the Shielding warriors’ hands;<br />
But lo, the swords, O War-duke, how thick in the wind they shake,<br />
Because we bear the message that the battle-road ye take,<br />
Nor tarry for the thunder or the coming on of rain,<br />
Or the windy cloudy night-tide, lest your battle be but vain.<br />
And this is the word that Otter yestre’en hath set in my mouth;<br />
Seek thou the trail of the Aliens of the Cities of the South,<br />
And thou shalt find it leading o’er the heaths to the beechen-wood,<br />
And thence to the stony places where the foxes find their food;<br />
And thence to the tangled thicket where the folkway cleaves it through,<br />
To the eastern edge of Mid-mark where the Bearings deal and do.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then said Thiodolf in a cold voice, “What then hath befallen
Otter?”</p>
<p>Said Geirbald:</p>
<blockquote><p>“When last I looked upon Otter, all armed he rode
the plain,<br />
With his whole host clattering round him like the rush of the summer
rain;<br />
To the right or the left they looked not but they rode through the dusk
and the dark<br />
Beholding nought before them but the dream of the foes in the Mark.<br />
So he went; but his word fled from him and on my horse it rode,<br />
And again it saith, O War-duke seek thou the Bear’s abode,<br />
And tarry never a moment for ought that seems of worth,<br />
For there shall ye find the sword-edge and the flame of the foes of
the earth.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>“Tarry not, Thiodolf, nor turn aback though a new foe followeth
on thine heels.  No need to question me more; I have no more to
tell, save that a woman brought these tidings to us, whom the Hall-Sun
had sent with others to watch the ways: and some of them had seen the
Romans, who are a great host and no band stealing forth to lift the
herds.”</p>
<p>Now all those round about him heard his words, for he spake with
a loud voice; and they knew what the bidding of the War-duke would be;
so they loitered not, but each man went about his business of looking
to his war-gear and gathering to the appointed place of his kindred. 
And even while Geirbald had been speaking, had Hiarandi brought up the
man who bore the great horn, who when Thiodolf leapt to his feet to
find him, was close at hand.  So he bade him blow the war-blast,
and all men knew the meaning of that voice of the horn, and every man
armed him in haste, and they who had horses (and these were but the
Bearings and the Warnings), saddled them, and mounted, and from mouth
to mouth went the word that the Romans were gotten into Mid-mark, and
were burning the Bearing abodes.  So speedily was the whole host
ready for the way, the Wolfings at the head of all.  Then came
forth Thiodolf from the midst of his kindred, and they raised him upon
a great war-shield upheld by many men, and he stood thereon and spake:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O sons of Tyr, ye have vanquished, and sore hath
been your pain;<br />
But he that smiteth in battle must ever smite again;<br />
And thus with you it fareth, and the day abideth yet<br />
When ye shall hold the Aliens as the fishes in the net.<br />
On the Ridge ye slew a many; but there came a many more<br />
From their strongholds by the water to their new-built garth of war,<br />
And all these have been led by dastards o’er the way our feet
must tread<br />
Through the eastern heaths and the beech-wood to the door of the Bearing
stead,<br />
Now e’en yesterday I deemed it, but I durst not haste away<br />
Ere the word was borne to Otter and ’tis he bids haste to-day;<br />
So now by day and by night-tide it behoveth us to wend<br />
And wind the reel of battle and weave its web to end.<br />
Had ye deemed my eyes foreseeing, I would tell you of my sight,<br />
How I see the folk delivered and the Aliens turned to flight,<br />
While my own feet wend them onwards to the ancient Father’s Home.<br />
But belike these are but the visions that to many a man shall come<br />
When he goeth adown to the battle, and before him riseth high<br />
The wall of valiant foemen to hide all things anigh.<br />
But indeed I know full surely that no work that we may win<br />
To-morrow or the next day shall quench the Markmen’s kin.<br />
On many a day hereafter shall their warriors carry shield;<br />
On many a day their maidens shall drive the kine afield,<br />
On many a day their reapers bear sickle in the wheat<br />
When the golden wind-wrought ripple stirs round the feast-hall’s
feet.<br />
Lo, now is the day’s work easy—to live and overcome,<br />
Or to die and yet to conquer on the threshold of the Home.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And therewith he gat him down and went a-foot to the head of the
Wolfing band, a great shout going with him, which was mingled with the
voice of the war-horn that bade away.</p>
<p>So fell the whole host into due array, and they were somewhat over
three thousand warriors, all good and tried men and meet to face the
uttermost of battle in the open field; so they went their ways with
all the speed that footmen may, and in fair order; and the sky cleared
above their heads, but the distant thunder still growled about the world. 
Geirbald and Viglund joined themselves to the Wolfings and went a-foot
along with Wolfkettle; but Hiarandi went with his kindred who were second
in the array.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XX—OTTER AND HIS FOLK COME INTO MID-MARK</h2>
<p>Otter and his folk rode their ways along Mirkwood-water, and made
no stay, except now and again to breathe their horses, till they came
to Battleford in the early morning; there they baited their horses,
for the grass was good in the meadow, and the water easy to come at.</p>
<p>So after they had rested there a short hour, and had eaten what was
easy for them to get, they crossed the ford, and wended along Mirkwood-water
between the wood and the river, but went slower than before lest they
should weary their horses; so that it was high-noon before they had
come out of the woodland way into Mid-mark; and at once as soon as the
whole plain of the Mark opened out before them, they saw what most of
them looked to see (since none doubted Hrosshild’s tale), and
that was a column of smoke rising high and straight up into the air,
for the afternoon was hot and windless.  Great wrath rose in their
hearts thereat, and many a strong man trembled for anger, though none
for fear, as Otter raised his right hand and stretched it out towards
that token of wrack and ruin; yet they made no stay, nor did they quicken
their pace much; because they knew that they should come to Bearham
before night-fall, and they would not meet the Romans way-worn and haggard;
but they rode on steadily, a terrible company of wrathful men.</p>
<p>They passed by the dwellings of the kindreds, though save for the
Galtings the houses on the east side of the water between the Bearings
and the wild-wood road were but small; for the thicket came somewhat
near to the water and pinched the meadows.  But the Galtings were
great hunters and trackers of the wild-wood, and they of the Geddings,
the Erings and the Withings, which were smaller Houses, lived somewhat
on the take of fish from Mirkwood-water (as did the Laxings also of
the Nether-mark), for thereabout were there goodly pools and eddies,
and sun-warmed shallows therewithal for the spawning of the trouts;
as there were eyots in the water, most of which tailed off into a gravelly
shallow at their lower ends.</p>
<p>Now as the riders of the Goths came over against the dwellings of
the Withings, they saw people, mostly women, driving up the beasts from
the meadow towards the garth; but upon the tofts about their dwellings
were gathered many folk, who had their eyes turned toward the token
of ravage that hung in the sky above the fair plain; but when these
beheld the riding of the host, they tossed up their arms to them and
whatever they bore in them, and the sound of their shrill cry (for they
were all women and young lads) came down the wind to the ears of the
riders.  But down by the river on a swell of the ground were some
swains and a few thralls, and among them some men armed and a-horseback;
and these, when they perceived the host coming on turned and rode to
meet them; and as they drew near they shouted as men overjoyed to meet
their kindred; and indeed the fighting-men of their own House were riding
in the host.  And the armed men were three old men, and one very
old with marvellous long white hair, and four long lads of some fifteen
winters, and four stout carles of the thralls bearing bows and bucklers,
and these rode behind the swains; so they found their own kindred and
rode amongst them.</p>
<p>But when they were all jingling and clashing on together, the dust
arising from the sun-dried turf, the earth shaking with the thunder
of the horse-hoofs, then the heart of the long-hoary one stirred within
him as he bethought him of the days of his youth, and to his old nostrils
came the smell of the horses and the savour of the sweat of warriors
riding close together knee to knee adown the meadow.  So he lifted
up his voice and sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>   “Rideth lovely along<br />
   The strong by the strong;<br />
   Soft under his breath<br />
   Singeth sword in the sheath,<br />
   And shield babbleth oft<br />
   Unto helm-crest aloft;<br />
How soon shall their words rise mid wrath of the battle<br />
Into wrangle unheeded of clanging and rattle,<br />
And no man shall note then the gold on the sword<br />
When the runes have no meaning, the mouth-cry no word,<br />
When all mingled together, the war-sea of men<br />
Shall toss up the steel-spray round fourscore and ten.</p>
<p>   “Now as maids burn the weed<br />
   Betwixt acre and mead,<br />
   So the Bearings’ Roof<br />
   Burneth little aloof,<br />
   And red gloweth the hall<br />
   Betwixt wall and fair wall,<br />
Where often the mead-sea we sipped in old days,<br />
When our feet were a-weary with wending the ways;<br />
When the love of the lovely at even was born,<br />
And our hands felt fair hands as they fell on the horn.<br />
There round about standeth the ring of the foe<br />
Tossing babes on their spears like the weeds o’er the low.</p>
<p>   “Ride, ride then! nor spare<br />
   The red steeds as ye fare!<br />
   Yet if daylight shall fail,<br />
   By the fire-light of bale<br />
   Shall we see the bleared eyes<br />
   Of the war-learned, the wise.<br />
In the acre of battle the work is to win,<br />
Let us live by the labour, sheaf-smiting therein;<br />
And as oft o’er the sickle we sang in time past<br />
When the crake that long mocked us fled light at the last,<br />
So sing o’er the sword, and the sword-hardened hand<br />
Bearing down to the reaping the wrath of the land.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So he sang; and a great shout went up from his kindred and those
around him, and it was taken up all along the host, though many knew
not why they shouted, and the whole host quickened its pace, and went
a great trot over the smooth meadow.</p>
<p>So in no long while were they come over against the stead of the
Erings, and thereabouts were no beasts afield, and no women, for all
the neat were driven into the garth of the House; but all they who were
not war-fit were standing without doors looking down the Mark towards
the reek of the Bearing dwellings, and these also sent a cry of welcome
toward the host of their kindred.  But along the river-bank came
to meet the host an armed band of two old men, two youths who were their
sons, and twelve thralls who were armed with long spears; and all these
were a-horseback: so they fell in with their kindred and the host made
no stay for them, but pressed on over-running the meadow.  And
still went up that column of smoke, and thicker and blacker it grew
a-top, and ruddier amidmost.</p>
<p>So came they by the abode of the Geddings, and there also the neat
and sheep were close in the home-garth: but armed men were lying or
standing about the river bank, talking or singing merrily none otherwise
than though deep peace were on the land; and when they saw the faring
of the host they sprang to their feet with a shout and gat to their
horses at once: they were more than the other bands had been, for the
Geddings were a greater House; they were seven old men, and ten swains,
and ten thralls bearing long spears like to those of the Erings; and
no sooner had they fallen in with their kindred, than the men of the
host espied a greater company yet coming to meet them: and these were
of the folk of the Galtings; and amongst them were ten warriors in their
prime, because they had but of late come back from the hunting in the
wood and had been belated from the muster of the kindreds; and with
them were eight old men and fifteen lads, and eighteen thralls; and
the swains and thralls all bore bows besides the swords that they were
girt withal, and not all of them had horses, but they who had none rode
behind the others: so they joined themselves to the host, shouting aloud;
and they had with them a great horn that they blew on till they had
taken their place in the array; and whereas their kindred was with Thiodolf,
they followed along with the hinder men of the Shieldings.</p>
<p>So now all the host went on together, and when they had passed the
Galting abodes, there was nothing between them and Bearham, nor need
they look for any further help of men; there were no beasts afield nor
any to herd them, and the stay-at-homes were within doors dighting them
for departure into the wild-wood if need should be: but a little while
after they had passed these dwellings came into the host two swains
of about twenty winters, and a doughty maid, their sister, and they
bare no weapons save short spears and knives; they were wet and dripping
with the water, for they had just swum Mirkwood-water.  They were
of the Wolfing House, and had been shepherding a few sheep on the west
side of the water, when they saw the host faring to battle, and might
not refrain them, but swam their horses across the swift deeps to join
their kindred to live and die with them.  The tale tells that they
three fought in the battles that followed after, and were not slain
there, though they entered them unarmed, but lived long years afterwards:
of them need no more be said.</p>
<p>Now, when the host was but a little past the Galting dwellings men
began to see the flames mingled with the smoke of the burning, and the
smoke itself growing thinner, as though the fire had over-mastered everything
and was consuming itself with its own violence; and somewhat afterwards,
the ground rising, they could see the Bearing meadow and the foemen
thereon: yet a little further, and from the height of another swelling
of the earth they could see the burning houses themselves and the array
of the Romans; so there they stayed and breathed their horses a while. 
And they beheld how of the Romans a great company was gathered together
in close array betwixt the ford and the Bearing Hall, but nigher unto
the ford, and these were a short mile from them; but others they saw
streaming out from the burning dwellings, as if their work were done
there, and they could not see that they had any captives with them. 
Other Romans there were, and amongst them men in the attire of the Goths,
busied about the river banks, as though they were going to try the ford.</p>
<p>But a little while abode Otter in that place, and then waved his
arm and rode on and all the host followed; and as they drew nigher,
Otter, who was wise in war, beheld the Romans and deemed them a great
host, and the very kernel and main body of them many more than all his
company; and moreover they were duly and well arrayed as men waiting
a foe; so he knew that he must be wary or he would lose himself and
all his men.</p>
<p>So he stayed his company when they were about two furlongs from them,
and the main body of the foe stirred not, but horsemen and slingers
came forth from its sides and made on toward the Goths, and in three
or four minutes were within bowshot of them.  Then the bowmen of
the Goths slipped down from their horses and bent their bows and nocked
their arrows and let fly, and slew and hurt many of the horsemen, who
endured their shot but for a minute or two and then turned rein and
rode back slowly to their folk, and the slingers came not on very eagerly
whereas they were dealing with men a-horseback, and the bowmen of the
Goths also held them still.</p>
<p>Now turned Otter to his folk and made them a sign, which they knew
well, that they should get down from their horses; and when they were
afoot the leaders of tens and hundreds arrayed them, into the wedge-array,
with the bowmen on either flank: and Otter smiled as he beheld this
adoing and that the Romans meddled not with them, belike because they
looked to have them good cheap, since they were but a few wild men.</p>
<p>But when they were all arrayed he sat still on his horse and spake
to them short and sharply, saying:</p>
<p>“Men of the Goths, will ye mount your horses again and ride
into the wood and let it cover you, or will ye fight these Romans?” 
They answered him with a great shout and the clashing of their weapons
on their shields.  “That is well,” quoth Otter, “since
we have come so far; for I perceive that the foe will come to meet us,
so that we must either abide their shock or turn our backs.  Yet
must we fight wisely or we are undone, and Thiodolf in risk of undoing;
this have we to do if we may, to thrust in between them and the ford,
and if we may do that, there let us fight it out, till we fall one over
another.  But if we may not do it, then will we not throw our lives
away but do the foemen what hurt we may without mingling ourselves amongst
them, and so abide the coming of Thiodolf; for if we get not betwixt
them and the ford we may in no case hinder them from crossing. 
And all this I tell you that ye may follow me wisely, and refrain your
wrath that ye may live yet to give it the rein when the time comes.”</p>
<p>So he spake and got down from his horse and drew his sword and went
to the head of the wedge-array and began slowly to lead forth; but the
thralls and swains had heed of the horses, and they drew aback with
them towards the wood which was but a little way from them.</p>
<p>But for Otter he led his men down towards the ford, and when the
Romans saw that, their main body began to move forward, faring slant-wise,
as a crab, down toward the ford; then Otter hastened somewhat, as he
well might, since his men were well learned in war and did not break
their array; but now by this time were those burners of the Romans come
up with the main battle, and the Roman captain sent them at once against
the Goths, and they advanced boldly enough, a great cloud of men in
loose array who fell to with arrows and slings on the wedge-array and
slew and hurt many: yet did not Otter stay his folk; but it was ill
going for them, for their unshielded sides were turned to the Romans,
nor durst Otter scatter his bowmen out from the wedge-array, lest the
Romans, who were more than they, should enter in amongst them. 
Ever he gazed earnestly on the main battle of the Romans, and what they
were doing, and presently it became clear to him that they would outgo
him and come to the ford, and then he wotted well that they would set
on him just when their light-armed were on his flank and his rearward,
and then it would go hard but they would break their array and all would
be lost: therefore he slacked his pace and went very slowly and the
Romans went none the slower for that; but their light-armed grew bolder
and drew more together as they came nigher to the Goths, as though they
would give them an onset; but just at that nick of time Otter passed
the word down the ranks, and, waving his sword, turned sharply to the
right and fell with all the wedge-array on the clustering throng of
the light-armed, and his bowmen spread out now from the right flank
of the wedge-array, and shot sharp and swift and the bowmen on the left
flank ran forward swiftly till they had cleared the wedge-array and
were on the flank of the light-armed Romans; and they, what between
the onset of the swordsmen and spearmen of the Goths, and their sharp
arrows, knew not which way to turn, and a great slaughter befell amongst
them, and they of them were the happiest who might save themselves by
their feet.</p>
<p>Now after this storm, and after these men had been thrust away, Otter
stayed not, but swept round about the field toward the horses; and indeed
he looked to it that the main-battle of the Romans should follow him,
but they did not, but stayed still to receive the fleers of their light-armed. 
And this indeed was the goodhap of the Goths; for they were somewhat
disordered by their chase of the light-armed, and they smote and spared
not, their hearts being full of bitter wrath, as might well be; for
even as they turned on the Romans, they beheld the great roof of the
Bearings fall in over the burned hall, and a great shower of sparks
burst up from its fall, and there were the ragged gables left standing,
licked by little tongues of flame which could not take hold of them
because of the clay which filled the spaces between the great timbers
and was daubed over them.  And they saw that all the other houses
were either alight or smouldering, down to the smallest cot of a thrall,
and even the barns and booths both great and little.</p>
<p>Therefore, whereas the Markmen were far fewer in all than the Roman
main-battle, and whereas this same host was in very good array, no doubt
there was that the Markmen would have been grievously handled had the
Romans fallen on; but the Roman Captain would not have it so: for though
he was a bold man, yet was his boldness that of the wolf, that falleth
on when he is hungry and skulketh when he is full.  He was both
young and very rich, and a mighty man among his townsmen, and well had
he learned that ginger is hot in the mouth, and though he had come forth
to the war for the increasing of his fame, he had no will to die among
the Markmen, either for the sake of the city of Rome, or of any folk
whatsoever, but was liefer to live for his own sake.  Therefore
was he come out to vanquish easily, that by his fame won he might win
more riches and dominion in Rome; and he was well content also to have
for his own whatever was choice amongst the plunder of these wild-men
(as he deemed them), if it were but a fair woman or two.  So this
man thought, It is my business to cross the ford and come to Wolfstead,
and there take the treasure of the tribe, and have a stronghold there,
whence we may slay so many of these beasts with little loss to us that
we may march away easily and with our hands full, even if Maenius with
his men come not to our aid, as full surely he will: therefore as to
these angry men, who be not without might and conduct in battle, let
us remember the old saw that saith ‘a bridge of gold to a fleeing
foe,’ and let them depart with no more hurt of Romans, and seek
us afterwards when we are fenced into their stead, which shall then
be our stronghold: even so spake he to his Captains about him.</p>
<p>For it must be told that he had no tidings of the overthrow of the
Romans on the Ridge; nor did he know surely how many fighting-men the
Markmen might muster, except by the report of those dastards of the
Goths; and though he had taken those two women in the wastes, yet had
he got no word from them, for they did as the Hall-Sun bade them, when
they knew that they would be questioned with torments, and smiting themselves
each with a little sharp knife, so went their ways to the Gods.</p>
<p>Thus then the Roman Captain let the Markmen go their ways, and turned
toward the ford, and the Markmen went slowly now toward their horses. 
Howbeit there were many of them who murmured against Otter, saying that
it was ill done to have come so far and ridden so hard, and then to
have done so little, and that were to-morrow come, they would not be
led away so easily: but now they said it was ill; for the Romans would
cross the water, and make their ways to Wolfstead, none hindering them,
and would burn the dwellings and slay the old men and thralls, and have
away the women and children and the Hall-Sun the treasure of the Markmen. 
In sooth, they knew not that a band of the Roman light-armed had already
crossed the water, and had fallen upon the dwellings of the Wolfings;
but that the old men and younglings and thralls of the House had come
upon them as they were entangled amidst the tofts and the garths, and
had overcome them and slain many.</p>
<p>Thus went Otter and his men to their horses when it was now drawing
toward sunset (for all this was some while adoing), and betook them
to a rising ground not far from the wood-side, and there made what sort
of a garth they might, with their horses and the limbs of trees and
long-shafted spears; and they set a watch and abode in the garth right
warily, and lighted no fires when night fell, but ate what meat they
had with them, which was but little, and so sleeping and watching abode
the morning.  But the main body of the Romans did not cross the
ford that night, for they feared lest they might go astray therein,
for it was an ill ford to those that knew not the water: so they abode
on the bank nigh to the water’s edge, with the mind to cross as
soon as it was fairly daylight.</p>
<p>Now Otter had lost of his men some hundred and twenty slain or grievously
hurt, and they had away with them the hurt men and the bodies of the
slain.  The tale tells not how many of the Romans were slain, but
a many of their light-armed had fallen, since the Markmen had turned
so hastily upon them, and they had with them many of the best bowmen
of the Mark.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXI—THEY BICKER ABOUT THE FORD</h2>
<p>In the grey of the morning was Otter afoot with the watchers, and
presently he got on his horse and peered over the plain, but the mist
yet hung low on it, so that he might see nought for a while; but at
last he seemed to note something coming toward the host from the upper
water above the ford, so he rode forward to meet it, and lo, it was
a lad of fifteen winters, naked save his breeches, and wet from the
river; and Otter drew rein, and the lad said to him: “Art thou
the War-duke?”  “Yea,” said Otter.</p>
<p>Said the lad, “I am Ali, the son of Grey, and the Hall-Sun
hath sent me to thee with this word: ‘Are ye coming?  Is
Thiodolf at hand?  For I have seen the Roof-ridge red in the sunlight
as if it were painted with cinnabar.’”</p>
<p>Said Otter, “Art thou going back to Wolfstead, son?”</p>
<p>“Yea, at once, my father,” said Ali.</p>
<p>“Then tell her,” said Otter, “that Thiodolf is
at hand, and when he cometh we shall both together fall upon the Romans
either in crossing the ford or in the Wolfing meadow; but tell her also
that I am not strong enough to hinder the Romans from crossing.”</p>
<p>“Father,” said Ali, “the Hall-Sun saith: Thou art
wise in war; now tell us, shall we hold the Hall against the Romans
that ye may find us there?  For we have discomfited their vanguard
already, and we have folk who can fight; but belike the main battle
of the Romans shall get the upper hand of us ere ye come to our helping:
belike it were better to leave the hall, and let the wood cover us.”</p>
<p>“Now is this well asked,” said Otter; “get thee
back, my son, and bid the Hall-Sun trust not to warding of the Hall,
for the Romans are a mighty host: and this day, even when Thiodolf cometh
hither, shall be hard for the Goth-folk: let her hasten lest these thieves
come upon her hastily; let her take the Hall-Sun her namesake, and the
old men and children and the women, and let those fighting folk she
hath be a guard to all this in the wood.  And hearken moreover;
it will, maybe, be six hours ere Thiodolf cometh; tell her I will cast
the dice for life or death, and stir up these Romans now at once, that
they may have other things to think of than burning old men and women
and children in their dwellings; thus may she reach the wood unhindered. 
Hast thou all this in thine head?  Then go thy ways.”</p>
<p>But the lad lingered, and he reddened and looked on the ground and
then he said: “My father, I swam the deeps, and when I reached
this bank, I crept along by the mist and the reeds toward where the
Romans are, and I came near to them, and noted what they were doing;
and I tell thee that they are already stirring to take the water at
the ford.  Now then do what thou wilt.”</p>
<p>Therewith he turned about, and went his way at once, running like
a colt which has never felt halter or bit.</p>
<p>But Otter rode back hastily and roused certain men in whom he trusted,
and bid them rouse the captains and all the host and bid men get to
horse speedily and with as little noise as might be.  So did they,
and there was little delay, for men were sleeping with one eye open,
as folk say, and many were already astir.  So in a little while
they were all in the saddle, and the mist yet stretched low over the
meadow; for the morning was cool and without wind.  Then Otter
bade the word be carried down the ranks that they should ride as quietly
as may be and fare through the mist to do the Romans some hurt, but
in nowise to get entangled in their ranks, and all men to heed well
the signal of turning and drawing aback; and therewith they rode off
down the meadow led by men who could have led them through the dark
night.</p>
<p>But for the Romans, they were indeed getting ready to cross the ford
when the mist should have risen; and on the bank it was thinning already
and melting away; for a little air of wind was beginning to breathe
from the north-east and the sunrise, which was just at hand; and the
bank, moreover, was stonier and higher than the meadow’s face,
which fell away from it as a shallow dish from its rim: thereon yet
lay the mist like a white wall.</p>
<p>So the Romans and their friends the dastards of the Goths had well
nigh got all ready, and had driven stakes into the water from bank to
bank to mark out the safe ford, and some of their light-armed and most
of their Goths were by now in the water or up on the Wolfing meadow
with the more part of their baggage and wains; and the rest of the host
was drawn up in good order, band by band, waiting the word to take the
water, and the captain was standing nigh to the river bank beside their
God the chief banner of the Host.</p>
<p>Of a sudden one of the dastards of the Goths who was close to the
Captain cried out that he heard horse coming; but because he spake in
the Gothic tongue, few heeded; but even therewith an old leader of a
hundred cried out the same tidings in the Roman tongue, and all men
fell to handling their weapons; but before they could face duly toward
the meadow, came rushing from out of the mist a storm of shafts that
smote many men, and therewithal burst forth the sound of the Markmen’s
war-horn, like the roaring of a hundred bulls mingled with the thunder
of horses at the gallop; and then dark over the wall of mist showed
the crests of the riders of the Mark, though scarce were their horses
seen till their whole war-rank came dark and glittering into the space
of the rising-ground where the mist was but a haze now, and now at last
smitten athwart by the low sun just arisen.</p>
<p>Therewith came another storm of shafts, wherein javelins and spears
cast by the hand were mingled with the arrows: but the Roman ranks had
faced the meadow and the storm which it yielded, swiftly and steadily,
and they stood fast and threw their spears, albeit not with such good
aim as might have been, because of their haste, so that few were slain
by them.  And the Roman Captain still loth to fight with the Goths
in earnest for no reward, and still more and more believing that this
was the only band of them that he had to look to, bade those who were
nighest the ford not to tarry for the onset of a few wild riders, but
to go their ways into the water; else by a sudden onrush might the Romans
have entangled Otter’s band in their ranks, and so destroyed all. 
As it was the horsemen fell not on the Roman ranks full in face, but
passing like a storm athwart the ranks to the right, fell on there where
they were in thinnest array (for they were gathered to the ford as aforesaid),
and slew some and drave some into the deeps and troubled the whole Roman
host.</p>
<p>So now the Roman Captain was forced to take new order, and gather
all his men together, and array his men for a hard fight; and by now
the mist was rolling off from the face of the whole meadow and the sun
was bright and hot.  His men serried their ranks, and the front
rank cast their spears, and slew both men and horses of the Goths as
those rode along their front casting their javelins, and shooting here
and there from behind their horses if occasion served, or making a shift
to send an arrow even as they sat a-horseback; then the second rank
of the Romans would take the place of the first, and cast in their turn,
and they who had taken the water turned back and took their place behind
the others, and many of the light-armed came with them, and all the
mass of them flowed forward together, looking as if it might never be
broken.  But Otter would not abide the shock, since he had lost
men and horses, and had no mind to be caught in the sweep of their net;
so he made the sign, and his Company drew off to right and left, yet
keeping within bowshot, so that the bowmen still loosed at the Romans.</p>
<p>But they for their part might not follow afoot men on untired horses,
and their own horse was on the west side with the baggage, and had it
been there would have been but of little avail, as the Roman Captain
knew.  So they stood awhile making grim countenance, and then slowly
drew back to the ford under cover of their light-armed who shot at the
Goths as they rode forward, but abode not their shock.</p>
<p>But Otter and his folk followed after the Romans again, and again
did them some hurt, and at last drew so nigh, that once more the Romans
stormed forth, and once more smote a stroke in the air; nor even so
would the Markmen cease to meddle with them, though never would Otter
suffer his men to be mingled with them.  At the last the Romans,
seeing that Otter would not walk into the open trap, and growing weary
of this bickering, began to take the water little by little, while a
strong Company kept face to the Markmen; and now Otter saw that they
would not be hindered any longer, and he had lost many men, and even
now feared lest he should be caught in the trap, and so lose all. 
And on the other hand it was high noon by now, so that he had given
respite to the stay-at-homes of the Wolfings, so that they might get
them into the wood.  So he drew out of bowshot and bade his men
breathe their horses and rest themselves and eat something; and they
did so gladly, since they saw that they might not fall upon the Romans
to live and die for it until Thiodolf was come, or until they knew that
he was not coming.  But the Romans crossed the ford in good earnest
and were soon all gathered together on the western bank making them
ready for the march to Wolfstead.  And it must be told that the
Roman Captain was the more deliberate about this because after the overthrow
of his light-armed there the morning before, he thought that the Roof
was held by warriors of the kindreds, and not by a few old men, and
women, and lads.  Therefore he had no fear of their escaping him. 
Moreover it was this imagination of his, to wit that a strong band of
warriors was holding Wolf-stead, that made him deem there were no more
worth thinking about of the warriors of the Mark save Otter’s
Company and the men in the Hall of the Wolfings.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXII—OTTER FALLS ON AGAINST HIS WILL</h2>
<p>It was with the same imagination working in him belike that the Roman
Captain set none to guard the ford on the westward side of Mirkwood-water. 
The Romans tarried there but a little hour, and then went their ways;
but Otter sent a man on a swift horse to watch them, and when they were
clean gone for half an hour, he bade his folk to horse, and they departed,
all save a handful of the swains and elders, who were left to tell the
tidings to Thiodolf when he should come into Mid-mark.</p>
<p>So Otter and his folk crossed the ford, and drew up in good order
on the westward bank, and it was then somewhat more than three hours
after noon.  He had been there but a little while before he noted
a stir in the Bearing meadow, and lo, it was the first of Thiodolf’s
folk, who had gotten out of the wood and had fallen in with the men
whom he had left behind.  And these first were the riders of the
Bearings, and the Wormings, (for they had out-gone the others who were
afoot).  It may well be thought how fearful was their anger when
they set eyes on the smouldering ashes of the dwellings; nor even when
those folk of Otter had told them all they had to tell could some of
them refrain them from riding off to the burnt houses to seek for the
bodies of their kindred.  But when they came there, and amidst
the ashes could find no bones, their hearts were lightened, and yet
so mad wroth they were, that some could scarce sit their horses, and
great tears gushed from the eyes of some, and pattered down like hail-stones,
so eager were they to see the blood of the Romans.  So they rode
back to where they had left their folk talking with them of Otter; and
the Bearings were sitting grim upon their horses and somewhat scowling
on Otter’s men.  Then the foremost of those who had come
back from the houses waved his hand toward the ford, but could say nought
for a while; but the captain and chief of the Bearings, a grizzled man
very big of body, whose name was Arinbiorn, spake to that man and said;
“What aileth thee Sweinbiorn the Black?  What hast thou seen?”</p>
<p>He said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Now red and grey is the pavement of the Bearings’
house of old:<br />
Red yet is the floor of the dais, but the hearth all grey and cold.<br />
I knew not the house of my fathers; I could not call to mind<br />
The fashion of the building of that Warder of the Wind.<br />
O wide were grown the windows, and the roof exceeding high!<br />
For nought there was to look on ’twixt the pavement and the sky.<br />
But the tie-beam lay on the dais, and methought its staining fair;<br />
For rings of smoothest charcoal were round it here and there,<br />
And the red flame flickered o’er it, and never a staining wight<br />
Hath red earth in his coffer so clear and glittering bright,<br />
And still the little smoke-wreaths curled o’er it pale and blue.<br />
Yea, fair is our hall’s adorning for a feast that is strange and
new.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Said Arinbiorn: “What sawest thou therein, O Sweinbiorn, where
sat thy grandsire at the feast?  Where were the bones of thy mother
lying?”</p>
<p>Said Sweinbiorn:</p>
<blockquote><p>“We sought the feast-hall over, and nought we found
therein<br />
Of the bones of the ancient mothers, or the younglings of the kin.<br />
The men are greedy, doubtless, to lose no whit of the prey,<br />
And will try if the hoary elders may yet outlive the way<br />
That leads to the southland cities, till at last they come to stand<br />
With the younglings in the market to be sold in an alien land.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Arinbiorn’s brow lightened somewhat; but ere he could speak
again an ancient thrall of the Galtings spake and said:</p>
<p>“True it is, O warriors of the Bearings, that we might not
see any war-thralls being led away by the Romans when they came away
from the burning dwellings; and we deem it certain that they crossed
the water before the coming of the Romans, and that they are now with
the stay-at-homes of the Wolfings in the wild-wood behind the Wolfing
dwellings, for we hear tell that the War-duke would not that the Hall-Sun
should hold the Hall against the whole Roman host.”</p>
<p>Then Sweinbiorn tossed up his sword into the air and caught it by
the hilts as it fell, and cried out: “On, on to the meadow, where
these thieves abide us!”  Arinbiorn spake no word, but turned
his horse and rode down to the ford, and all men followed him; and of
the Bearings there were an hundred warriors save one, and of the Wormings
eighty and seven.</p>
<p>So rode they over the meadow and into the ford and over it, and Otter’s
company stood on the bank to meet them, and shouted to see them; but
the others made but little noise as they crossed the water.</p>
<p>So when they were on the western bank Arinbiorn came among them of
Otter, and cried out: “Where then is Otter, where is the War-duke,
is he alive or dead?”</p>
<p>And the throng opened to him and Otter stood facing him; and Arinbiorn
spake and said: “Thou art alive and unhurt, War-duke, when many
have been hurt and slain; and methinks thy company is little minished
though the kindred of the Bearings lacketh a roof; and its elders and
women and children are gone into captivity.  What is this? 
Was it a light thing that gangrel thieves should burn and waste in Mid-mark
and depart unhurt, that ye stand here with clean blades and cold bodies?”</p>
<p>Said Otter: “Thou grievest for the hurt of thine House, Arinbiorn;
but this at least is good, that though ye have lost the timber of your
house ye have not lost its flesh and blood; the shell is gone, but the
kernel is saved: for thy folk are by this time in the wood with the
Wolfing stay-at-homes, and among these are many who may fight on occasion,
so they are safe as for this time: the Romans may not come at them to
hurt them.”</p>
<p>Said Arinbiorn: “Had ye time to learn all this, Otter, when
ye fled so fast before the Romans, that the father tarried not for the
son, nor the son for the father?”</p>
<p>He spoke in a loud voice so that many heard him, and some deemed
it evil; for anger and dissension between friends seemed abroad; but
some were so eager for battle, that the word of Arinbiorn seemed good
to them, and they laughed for pride and anger.</p>
<p>Then Otter answered meekly, for he was a wise man and a bold: “We
fled not, Arinbiorn, but as the sword fleeth, when it springeth up from
the iron helm to fall on the woollen coat.  Are we not now of more
avail to you, O men of the Bearings, than our dead corpses would have
been?”</p>
<p>Arinbiorn answered not, but his face waxed red, as if he were struggling
with a weight hard to lift: then said Otter:</p>
<p>“But when will Thiodolf and the main battle be with us?”</p>
<p>Arinbiorn answered calmly: “Maybe in a little hour from now,
or somewhat more.”</p>
<p>Said Otter: “My rede is that we abide him here, and when we
are all met and well ordered together, fall on the Romans at once: for
then shall we be more than they; whereas now we are far fewer, and moreover
we shall have to set on them in their ground of vantage.”</p>
<p>Arinbiorn answered nothing; but an old man of the Bearings, one Thorbiorn,
came up and spake:</p>
<p>“Warriors, here are we talking and taking counsel, though this
is no Hallowed Thing to bid us what we shall do, and what we shall forbear;
and to talk thus is less like warriors than old women wrangling over
the why and wherefore of a broken crock.  Let the War-duke rule
here, as is but meet and right.  Yet if I might speak and not break
the peace of the Goths, then would I say this, that it might be better
for us to fall on these Romans at once before they have cast up a dike
about them, as Fox telleth is their wont, and that even in an hour they
may do much.”</p>
<p>As he spake there was a murmur of assent about him, but Otter spake
sharply, for he was grieved.</p>
<p>“Thorbiorn, thou art old, and shouldest not be void of prudence. 
Now it had been better for thee to have been in the wood to-day to order
the women and the swains according to thine ancient wisdom than to egg
on my young warriors to fare unwarily.  Here will I abide Thiodolf.”</p>
<p>Then Thorbiorn reddened and was wroth; but Arinbiorn spake:</p>
<p>“What is this to-do?  Let the War-duke rule as is but
right: but I am now become a man of Thiodolf’s company; and he
bade me haste on before to help all I might.  Do thou as thou wilt,
Otter: for Thiodolf shall be here in an hour’s space, and if much
diking shall be done in an hour, yet little slaying, forsooth, shall
be done, and that especially if the foe is all armed and slayeth women
and children.  Yea if the Bearing women be all slain, yet shall
not Tyr make us new ones out of the stones of the waste to wed with
the Galtings and the fish-eating Houses?—this is easy to be done
forsooth.  Yea, easier than fighting the Romans and overcoming
them!”</p>
<p>And he was very wrath, and turned away; and again there was a murmur
and a hum about him.  But while these had been speaking aloud,
Sweinbiorn had been talking softly to some of the younger men, and now
he shook his naked sword in the air and spake aloud and sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Ye tarry, Bears of Battle! ye linger, Sons of
the Worm!<br />
Ye crouch adown, O kindreds, from the gathering of the storm!<br />
Ye say, it shall soon pass over and we shall fare afield<br />
And reap the wheat with the war-sword and winnow in the shield.<br />
But where shall be the corner wherein ye then shall abide,<br />
And where shall be the woodland where the whelps of the bears shall
hide<br />
When ’twixt the snowy mountains and the edges of the sea<br />
These men have swept the wild-wood and the fields where men may be<br />
Of every living sword-blade, and every quivering spear,<br />
And in the southland cities the yoke of slaves ye bear?<br />
Lo ye! whoever follows I fare to sow the seed<br />
Of the days to be hereafter and the deed that comes of deed.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he waved his sword over his head, and made as if he would
spur onward.  But Arinbiorn thrust through the press and outwent
him and cried out:</p>
<p>“None goeth before Arinbiorn the Old when the battle is pitched
in the meadows of the kindred.  Come, ye sons of the Bear, ye children
of the Worm!  And come ye, whosoever hath a will to see stout men
die!”</p>
<p>Then on he rode nor looked behind him, and the riders of the Bearings
and the Wormings drew themselves out of the throng, and followed him,
and rode clattering over the meadow towards Wolfstead.  A few of
the others rode with them, and yet but a few.  For they remembered
the holy Folk-mote and the oath of the War-duke, and how they had chosen
Otter to be their leader.  Howbeit, man looked askance at man,
as if in shame to be left behind.</p>
<p>But Otter bethought him in the flash of a moment, “If these
men ride alone, they shall die and do nothing; and if we ride with them
it may be that we shall overthrow the Romans, and if we be vanquished,
it shall go hard but we shall slay many of them, so that it shall be
the easier for Thiodolf to deal with them.”</p>
<p>Then he spake hastily, and bade certain men abide at the ford for
a guard; then he drew his sword and rode to the front of his folk, and
cried out aloud to them:</p>
<p>“Now at last has come the time to die, and let them of the
Markmen who live hereafter lay us in howe.  Set on, Sons of Tyr,
and give not your lives away, but let them be dearly earned of our foemen.”</p>
<p>Then all shouted loudly and gladly; nor were they otherwise than
exceeding glad; for now had they forgotten all other joys of life save
the joy of fighting for the kindred and the days to be.</p>
<p>So Otter led them forth, and when he heard the whole company clattering
and thundering on the earth behind him and felt their might enter into
him, his brow cleared, and the anxious lines in the face of the old
man smoothed themselves out, and as he rode along the soul so stirred
within him that he sang out aloud:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Time was when hot was the summer and I was young
on the earth,<br />
And I grudged me every moment that lacked its share of mirth.<br />
I woke in the morn and was merry and all the world methought<br />
For me and my heart’s deliverance that hour was newly wrought.<br />
I have passed through the halls of manhood, I have reached the doors
of eld,<br />
And I have been glad and sorry, but ever have upheld<br />
My heart against all trouble that none might call me sad,<br />
But ne’er came such remembrance of how my heart was glad<br />
In the afternoon of summer ’neath the still unwearied sun<br />
Of the days when I was little and all deeds were hopes to be won,<br />
As now at last it cometh when e’en in such-like tide,<br />
For the freeing of my trouble o’er the fathers’ field I
ride.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Many men perceived that he sang, and saw that he was merry, howbeit
few heard his very words, and yet all were glad of him.</p>
<p>Fast they rode, being wishful to catch up with the Bearings and the
Wormings, and soon they came anigh them, and they, hearing the thunder
of the horse-hoofs, looked and saw that it was the company of Otter,
and so slacked their speed till they were all joined together with joyous
shouting and laughter.  So then they ordered the ranks anew and
so set forward in great joy without haste or turmoil toward Wolfstead
and the Romans.  For now the bitterness of their fury and the sourness
of their abiding wrath were turned into the mere joy of battle; even
as the clear red and sweet wine comes of the ugly ferment and rough
trouble of the must.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXIII—THIODOLF MEETETH THE ROMANS IN THE WOLFING MEADOW</h2>
<p>It was scarce an hour after this that the footmen of Thiodolf came
out of the thicket road on to the meadow of the Bearings; there saw
they men gathered on a rising ground, and they came up to them and saw
how some of them were looking with troubled faces towards the ford and
what lay beyond it, and some toward the wood and the coming of Thiodolf. 
But these were they whom Otter had bidden abide Thiodolf there, and
he had sent two messengers to them for Thiodolf’s behoof that
he might have due tidings so soon as he came out of the thicket: the
first told how Otter had been compelled in a manner to fall on the Romans
along with the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings, and the second
who had but just then come, told how the Markmen had been worsted by
the Romans, and had given back from the Wolfing dwellings, and were
making a stand against the foemen in the meadow betwixt the ford and
Wolfstead.</p>
<p>Now when Thiodolf heard of these tidings he stayed not to ask long
questions, but led the whole host straightway down to the ford, lest
the remnant of Otter’s men should be driven down there, and the
Romans should hold the western bank against him.</p>
<p>At the ford there was none to withstand them, nor indeed any man
at all; for the men whom Otter had set there, when they heard that the
battle had gone against their kindred, had ridden their ways to join
them.  So Thiodolf crossed over the ford, he and his in good order
all afoot, he like to the others; but for him he was clad in the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk, but was unhelmeted and bare no shield.  Throng-plough
was naked in his hand as he came up all dripping on to the bank and
stood in the meadow of the Wolfings; his face was stern and set as he
gazed straight onward to the place of the fray, but he did not look
as joyous as his wont was in going down to the battle.</p>
<p>Now they had gone but a short way from the ford before the noise
of the fight and the blowing of horns came down the wind to them, but
it was a little way further before they saw the fray with their eyes;
because the ground fell away from the river somewhat at first, and then
rose and fell again before it went up in one slope toward the Wolfing
dwellings.</p>
<p>But when they were come to the top of the next swelling of the ground,
they beheld from thence what they had to deal with; for there round
about a ground of vantage was the field black with the Roman host, and
in the midst of it was a tangle of struggling men and tossing spears,
and glittering swords.</p>
<p>So when they beheld the battle of their kindred they gave a great
shout and hastened onward the faster; and they were ordered into the
wedge-array and Thiodolf led them, as meet it was.  And now even
as they who were on the outward edge of the array and could see what
was toward were looking on the battle with eager eyes, there came an
answering shout down the wind, which they knew for the voice of the
Goths amid the foemen, and then they saw how the ring of the Romans
shook and parted, and their array fell back, and lo the company of the
Markmen standing stoutly together, though sorely minished; and sure
it was that they had not fled or been scattered, but were ready to fall
one over another in one band, for there were no men straggling towards
the ford, though many masterless horses ran here and there about the
meadow.  Now, therefore, none doubted but that they would deliver
their friends from the Romans, and overthrow the foemen.</p>
<p>But now befel a wonder, a strange thing to tell of.  The Romans
soon perceived what was adoing, whereupon the half of them turned about
to face the new comers, while the other half still withstood the company
of Otter: the wedge-array of Thiodolf drew nearer and nearer till it
was hard on the place where it should spread itself out to storm down
on the foe, and the Goths beset by the Romans made them ready to fall
on from their side.  There was Thiodolf leading his host, and all
men looking for the token and sign to fall on; but even as he lifted
up Throng-plough to give that sign, a cloud came over his eyes and he
saw nought of all that was before him, and he staggered back as one
who hath gotten a deadly stroke, and so fell swooning to the earth,
though none had smitten him.  Then stayed was the wedge-array even
at the very point of onset, and the hearts of the Goths sank, for they
deemed that their leader was slain, and those who were nearest to him
raised him up and bore him hastily aback out of the battle; and the
Romans also had beheld him fall, and they also deemed him dead or sore
hurt, and shouted for joy and loitered not, but stormed forth on the
wedge-array like valiant men; for it must be told that they, who erst
out-numbered the company of Otter, were now much out-numbered, but they
deemed it might well be that they could dismay the Goths since they
had been stayed by the fall of their leader; and Otter’s company
were wearied with sore fighting against a great host.  Nevertheless
these last, who had not seen the fall of Thiodolf (for the Romans were
thick between him and them) fell on with such exceeding fury that they
drove the Romans who faced them back on those who had set on the wedge-array,
which also stood fast undismayed; for he who stood next to Thiodolf,
a man big of body, and stout of heart, hight Thorolf, hove up a great
axe and cried out aloud:</p>
<p>“Here is the next man to Thiodolf! here is one who will not
fall till some one thrusts him over, here is Thorolf of the Wolfings! 
Stand fast and shield you, and smite, though Thiodolf be gone untimely
to the Gods!”</p>
<p>So none gave back a foot, and fierce was the fight about the wedge-array;
and the men of Otter—but there was no Otter there, and many another
man was gone, and Arinbiorn the Old led them—these stormed on
so fiercely that they cleft their way through all and joined themselves
to their kindred, and the battle was renewed in the Wolfing meadow. 
But the Romans had this gain, that Thiodolf’s men had let go their
occasion for falling on the Romans with their line spread out so that
every man might use his weapons; yet were the Goths strong both in valiancy
and in numbers, nor might the Romans break into their array, and as
aforesaid the Romans were the fewer, for it was less than half of their
host that had pursued the Goths when they had been thrust back from
their fierce onset: nor did more than the half seem needed, so many
of them had fallen along with Otter the War-duke and Sweinbiorn of the
Bearings, that they seemed to the Romans but a feeble band easy to overcome.</p>
<p>So fought they in the Wolfing meadow in the fifth hour after high-noon,
and neither yielded to the other: but while these things were a-doing,
men laid Thiodolf adown aloof from the battle under a doddered oak half
a furlong from where the fight was a-doing, round whose bole clung flocks
of wool from the sheep that drew around it in the hot summer-tide and
rubbed themselves against it, and the ground was trodden bare of grass
round the bole, and close to the trunk was worn into a kind of trench. 
There then they laid Thiodolf, and they wondered that no blood came
from him, and that there was no sign of a shot-weapon in his body.</p>
<p>But as for him, when he fell, all memory of the battle and what had
gone before it faded from his mind, and he passed into sweet and pleasant
dreams wherein he was a lad again in the days before he had fought with
the three Hun-Kings in the hazelled field.  And in these dreams
he was doing after the manner of young lads, sporting in the meadows,
backing unbroken colts, swimming in the river, going a-hunting with
the elder carles.  And especially he deemed that he was in the
company of one old man who had taught him both wood-craft and the handling
of weapons: and fair at first was his dream of his doings with this
man; he was with him in the forge smithying a sword-blade, and hammering
into its steel the thin golden wires; and fishing with an angle along
with him by the eddies of Mirkwood-water; and sitting with him in an
ingle of the Hall, the old man telling a tale of an ancient warrior
of the Wolfings hight Thiodolf also: then suddenly and without going
there, they were in a little clearing of the woods resting after hunting,
a roe-deer with an arrow in her lying at their feet, and the old man
was talking, and telling Thiodolf in what wise it was best to go about
to get the wind of a hart; but all the while there was going on the
thunder of a great gale of wind through the woodland boughs, even as
the drone of a bag-pipe cleaves to the tune.  Presently Thiodolf
arose and would go about his hunting again, and stooped to take up his
spear, and even therewith the old man’s speech stayed, and Thiodolf
looked up, and lo, his face was white like stone, and he touched him,
and he was hard as flint, and like the image of an ancient god as to
his face and hands, though the wind stirred his hair and his raiment,
as they did before.  Therewith a great pang smote Thiodolf in his
dream, and he felt as if he also were stiffening into stone, and he
strove and struggled, and lo, the wild-wood was gone, and a white light
empty of all vision was before him, and as he moved his head this became
the Wolfing meadow, as he had known it so long, and thereat a soft pleasure
and joy took hold of him, till again he looked, and saw there no longer
the kine and sheep, and the herd-women tending them, but the rush and
turmoil of that fierce battle, the confused thundering noise of which
was going up to the heavens; for indeed he was now fully awake again.</p>
<p>So he stood up and looked about; and around him was a ring of the
sorrowful faces of the warriors, who had deemed that he was hurt deadly,
though no hurt could they find upon him.  But the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk lay upon the ground beside him; for they had taken it off him
to look for his hurts.</p>
<p>So he looked into their faces and said: “What aileth you, ye
men?  I am alive and unhurt; what hath betided?”</p>
<p>And one said: “Art thou verily alive, or a man come back from
the dead?  We saw thee fall as thou wentest leading us against
the foe as if thou hadst been smitten by a thunder-bolt, and we deemed
thee dead or grievously hurt.  Now the carles are fighting stoutly,
and all is well since thou livest yet.”</p>
<p>So he said: “Give me the point and edges that I know, that
I may smite myself therewith and not the foemen; for I have feared and
blenched from the battle.”</p>
<p>Said an old warrior: “If that be so, Thiodolf, wilt thou blench
twice?  Is not once enough?  Now let us go back to the hard
handplay, and if thou wilt, smite thyself after the battle, when we
have once more had a man’s help of thee.”</p>
<p>Therewith he held out Throng-plough to him by the point, and Thiodolf
took hold of the hilts and handled it and said: “Let us hasten,
while the Gods will have it so, and while they are still suffering me
to strike a stroke for the kindred.”</p>
<p>And therewith he brandished Throng-plough, and went forth toward
the battle, and the heart grew hot within him, and the joy of waking
life came back to him, the joy which but erewhile he had given to a
mere dream.</p>
<p>But the old man who had rebuked him stooped down and lifted the Hauberk
from the ground, and cried out after him, “O Thiodolf, and wilt
thou go naked into so strong a fight? and thou with this so goodly sword-rampart?”</p>
<p>Thiodolf stayed a moment, and even therewith they looked, and lo!
the Romans giving back before the Goths and the Goths following up the
chase, but slowly and steadily.  Then Thiodolf heeded nothing save
the battle, but ran forward hastily, and those warriors followed him,
the old man last of all holding the Hauberk in his hand, and muttering:</p>
<blockquote><p>“So fares hot blood to the glooming and the world
beneath the grass;<br />
And the fruit of the Wolfings’ orchard in a flash from the world
must pass.<br />
Men say that the tree shall blossom in the garden of the folk,<br />
And the new twig thrust him forward from the place where the old one
broke,<br />
And all be well as aforetime: but old and old I grow,<br />
And I doubt me if such another the folk to come shall know.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And he still hurried forward as fast as his old body might go, so
that he might wrap the safeguard of the Hauberk round Thiodolf’s
body.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXIV—THE GOTHS ARE OVERTHROWN BY THE ROMANS</h2>
<p>Now rose up a mighty shout when Thiodolf came back to the battle
of the kindreds, for many thought he had been slain; and they gathered
round about him, and cried out to him joyously out of their hearts of
good-fellowship, and the old man who had rebuked Thiodolf, and who was
Jorund of the Wolfings, came up to him and reached out to him the Hauberk,
and he did it on scarce heeding; for all his heart and soul was turned
toward the battle of the Romans and what they were a-doing; and he saw
that they were falling back in good order, as men out-numbered, but
undismayed.  So he gathered all his men together and ordered them
afresh; for they were somewhat disarrayed with the fray and the chase:
and now he no longer ordered them in the wedge array, but in a line
here three deep, here five deep, or more, for the foes were hard at
hand, and outnumbered, and so far overcome, that he and all men deemed
it a little matter to give these their last overthrow, and then onward
to Wolf-stead to storm on what was left there and purge the house of
the foemen.  Howbeit Thiodolf bethought him that succour might
come to the Romans from their main-battle, as they needed not many men
there, since there was nought to fear behind them: but the thought was
dim within him, for once more since he had gotten the Hauberk on him
the earth was wavering and dream-like: he looked about him, and nowise
was he as in past days of battle when he saw nought but the foe before
him, and hoped for nothing save the victory.  But now indeed the
Wood-Sun seemed to him to be beside him, and not against his will, as
one besetting and hindering him, but as though his own longing had drawn
her thither and would not let her depart; and whiles it seemed to him
that her beauty was clearer to be seen than the bodies of the warriors
round about him.  For the rest he seemed to be in a dream indeed,
and, as men do in dreams, to be for ever striving to be doing something
of more moment than anything which he did, but which he must ever leave
undone.  And as the dream gathered and thickened about him the
foe before him changed to his eyes, and seemed no longer the stern brown-skinned
smooth-faced men under their crested iron helms with their iron-covered
shields before them, but rather, big-headed men, small of stature, long-bearded,
swart, crooked of body, exceeding foul of aspect.  And he looked
on and did nothing for a while, and his head whirled as though he had
been grievously smitten.</p>
<p>Thus tarried the kindreds awhile, and they were bewildered and their
hearts fell because Thiodolf did not fly on the foemen like a falcon
on the quarry, as his wont was.  But as for the Romans, they had
now stayed, and were facing their foes again, and that on a vantage-ground,
since the field sloped up toward the Wolfing dwelling; and they gathered
heart when they saw that the Goths tarried and forbore them.  But
the sun was sinking, and the evening was hard at hand.</p>
<p>So at last Thiodolf led forward with Throng-plough held aloft in
his right hand; but his left hand he held out by his side, as though
he were leading someone along.  And as he went, he muttered: “When
will these accursed sons of the nether earth leave the way clear to
us, that we may be alone and take pleasure each in each amidst of the
flowers and the sun?”</p>
<p>Now as the two hosts drew near to one another, again came the sound
of trumpets afar off, and men knew that this would be succour coming
to the Romans from their main-battle, and the Romans thereon shouted
for joy, and the host of the kindreds might no longer forbear, but rushed
on fiercely against them; and for Thiodolf it was now come to this,
that so entangled was he in his dream that he rather went with his men
than led them.  Yet had he Throng-plough in his right hand, and
he muttered in his beard as he went, “Smite before! smite behind!
and smite on the right hand! but never on the left!”</p>
<p>Thus then they met, and as before, neither might the Goths sweep
the Romans away, nor the Romans break the Goths into flight; yet were
many of the kindred anxious and troubled, since they knew that aid was
coming to the Romans, and they heard the trumpets sounding nearer and
more joyous; and at last, as the men of the kindreds were growing a-wearied
with fighting, they heard those horns as it were in their very ears,
and the thunder of the tramp of footmen, and they knew that a fresh
host of men was upon them; then those they had been fighting with opened
before them, falling aside to the right and the left, and the fresh
men passing between them, fell on the Goths like the waters of a river
when a sluice-gate is opened.  They came on in very good order,
never breaking their ranks, but swift withal, smiting and pushing before
them, and so brake through the array of the Goth-folk, and drave them
this way and that way down the slopes.</p>
<p>Yet still fought the warriors of the kindred most valiantly, making
stand and facing the foe again and again in knots of a score or two
score, or maybe ten score; and though many a man was slain, yet scarce
any one before he had slain or hurt a Roman; and some there were, and
they the oldest, who fought as if they and the few about them were all
the host that was left to the folk, and heeded not that others were
driven back, or that the Romans gathered about them, cutting them off
from all succour and aid, but went on smiting till they were felled
with many strokes.</p>
<p>Howbeit the array of the Goths was broken and many were slain, and
perforce they must give back, and it seemed as if they would be driven
into the river and all be lost.</p>
<p>But for Thiodolf, this befell him: that at first, when those fresh
men fell on, he seemed, as it were, to wake unto himself again, and
he cried aloud the cry of the Wolf, and thrust into the thickest of
the fray, and slew many and was hurt of none, and for a moment of time
there was an empty space round about him, such fear he cast even into
the valiant hearts of the foemen.  But those who had time to see
him as they stood by him noted that he was as pale as a dead man, and
his eyes set and staring; and so of a sudden, while he stood thus threatening
the ring of doubtful foemen, the weakness took him again, Throng-plough
tumbled from his hand, and he fell to earth as one dead.</p>
<p>Then of those who saw him some deemed that he had been striving against
some secret hurt till he could do no more; and some that there was a
curse abroad that had fallen upon him and upon all the kindreds of the
Mark; some thought him dead and some swooning.  But, dead or alive,
the warriors would not leave their War-duke among the foemen, so they
lifted him, and gathered about him a goodly band that held its own against
all comers, and fought through the turmoil stoutly and steadily; and
others gathered to them, till they began to be something like a host
again, and the Romans might not break them into knots of desperate men
any more.</p>
<p>Thus they fought their way, Arinbiorn of the Bearings leading them
now, with a mind to make a stand for life or death on some vantage-ground;
and so, often turning upon the Romans, they came in array ever growing
more solid to the rising ground looking one way over the ford and the
other to the slopes where the battle had just been.  There they
faced the foe as men who may be slain, but will be driven no further;
and what bowmen they had got spread out from their flanks and shot on
the Romans, who had with them no light-armed, or slingers or bowmen,
for they had left them at Wolf-stead.  So the Romans stood a while,
and gave breathing-space to the Markmen, which indeed was the saving
of them: for if they had fallen on hotly and held to it steadily, it
is like that they would have passed over all the bodies of the Markmen:
for these had lost their leader, either slain, as some thought, or,
as others thought, banned from leadership by the Gods; and their host
was heavy-hearted; and though it is like that they would have stood
there till each had fallen over other, yet was their hope grown dim,
and the whole folk brought to a perilous and fearful pass, for if these
were slain or scattered there were no more but they, and nought between
fire and the sword and the people of the Mark.</p>
<p>But once again the faint-heart folly of the Roman Captain saved his
foes: for whereas he once thought that the whole power of the Markmen
lay in Otter and his company, and deemed them too little to meddle with,
so now he ran his head into the other hedge, and deemed that Thiodolf’s
company was but a part of the succour that was at hand for the Goths,
and that they were over-big for him to meddle with.</p>
<p>True it is also that now dark night was coming on, and the land was
unknown to the Romans, who moreover trusted not wholly to the dastards
of the Goths who were their guides and scouts: furthermore the wood
was at hand, and they knew not what it held; and with all this and above
it all, it is to be said that over them also had fallen a dread of some
doom anear; for those habitations amidst of the wild-woods were terrible
to them as they were dear to the Goths; and the Gods of their foemen
seemed to be lying in wait to fall upon them, even if they should slay
every man of the kindreds.</p>
<p>So now having driven back the Goths to that height over the ford,
which indeed was no stronghold, no mountain, scarce a hill even, nought
but a gentle swelling of the earth, they forebore them; and raising
up the whoop of victory drew slowly aback, picking up their own dead
and wounded, and slaying the wounded Markmen.  They had with them
also some few captives, but not many; for the fighting had been to the
death between man and man on the Wolfing Meadow.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXV—THE HOST OF THE MARKMEN COMETH INTO THE WILD-WOOD</h2>
<p>Yet though the Romans were gone, the Goth-folk were very hard bested. 
They had been overthrown, not sorely maybe if they had been in an alien
land, and free to come and go as they would; yet sorely as things were,
because the foeman was sitting in their own House, and they must needs
drag him out of it or perish: and to many the days seemed evil, and
the Gods fighting against them, and both the Wolfings and the other
kindreds bethought them of the Hall-Sun and her wisdom and longed to
hear of tidings concerning her.</p>
<p>But now the word ran through the host that Thiodolf was certainly
not slain.  Slowly he had come to himself, and yet was not himself,
for he sat among his men gloomy and silent, clean contrary to his wont;
for hitherto he had been a merry man, and a joyous fellow.</p>
<p>Amidst of the ridge whereon the Markmen now abode, there was a ring
made of the chief warriors and captains and wise men who had not been
slain or grievously hurt in the fray, and amidst them all sat Thiodolf
on the ground, his chin sunken on his breast, looking more like a captive
than the leader of a host amidst of his men; and that the more as his
scabbard was empty; for when Throng-plough had fallen from his hand,
it had been trodden under foot, and lost in the turmoil.  There
he sat, and the others in that ring of men looked sadly upon him; such
as Arinbiorn of the Bearings, and Wolfkettle and Thorolf of his own
House, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and Geirbald the Shielding, the
messenger of the woods, and Fox who had seen the Roman Garth, and many
others.  It was night now, and men had lighted fires about the
host, for they said that the Romans knew where to find them if they
listed to seek; and about those fires were men eating and drinking what
they might come at, but amidmost of that ring was the biggest fire,
and men turned them towards it for counsel and help, for elsewhere none
said, “What do we?” for they were heavy-hearted and redeless,
since the Gods had taken the victory out of their hands just when they
seemed at point to win it.</p>
<p>But amidst all this there was a little stir outside that biggest
ring, and men parted, and through them came a swain amongst the chiefs,
and said, “Who will lead me to the War-duke?”</p>
<p>Thiodolf, who was close beside the lad, answered never a word; but
Arinbiorn said; “This man here sitting is the War-duke: speak
to him, for he may hearken to thee: but first who art thou?”</p>
<p>Said the lad; “My name is Ali the son of Grey, and I come with
a message from the Hall-Sun and the stay-at-homes who are in the Woodland.”</p>
<p>Now when he named the Hall-Sun Thiodolf started and looked up, and
turning to his left-hand said, “And what sayeth thy daughter?”</p>
<p>Men did not heed that he said <i>thy</i> daughter, but deemed that
he said <i>my</i> daughter, since he was wont as her would-be foster-father
to call her so.  But Ali spake:</p>
<p>“War-duke and ye chieftains, thus saith the Hall-Sun: ‘I
know that by this time Otter hath been slain and many another, and ye
have been overthrown and chased by the Romans, and that now there is
little counsel in you except to abide the foe where ye are and there
to die valiantly.  But now do my bidding and as I am bidden, and
then whosoever dieth or liveth, the kindreds shall vanquish that they
may live and grow greater.  Do ye thus: the Romans think no otherwise
but to find you here to-morrow or else departed across the water as
broken men, and they will fall upon you with their whole host, and then
make a war-garth after their manner at Wolf-stead and carry fire and
the sword and the chains of thralldom into every House of the Mark. 
Now therefore fetch a compass and come into the wood on the north-west
of the houses and make your way to the Thing-stead of the Mid-mark. 
For who knoweth but that to-morrow we may fall upon these thieves again? 
Of this shall ye hear more when we may speak together and take counsel
face to face; for we stay-at-homes know somewhat closely of the ways
of these Romans.  Haste then! let not the grass grow over your
feet!</p>
<p>“‘But to thee, Thiodolf, have I a word to say when we
meet; for I wot that as now thou canst not hearken to my word.’ 
Thus saith the Hall-Sun.”</p>
<p>“Wilt thou speak, War-duke?” said Arinbiorn.  But
Thiodolf shook his head.  Then said Arinbiorn; “Shall I speak
for thee?” and Thiodolf nodded yea.  Then said Arinbiorn:
“Ali son of Grey, art thou going back to her that sent thee?”</p>
<p>“Yea,” said the lad, “but in your company, for
ye will be coming straightway and I know all the ways closely; and there
is need for a guide through the dark night as ye will see presently.”</p>
<p>Then stood up Arinbiorn and said: “Chiefs and captains, go
ye speedily and array your men for departure: bid them leave all the
fires burning and come their ways as silently as maybe; for now will
we wend this same hour before moonrise into the Wild-wood and the Thing-stead
of Mid-mark; thus saith the War-duke.”</p>
<p>But when they were gone, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf were left alone,
Thiodolf lifted up his head and spake slowly and painfully:</p>
<p>“Arinbiorn, I thank thee: and thou dost well to lead this folk:
since as for me that is somewhat that weighs me down, and I know not
whether it be life or death; therefore I may no longer be your captain,
for twice now have I blenched from the battle.  Yet command me,
and I will obey, set a sword in my hand and I will smite, till the God
snatches it out of my hand, as he did Throng-plough to-day.”</p>
<p>“And that is well,” said Arinbiorn, “it may be
that ye shall meet that God to-morrow, and heave up sword against him,
and either overcome him or go to thy fathers a proud and valiant man.”</p>
<p>So they spake, and Thiodolf stood up and seemed of better cheer. 
But presently the whole host was afoot, and they went their ways warily
with little noise, and wound little by little about the Wolfing meadow
and about the acres towards the wood at the back of the Houses; and
they met nothing by the way except an out-guard of the Romans, whom
they slew there nigh silently, and bore away their bodies, twelve in
number, lest the Romans when they sent to change the guard, should find
the slain and have an inkling of the way the Goths were gone; but now
they deemed that the Romans might think their guard fled, or perchance
that they had been carried away by the Gods of the woodland folk.</p>
<p>So came they into the wood, and Arinbiorn and the chiefs were for
striking the All-men’s road to the Thing-stead and so coming thither;
but the lad Ali when he heard it laughed and said:</p>
<p>“If ye would sleep to-night ye shall wend another way. 
For the Hall-Sun hath had us at work cumbering it against the foe with
great trees felled with limbs, branches, and all.  And indeed ye
shall find the Thing-stead fenced like a castle, and the in-gate hard
to find; yet will I bring you thither.”</p>
<p>So did he without delay, and presently they came anigh the Thing-stead;
and the place was fenced cunningly, so that if men would enter they
must go by a narrow way that had a fence of tree-trunks on each side
wending inward like the maze in a pleasance.  Thereby now wended
the host all afoot, since it was a holy place and no beast must set
foot therein, so that the horses were left without it: so slowly and
right quietly once more they came into the garth of the Thing-stead;
and lo, a many folk there, of the Wolfings and the Bearings and other
kindreds, who had gathered thereto; and albeit these were not warriors
in their prime, yet were there none save the young children and the
weaker of the women but had weapons of some kind; and they were well
ordered, standing or sitting in ranks like folk awaiting battle. 
There were booths of boughs and rushes set up for shelter of the feebler
women and the old men and children along the edges of the fence, for
the Hall-Sun had bidden them keep the space clear round about the Doom-ring
and the Hill-of-Speech as if for a mighty folk-mote, so that the warriors
might have room to muster there and order their array.  There were
some cooking-fires lighted about the aforesaid booths, but neither many
nor great, and they were screened with wattle from the side that lay
toward the Romans; for the Hall-Sun would not that they should hold
up lanterns for their foemen to find them by.  Little noise there
was in that stronghold, moreover, for the hearts of all who knew their
right hands from their left were set on battle and the destruction of
the foe that would destroy the kindreds.</p>
<p>Anigh the Speech-Hill, on its eastern side, had the bole of a slender
beech tree been set up, and at the top of it a cross-beam was nailed
on, and therefrom hung the wondrous lamp, the Hall-Sun, glimmering from
on high, and though its light was but a glimmer amongst the mighty wood,
yet was it also screened on three sides from the sight of the chance
wanderer by wings of thin plank.  But beneath her namesake as beforetime
in the Hall sat the Hall-Sun, the maiden, on a heap of faggots, and
she was wrapped in a dark blue cloak from under which gleamed the folds
of the fair golden-broidered gown she was wont to wear at folk-motes,
and her right hand rested on a naked sword that lay across her knees:
beside her sat the old man Sorli, the Wise in War, and about her were
slim lads and sturdy maidens and old carles of the thralls or freedmen
ready to bear the commands that came from her mouth; for she and Sorli
were the captains of the stay-at-homes.</p>
<p>Now came Thiodolf and Arinbiorn and other leaders into the ring of
men before her, and she greeted them kindly and said:</p>
<p>“Hail, Sons of Tyr! now that I behold you again it seemeth
to me as if all were already won: the time of waiting hath been weary,
and we have borne the burden of fear every day from morn till even,
and in the waking hour we presently remembered it.  But now ye
are come, even if this Thing-stead were lighted by the flames of the
Wolfing Roof instead of by these moonbeams; even if we had to begin
again and seek new dwellings, and another water and other meadows, yet
great should grow the kindreds of the Men who have dwelt in the Mark,
and nought should overshadow them: and though the beasts and the Romans
were dwelling in their old places, yet should these kindreds make new
clearings in the Wild-wood; and they with their deeds should cause other
waters to be famous, that as yet have known no deeds of man; and they
should compel the Earth to bear increase round about their dwelling-places
for the welfare of the kindreds.  O Sons of Tyr, friendly are your
faces, and undismayed, and the Terror of the Nations has not made you
afraid any more than would the onrush of the bisons that feed adown
the grass hills.  Happy is the eve, O children of the Goths, yet
shall to-morrow morn be happier.”</p>
<p>Many heard what she spake, and a murmur of joy ran through the ranks
of men: for they deemed her words to forecast victory.</p>
<p>And now amidst her speaking, the moon, which had arisen on Mid-mark,
when the host first entered into the wood, had overtopped the tall trees
that stood like a green wall round about the Thing-stead, and shone
down on that assembly, and flashed coldly back from the arms of the
warriors.  And the Hall-Sun cast off her dark blue cloak and stood
up in her golden-broidered raiment, which flashed back the grey light
like as it had been an icicle hanging from the roof of some hall in
the midnight of Yule, when the feast is high within, and without the
world is silent with the night of the ten-weeks’ frost.</p>
<p>Then she spake again: “O War-duke, thy mouth is silent; speak
to this warrior of the Bearings that he bid the host what to do; for
wise are ye both, and dear are the minutes of this night and should
not be wasted; since they bring about the salvation of the Wolfings,
and the vengeance of the Bearings, and the hope renewed of all the kindreds.”</p>
<p>Then Thiodolf abode a while with his head down cast; his bosom heaved,
and he set his left hand to his swordless scabbard, and his right to
his throat, as though he were sore troubled with something he might
not tell of: but at last he lifted up his head and spoke to Arinbiorn,
but slowly and painfully, as he had spoken before:</p>
<p>“Chief of the Bearings, go up on to the Hill of Speech, and
speak to the folk out of thy wisdom, and let them know that to-morrow
early before the sun-rising those that may, and are not bound by the
Gods against it, shall do deeds according to their might, and win rest
for themselves, and new days of deeds for the kindreds.”</p>
<p>Therewith he ceased, and let his head fall again, and the Hall-Sun
looked at him askance.  But Arinbiorn clomb the Speech-Hill and
said:</p>
<p>“Men of the kindreds, it is now a few days since we first met
the Romans and fought with them; and whiles we have had the better,
and whiles the worse in our dealings, as oft in war befalleth: for they
are men, and we no less than men.  But now look to it what ye will
do; for we may no longer endure these outlanders in our houses, and
we must either die or get our own again: and that is not merely a few
wares stored up for use, nor a few head of neat, nor certain timbers
piled up into a dwelling, but the life we have made in the land we have
made.  I show you no choice, for no choice there is.  Here
are we bare of everything in the wild-wood: for the most part our children
are crying for us at home, our wives are longing for us in our houses,
and if we come not to them in kindness, the Romans shall come to them
in grimness.  Down yonder in the plain, moreover, is our wain-burg
slowly drawing near to us, and with it is much livelihood of ours, which
is a little thing, for we may get more; but also there are our banners
of battle and the tokens of the kindred, which is a great thing. 
And between all this and us there lieth but little; nought but a band
of valiant men, and a few swords and spears, and a few wounds, and the
hope of death amidst the praise of the people; and this ye have to set
out to wend across within two or three hours.  I will not ask if
ye will do so, for I wot that even so ye will; therefore when I have
done, shout not, nor clash sword on shield, for we are no great way
off that house of ours wherein dwells the foe that would destroy us. 
Let each man rest as he may, and sleep if he may with his war-gear on
him and his weapons by his side, and when he is next awakened by the
captains and the leaders of hundreds and scores, let him not think that
it is night, but let him betake himself to his place among his kindred
and be ready to go through the wood with as little noise as may be. 
Now all is said that the War-duke would have me say, and to-morrow shall
those see him who are foremost in falling upon the foemen, for he longeth
sorely for his seat on the days of the Wolfing Hall.”</p>
<p>So he spake, and even as he bade them, they made no sound save a
joyous murmur; and straightway the more part of them betook themselves
to sleep as men who must busy themselves about a weighty matter; for
they were wise in the ways of war.  So sank all the host to the
ground save those who were appointed as watchers of the night, and Arinbiorn
and Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun; they three yet stood together; and Arinbiorn
said:</p>
<p>“Now it seems to me not so much as if we had vanquished the
foe and were safe and at rest, but rather as if we had no foemen and
never have had.  Deep peace is on me, though hitherto I have been
deemed a wrathful man, and it is to me as if the kindreds that I love
had filled the whole earth, and left no room for foemen: even so it
may really be one day.  To-night it is well, yet to-morrow it shall
be better.  What thine errand may be, Thiodolf, I scarce know;
for something hath changed in thee, and thou art become strange to us. 
But as for mine errand, I will tell it thee; it is that I am seeking
Otter of the Laxings, my friend and fellow, whose wisdom my foolishness
drave under the point and edge of the Romans, so that he is no longer
here; I am seeking him, and to-morrow I think I shall find him, for
he hath not had time to travel far, and we shall be blithe and merry
together.  And now will I sleep; for I have bidden the watchers
awaken me if any need be.  Sleep thou also, Thiodolf! and wake
up thine old self when the moon is low.”  Therewith he laid
himself down under the lee of the pile of faggots, and was presently
asleep.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVI—THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN</h2>
<p>Now were Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun left alone together standing by
the Speech-Hill; and the moon was risen high in the heavens above the
tree-tops of the wild-wood.  Thiodolf scarce stirred, and he still
held his head bent down as one lost in thought.</p>
<p>Then said the Hall-Sun, speaking softly amidst the hush of the camp:</p>
<p>“I have said that the minutes of this night are dear, and they
are passing swiftly; and it may be that thou wilt have much to say and
to do before the host is astir with the dawning.  So come thou
with me a little way, that thou mayst hear of new tidings, and think
what were best to do amidst them.”</p>
<p>And without more ado she took him by the hand and led him forth,
and he went as he was led, not saying a word.  They passed out
of the camp into the wood, none hindering, and went a long way where
under the beech-leaves there was but a glimmer of the moonlight, and
presently Thiodolf’s feet went as it were of themselves; for they
had hit a path that he knew well and over-well.</p>
<p>So came they to that little wood-lawn where first in this tale Thiodolf
met the Wood-Sun; and the stone seat there was not empty now any more
than it was then; for thereon sat the Wood-Sun, clad once more in her
glittering raiment.  Her head was sunken down, her face hidden
by her hands; neither did she look up when she heard their feet on the
grass, for she knew who they were.</p>
<p>Thiodolf lingered not; for a moment it was to him as if all that
past time had never been, and its battles and hurry and hopes and fears
but mere shows, and the unspoken words of a dream.  He went straight
up to her and sat down by her side and put his arm about her shoulders,
and strove to take her hand to caress it; but she moved but little,
and it was as if she heeded him not.  And the Hall-Sun stood before
them and looked at them for a little while; and then she fell to speech;
but at the first sound of her voice, it seemed that the Wood-Sun trembled,
but still she hid her face.  Said the Hall-Sun:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Two griefs I see before me in mighty hearts grown
great;<br />
And to change both these into gladness out-goes the power of fate.<br />
Yet I, a lonely maiden, have might to vanquish one<br />
Till it melt as the mist of the morning before the summer sun.<br />
O Wood-Sun, thou hast borne me, and I were fain indeed<br />
To give thee back thy gladness; but thou com’st of the Godhead’s
seed,<br />
And herein my might avails not; because I can but show<br />
Unto these wedded sorrows the truth that the heart should know<br />
Ere the will hath wielded the hand; and for thee, I can tell thee nought<br />
That thou hast not known this long while; thy will and thine hand have
wrought,<br />
And the man that thou lovest shall live in despite of Gods and of men,<br />
If yet thy will endureth.  But what shall it profit thee then<br />
That after the fashion of Godhead thou hast gotten thee a thrall<br />
To be thine and never another’s, whatso in the world may befall?<br />
Lo! yesterday this was a man, and to-morrow it might have been<br />
The very joy of the people, though never again it were seen;<br />
Yet a part of all they hoped for through all the lapse of years,<br />
To make their laughter happy and dull the sting of tears;<br />
To quicken all remembrance of deeds that never die,<br />
And death that maketh eager to live as the days go by.<br />
Yea, many a deed had he done as he lay in the dark of the mound;<br />
As the seed-wheat plotteth of spring, laid under the face of the ground<br />
That the foot of the husbandman treadeth, that the wind of the winter
wears,<br />
That the turbid cold flood hideth from the constant hope of the years.<br />
This man that should leave in his death his life unto many an one<br />
Wilt thou make him a God of the fearful who live lone under the sun?<br />
And then shalt thou have what thou wouldedst when amidst of the hazelled
field<br />
Thou kissed’st the mouth of the helper, and the hand of the people’s
shield,<br />
Shalt thou have the thing that thou wouldedst when thou broughtest me
to birth,<br />
And I, the soul of the Wolfings, began to look on earth?<br />
Wilt thou play the God, O mother, and make a man anew,<br />
A joyless thing and a fearful?  Then I betwixt you two,<br />
’Twixt your longing and your sorrow will cast the sundering word,<br />
And tell out all the story of that rampart of the sword!<br />
I shall bid my mighty father make choice of death in life,<br />
Or life in death victorious and the crownèd end of strife.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Ere she had ended, the Wood-Sun let her hands fall down, and showed
her face, which for all its unpaled beauty looked wearied and anxious;
and she took Thiodolf’s hand in hers, while she looked with eyes
of love upon the Hall-Sun, and Thiodolf laid his cheek to her cheek,
and though he smiled not, yet he seemed as one who is happy.  At
last the Wood-Sun spoke and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Thou sayest sooth, O daughter: I am no God of
might,<br />
Yet I am of their race, and I think with their thoughts and see with
their sight,<br />
And the threat of the doom did I know of, and yet spared not to lie:<br />
For I thought that the fate foreboded might touch and pass us by,<br />
As the sword that heweth the war-helm and cleaveth a cantle away,<br />
And the cunning smith shall mend it and it goeth again to the fray;<br />
If my hand might have held for a moment, yea, even against his will,<br />
The life of my belovèd!  But Weird is the master still:<br />
And this man’s love of my body and his love of the ancient kin<br />
Were matters o’er mighty to deal with and the game withal to win.<br />
Woe’s me for the waning of all things, and my hope that needs
must fade<br />
As the fruitless sun of summer on the waste where nought is made!<br />
And now farewell, O daughter, thou mayst not see the kiss<br />
Of the hapless and the death-doomed when I have told of this;<br />
Yet once again shalt thou see him, though I no more again,<br />
Fair with the joy that hopeth and dieth not in vain.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then came the Hall-Sun close to her, and knelt down by her, and laid
her head upon her knees and wept for love of her mother, who kissed
her oft and caressed her; and Thiodolf’s hand strayed, as it were,
on to his daughter’s head, and he looked kindly on her, though
scarce now as if he knew her.  Then she arose when she had kissed
her mother once more, and went her ways from that wood-lawn into the
woods again, and so to the Folk-mote of her people.</p>
<p>But when those twain were all alone again, the Wood-Sun spoke: “O
Thiodolf canst thou hear me and understand?”</p>
<p>“Yea,” he said, “when thou speakest of certain
matters, as of our love together, and of our daughter that came of our
love.”</p>
<p>“Thiodolf,” she said, “How long shall our love
last?”</p>
<p>“As long as our life,” he said.</p>
<p>“And if thou diest to-day, where then shall our love be?”
said the Wood-Sun.</p>
<p>He said, “I must now say, I wot not; though time was I had
said, It shall abide with the soul of the Wolfing Kindred.”</p>
<p>She said: “And when that soul dieth, and the kindred is no
more?”</p>
<p>“Time agone,” quoth he, “I had said, it shall abide
with the Kindreds of the Earth; but now again I say, I wot not.”</p>
<p>“Will the Earth hide it,” said she, “when thou
diest and art borne to mound?”</p>
<p>“Even so didst thou say when we spake together that other night,”
said he; “and now I may say nought against thy word.”</p>
<p>“Art thou happy, O Folk-Wolf?” she said.</p>
<p>“Why dost thou ask me?” said he; “I know not; we
were sundered and I longed for thee; thou art here; it is enough.”</p>
<p>“And the people of thy Kindred?” she said, “dost
thou not long for them?”</p>
<p>He said; “Didst thou not say that I was not of them? 
Yet were they my friends, and needed me, and I loved them: but by this
evening they will need me no more, or but little; for they will be victorious
over their foes: so hath the Hall-Sun foretold.  What then! shall
I take all from thee to give little to them?”</p>
<p>“Thou art wise,” she said; “Wilt thou go to battle
to-day?”</p>
<p>“So it seemeth,” said he.</p>
<p>She said: “And wilt thou bear the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk? for
if thou dost, thou wilt live, and if thou dost not, thou wilt die.”</p>
<p>“I will bear it,” said he, “that I may live to
love thee.”</p>
<p>“Thinkest thou that any evil goes with it?” said she.</p>
<p>There came into his face a flash of his ancient boldness as he answered:
“So it seemed to me yesterday, when I fought clad in it the first
time; and I fell unsmitten on the meadow, and was shamed, and would
have slain myself but for thee.  And yet it is not so that any
evil goes with it; for thou thyself didst say that past night that there
was no evil weird in it.”</p>
<p>She said: “How then if I lied that night?”</p>
<p>Said he; “It is the wont of the Gods to lie, and be unashamed,
and men-folk must bear with it.”</p>
<p>“Ah! how wise thou art!” she said; and was silent for
a while, and drew away from him a little, and clasped her hands together
and wrung them for grief and anger.  Then she grew calm again,
and said:</p>
<p>“Wouldest thou die at my bidding?”</p>
<p>“Yea,” said he, “not because thou art of the Gods,
but because thou hast become a woman to me, and I love thee.”</p>
<p>Then was she silent some while, and at last she said, “Thiodolf,
wilt thou do off the Hauberk if I bid thee?”</p>
<p>“Yea, yea,” said he, “and let us depart from the
Wolfings, and their strife, for they need us not.”</p>
<p>She was silent once more for a longer while still, and at last she
said in a cold voice; “Thiodolf, I bid thee arise, and put off
the Hauberk from thee.”</p>
<p>He looked at her wondering, not at her words, but at the voice wherewith
she spake them; but he arose from the stone nevertheless, and stood
stark in the moonlight; he set his hand to the collar of the war-coat,
and undid its clasps, which were of gold and blue stones, and presently
he did the coat from off him and let it slide to the ground where it
lay in a little grey heap that looked but a handful.  Then he sat
down on the stone again, and took her hand and kissed her and caressed
her fondly, and she him again, and they spake no word for a while: but
at the last he spake in measure and rhyme in a low voice, but so sweet
and clear that it might have been heard far in the hush of the last
hour of the night:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Dear now are this dawn-dusk’s moments as
is the last of the light<br />
When the foemen’s ranks are wavering, and the victory feareth
night;<br />
And of all the time I have loved thee of these am I most fain,<br />
When I know not what shall betide me, nor what shall be my gain.<br />
But dear as they are, they are waning, and at last the time is come<br />
When no more shall I behold thee till I wend to Odin’s Home.<br />
Now is the time so little that once hath been so long<br />
That I fain would ask thee pardon wherein I have done thee wrong,<br />
That thy longing might be softer, and thy love more sweet to have.<br />
But in nothing have I wronged thee, there is nought that I may crave.<br />
Strange too! as the minutes fail me, so do my speech-words fail,<br />
Yet strong is the joy within me for this hour that crowns the tale.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he clipped her and caressed her, and she spake nothing
for a while; and he said; “Thy face is fair and bright; art thou
not joyous of these minutes?”</p>
<p>She said: “Thy words are sweet; but they pierce my heart like
a sharp knife; for they tell me of thy death and the ending of our love.”</p>
<p>Said he; “I tell thee nothing, beloved, that thou hast not
known: is it not for this that we have met here once more?”</p>
<p>She answered after a while; “Yea, yea; yet mightest thou have
lived.”</p>
<p>He laughed, but not scornfully or bitterly and said:</p>
<p>“So thought I in time past: but hearken, beloved; If I fall
to-day, shall there not yet be a minute after the stroke hath fallen
on me, wherein I shall know that the day is won and see the foemen fleeing,
and wherein I shall once again deem I shall never die, whatever may
betide afterwards, and though the sword lieth deep in my breast? 
And shall I not see then and know that our love hath no end?”</p>
<p>Bitter grief was in her face as she heard him.  But she spake
and said: “Lo here the Hauberk which thou hast done off thee,
that thy breast might be the nearer to mine!  Wilt thou not wear
it in the fight for my sake?”</p>
<p>He knit his brows somewhat, and said:</p>
<p>“Nay, it may not be: true it is that thou saidest that no evil
weird went with it, but hearken!  Yesterday I bore it in the fight,
and ere I mingled with the foe, before I might give the token of onset,
a cloud came before my eyes and thick darkness wrapped me around, and
I fell to the earth unsmitten; and so was I borne out of the fight,
and evil dreams beset me of evil things, and the dwarfs that hate mankind. 
Then I came to myself, and the Hauberk was off me, and I rose up and
beheld the battle, that the kindreds were pressing on the foe, and I
thought not then of any past time, but of the minutes that were passing;
and I ran into the fight straightway: but one followed me with that
Hauberk, and I did it on, thinking of nought but the battle.  Fierce
then was the fray, yet I faltered in it; till the fresh men of the Romans
came in upon us and broke up our array.  Then my heart almost broke
within me, and I faltered no more, but rushed on as of old, and smote
great strokes all round about: no hurt I got, but once more came that
ugly mist over my eyes, and again I fell unsmitten, and they bore me
out of battle: then the men of our folk gave back and were overcome;
and when I awoke from my evil dreams, we had gotten away from the fight
and the Wolfing dwellings, and were on the mounds above the ford cowering
down like beaten men.  There then I sat shamed among the men who
had chosen me for their best man at the Holy Thing, and lo I was their
worst!  Then befell that which never till then had befallen me,
that life seemed empty and worthless and I longed to die and be done
with it, and but for the thought of thy love I had slain myself then
and there.</p>
<p>“Thereafter I went with the host to the assembly of the stay-at-homes
and fleers, and sat before the Hall-Sun our daughter, and said the words
which were put into my mouth.  But now must I tell thee a hard
and evil thing; that I loved them not, and was not of them, and outside
myself there was nothing: within me was the world and nought without
me.  Nay, as for thee, I was not sundered from thee, but thou wert
a part of me; whereas for the others, yea, even for our daughter, thine
and mine, they were but images and shows of men, and I longed to depart
from them, and to see thy body and to feel thine heart beating. 
And by then so evil was I grown that my very shame had fallen from me,
and my will to die: nay, I longed to live, thou and I, and death seemed
hateful to me, and the deeds before death vain and foolish.</p>
<p>“Where then was my glory and my happy life, and the hope of
the days fresh born every day, though never dying?  Where then
was life, and Thiodolf that once had lived?</p>
<p>“But now all is changed once more; I loved thee never so well
as now, and great is my grief that we must sunder, and the pain of farewell
wrings my heart.  Yet since I am once more Thiodolf the Mighty,
in my heart there is room for joy also.  Look at me, O Wood-Sun,
look at me, O beloved! tell me, am I not fair with the fairness of the
warrior and the helper of the folk?  Is not my voice kind, do not
my lips smile, and mine eyes shine?  See how steady is mine hand,
the friend of the folk!  For mine eyes are cleared again, and I
can see the kindreds as they are, and their desire of life and scorn
of death, and this is what they have made me myself.  Now therefore
shall they and I together earn the merry days to come, the winter hunting
and the spring sowing, the summer haysel, the ingathering of harvest,
the happy rest of midwinter, and Yuletide with the memory of the Fathers,
wedded to the hope of the days to be.  Well may they bid me help
them who have holpen me!  Well may they bid me die who have made
me live!</p>
<p>“For whereas thou sayest that I am not of their blood, nor
of their adoption, once more I heed it not.  For I have lived with
them, and eaten and drunken with them, and toiled with them, and led
them in battle and the place of wounds and slaughter; they are mine
and I am theirs; and through them am I of the whole earth, and all the
kindreds of it; yea, even of the foemen, whom this day the edges in
mine hand shall smite.</p>
<p>“Therefore I will bear the Hauberk no more in battle; and belike
my body but once more: so shall I have lived and death shall not have
undone me.</p>
<p>“Lo thou, is not this the Thiodolf whom thou hast loved? no
changeling of the Gods, but the man in whom men have trusted, the friend
of Earth, the giver of life, the vanquisher of death?”</p>
<p>And he cast himself upon her, and strained her to his bosom and kissed
her, and caressed her, and awoke the bitter-sweet joy within her, as
he cried out:</p>
<p>“O remember this, and this, when at last I am gone from thee!”</p>
<p>But when they sundered her face was bright, but the tears were on
it, and she said: “O Thiodolf, thou wert fain hadst thou done
a wrong to me so that I might forgive thee; now wilt thou forgive me
the wrong I have done thee?”</p>
<p>“Yea,” he said, “Even so would I do, were we both
to live, and how much more if this be the dawn of our sundering day! 
What hast thou done?”</p>
<p>She said: “I lied to thee concerning the Hauberk when I said
that no evil weird went with it: and this I did for the saving of thy
life.”</p>
<p>He laid his hand fondly on her head, and spake smiling: “Such
is the wont of the God-kin, because they know not the hearts of men. 
Tell me all the truth of it now at last.”</p>
<p>She said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Hear then the tale of the Hauberk and the truth
there is to tell:<br />
There was a maid of the God-kin, and she loved a man right well,<br />
Who unto the battle was wending; and she of her wisdom knew<br />
That thence to the folk-hall threshold should come back but a very few;<br />
And she feared for her love, for she doubted that of these he should
not be;<br />
So she wended the wilds lamenting, as I have lamented for thee;<br />
And many wise she pondered, how to bring her will to pass<br />
(E’en as I for thee have pondered), as her feet led over the grass,<br />
Till she lifted her eyes in the wild-wood, and lo! she stood before<br />
The Hall of the Hollow-places; and the Dwarf-lord stood in the door<br />
And held in his hand the Hauberk, whereon the hammer’s blow<br />
The last of all had been smitten, and the sword should be hammer now.<br />
Then the Dwarf beheld her fairness, and the wild-wood many-leaved<br />
Before his eyes was reeling at the hope his heart conceived;<br />
So sorely he longed for her body; and he laughed before her and cried,<br />
‘O Lady of the Disir, thou farest wandering wide<br />
Lamenting thy belovèd and the folk-mote of the spear,<br />
But if amidst of the battle this child of the hammer he bear<br />
He shall laugh at the foemen’s edges and come back to thy lily
breast<br />
And of all the days of his life-time shall his coming years be best.’<br />
Then she bowed adown her godhead and sore for the Hauberk she prayed;<br />
But his greedy eyes devoured her as he stood in the door and said;<br />
‘Come lie in mine arms!  Come hither, and we twain the night
to wake!<br />
And then as a gift of the morning the Hauberk shall ye take.’<br />
So she humbled herself before him, and entered into the cave,<br />
The dusky, the deep-gleaming, the gem-strewn golden grave.<br />
But he saw not her girdle loosened, or her bosom gleam on his love,<br />
For she set the sleep-thorn in him, that he saw, but might not move,<br />
Though the bitter salt tears burned him for the anguish of his greed;<br />
And she took the hammer’s offspring, her unearned morning meed,<br />
And went her ways from the rock-hall and was glad for her warrior’s
sake.<br />
But behind her dull speech followed, and the voice of the hollow spake:<br />
‘Thou hast left me bound in anguish, and hast gained thine heart’s
desire;<br />
Now I would that the dewy night-grass might be to thy feet as the fire,<br />
And shrivel thy raiment about thee, and leave thee bare to the flame,<br />
And no way but a fiery furnace for the road whereby ye came!<br />
But since the folk of God-home we may not slay nor smite,<br />
And that fool of the folk that thou lovest, thou hast saved in my despite,<br />
Take with thee, thief of God-home, this other word I say:<br />
Since the safeguard wrought in the ring-mail I may not do away<br />
I lay this curse upon it, that whoso weareth the same,<br />
Shall save his life in the battle, and have the battle’s shame;<br />
He shall live through wrack and ruin, and ever have the worse,<br />
And drag adown his kindred, and bear the people’s curse.’</p>
<p>“Lo, this the tale of the Hauberk, and I knew it for the truth:<br />
And little I thought of the kindreds; of their day I had no ruth;<br />
For I said, They are doomed to departure; in a little while must they
wane,<br />
And nought it helpeth or hindreth if I hold my hand or refrain.<br />
Yea, thou wert become the kindred, both thine and mine; and thy birth<br />
To me was the roofing of heaven, and the building up of earth.<br />
I have loved, and I must sorrow; thou hast lived, and thou must die;<br />
Ah, wherefore were there others in the world than thou and I?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He turned round to her and clasped her strongly in his arms again,
and kissed her many times and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Lo, here art thou forgiven; and here I say farewell!<br />
Here the token of my wonder which my words may never tell;<br />
The wonder past all thinking, that my love and thine should blend;<br />
That thus our lives should mingle, and sunder in the end!<br />
Lo, this, for the last remembrance of the mighty man I was,<br />
Of thy love and thy forbearing, and all that came to pass!<br />
Night wanes, and heaven dights her for the kiss of sun and earth;<br />
Look up, look last upon me on this morn of the kindreds’ mirth!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Therewith he arose and lingered no minute longer, but departed, going
as straight towards the Thing-stead and the Folk-mote of his kindred
as the swallow goes to her nest in the hall-porch.  He looked not
once behind him, though a bitter wailing rang through the woods and
filled his heart with the bitterness of her woe and the anguish of the
hour of sundering.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVII—THEY WEND TO THE MORNING BATTLE</h2>
<p>Now when Thiodolf came back to the camp the signs of dawn were plain
in the sky, the moon was low and sinking behind the trees, and he saw
at once that the men were stirring and getting ready for departure. 
He looked gladly and blithely at the men he fell in with, and they at
him, and scarce could they refrain a shout when they beheld his face
and the brightness of it.  He went straight up to where the Hall-Sun
was yet sitting under her namesake, with Arinbiorn standing before her
amidst of a ring of leaders of hundreds and scores: but old Sorli sat
by her side clad in all his war-gear.</p>
<p>When Thiodolf first came into that ring of men they looked doubtfully
at him, as if they dreaded somewhat, but when they had well beheld him
their faces cleared, and they became joyous.</p>
<p>He went straight up to Arinbiorn and kissed the old warrior, and
said to him, “I give thee good morrow, O leader of the Bearings! 
Here now is come the War-duke! and meseems that we should get to work
as speedily as may be, for lo the dawning!”</p>
<p>“Hail to thine hand, War-duke!” said Arinbiorn joyously;
“there is no more to do but to take thy word concerning the order
wherein we shall wend; for all men are armed and ready.”</p>
<p>Said Thiodolf; “Lo ye, I lack war-gear and weapons!  Is
there a good sword hereby, a helm, a byrny and a shield?  For hard
will be the battle, and we must fence ourselves all we may.”</p>
<p>“Hard by,” said Arinbiorn, “is the war-gear of
Ivar of our House, who is dead in the night of his hurts gotten in yesterday’s
battle: thou and he are alike in stature, and with a good will doth
he give them to thee, and they are goodly things, for he comes of smithying
blood.  Yet is it a pity of Throng-plough that he lieth on the
field of the slain.”</p>
<p>But Thiodolf smiled and said: “Nay, Ivar’s blade shall
serve my turn to-day; and thereafter shall it be seen to, for then will
be time for many things.”</p>
<p>So they went to fetch him the weapons; but he said to Arinbiorn,
“Hast thou numbered the host?  What are the gleanings of
the Roman sword?”</p>
<p>Said Arinbiorn: “Here have we more than three thousand three
hundred warriors of the host fit for battle: and besides this here are
gathered eighteen hundred of the Wolfings and the Bearings, and of the
other Houses, mostly from over the water, and of these nigh upon seven
hundred may bear sword or shoot shaft; neither shall ye hinder them
from so doing if the battle be joined.”</p>
<p>Then said Thiodolf: “We shall order us into three battles;
the Wolfings and the Bearings to lead the first, for this is our business;
but others of the smaller Houses this side the water to be with us;
and the Elkings and Galtings and the other Houses of the Mid-mark on
the further side of the water to be in the second, and with them the
more part of the Nether-mark; but the men of Up-mark to be in the third,
and the stay-at-homes to follow on with them: and this third battle
to let the wood cover them till they be needed, which may not be till
the day of fight draws to an end, when all shall be needed: for no Roman
man must be left alive or untaken by this even, or else must we all
go to the Gods together.  Hearken, Arinbiorn.  I am not called
fore-sighted, and yet meseems I see somewhat how this day shall go;
and it is not to be hidden that I shall not see another battle until
the last of all battles is at hand.  But be of good cheer, for
I shall not die till the end of the fight, and once more I shall be
a man’s help unto you.  Now the first of the Romans we meet
shall not be able to stand before us, for they shall be unready, and
when their men are gotten ready and are fighting with us grimly, ye
of the second battle shall hear the war-token, and shall fall on, and
they shall be dismayed when they see so many fresh men come into the
fight; yet shall they stand stoutly; for they are valiant men, and shall
not all be taken unawares.  Then, if they withstand us long enough,
shall the third battle come forth from the wood, and fall on either
flank of them, and the day shall be won.  But I think not that
they shall withstand us so long, but that the men of Up-mark and the
stay-at-homes shall have the chasing of them.  Now get me my war-gear,
and let the first battle get them to the outgate of the garth.”</p>
<p>So they brought him his arms; and meanwhile the Hall-Sun spake to
one of the Captains, and he turned and went away a little space, and
then came back, having with him three strong warriors of the Wolfings,
and he brought them before the Hall-Sun, who said to them:</p>
<p>“Ye three, Steinulf, Athalulf, and Grani the Grey, I have sent
for you because ye are men both mighty in battle and deft wood-wrights
and house-smiths; ye shall follow Thiodolf closely, when he winneth
into the Roman garth, yet shall ye fight wisely, so that ye be not slain,
or at least not all; ye shall enter the Hall with Thiodolf, and when
ye are therein, if need be, ye shall run down the Hall at your swiftest,
and mount up into the loft betwixt the Middle-hearth and the Women’s-Chamber,
and there shall ye find good store of water in vats and tubs, and this
ye shall use for quenching the fire of the Hall if the foemen fire it,
as is not unlike to be.”</p>
<p>Then Grani spoke for the others and said he would pay all heed to
her words, and they departed to join their company.</p>
<p>Now was Thiodolf armed; and Arinbiorn, turning about before he went
to his place, beheld him and knit his brow, and said: “What is
this, Thiodolf?  Didst thou not swear to the Gods not to bear helm
or shield in the battles of this strife? yet hast thou Ivar’s
helm on thine head and his shield ready beside thee: wilt thou forswear
thyself? so doing shalt thou bring woe upon the House.”</p>
<p>“Arinbiorn,” said Thiodolf, “where didst thou hear
tell of me that I had made myself the thrall of the Gods?  The
oath that I sware was sworn when mine heart was not whole towards our
people; and now will I break it that I may keep what of good intent
there was in it, and cast away the rest.  Long is the story; but
if we journey together to-night I will tell it thee.  Likewise
I will tell it to the Gods if they look sourly upon me when I see them,
and all shall be well.”</p>
<p>He smiled as he spoke, and Arinbiorn smiled on him in turn and went
his ways to array the host.  But when he was gone Thiodolf was
alone in that place with the Hall-Sun, and he turned to her, and kissed
her, and caressed her fondly, and spake and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“So fare we, O my daughter, to the sundering of
the ways;<br />
Short is my journey henceforth to the door that ends my days,<br />
And long the road that lieth as yet before thy feet.<br />
How fain were I that thy journey from day to day were sweet<br />
With peace to thee and pleasure; that a noble warrior’s hand<br />
In its early days might lead thee adown the flowery land,<br />
And thy children in its noon-tide cling round about thy gown,<br />
And the wise that thy womb has carried when the sun is going down,<br />
Be thy happy fellow-farers to tell the tale of Earth,<br />
But I wot that for no such sweetness did we bring thee unto birth,<br />
But to be the soul of the Wolfings till the other days should come,<br />
And the fruit of the kindreds’ harvest with thee is garnered home.<br />
Yet if for no blithe faring thy life-day is ordained,<br />
Yet peace that long endureth maybe thy soul hath gained;<br />
And thy sorrow of this even thy latest grief shall be,<br />
The grief wherewith thou singest the death-song over me.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She looked up at him and smiled, though the tears were on her face;
then she said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Though to-day the grief beginneth yet the bitterness
is done.<br />
Though my body wendeth barren ’neath the beams of the quickening
sun,<br />
Yet remembrance still abideth, and long after the days of my life<br />
Shall I live in the tale of the morning, when they tell of the ending
of strife;<br />
And the deeds of this little hand, and the thought conceived in my heart,<br />
And never again henceforward from the folk shall I fare apart.<br />
And if of the Earth, my father, thou hast tidings in thy place<br />
Thou shalt hear how they call me the Ransom and the Mother of happy
days.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then she wept outright for a brief space, and thereafter she said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Keep this in thine heart, O father, that I shall
remember all<br />
Since thou liftedst the she-wolf’s nursling in the oak-tree’s
leafy hall.<br />
Yea, every time I remember when hand in hand we went<br />
Amidst the shafts of the beech-trees, and down to the youngling bent<br />
The Folk-wolf in his glory when the eve of fight drew nigh;<br />
And every time I remember when we wandered joyfully<br />
Adown the sunny meadow and lived a while of life<br />
’Midst the herbs and the beasts and the waters so free from fear
and strife,<br />
That thy years and thy might and thy wisdom, I had no part therein;<br />
But thou wert as the twin-born brother of the maiden slim and thin,<br />
The maiden shy in the feast-hall and blithe in wood and field.<br />
Thus have we fared, my father; and e’en now when thou bearest
shield,<br />
On the last of thy days of mid-earth, twixt us ’tis even so<br />
That the heart of my like-aged brother is the heart of thee that I know.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Then the bitterness of tears stayed her speech, and he spake no word
more, but took her in his arms a while and soothed her and fondled her,
and then they parted, and he went with great strides towards the outgoing
of the Thing-stead.</p>
<p>There he found the warriors of his House and of the Bearings and
the lesser Houses of Mid-mark, all duly ordered for wending through
the wood.  The dawn was coming on apace, but the wood was yet dark. 
But whereas the Wolfings led, and each man of them knew the wood like
his own hand, there was no straying or disarray, and in less than a
half-hour’s space Thiodolf and the first battle were come to the
wood behind the hazel-trees at the back of the hall, and before them
was the dawning round about the Roof of the Kindred; the eastern heavens
were brightening, and they could see all things clear without the wood.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII—OF THE STORM OF DAWNING</h2>
<p>Then Thiodolf bade Fox and two others steal forward, and see what
of foemen was before them; so they fell to creeping on towards the open:
but scarcely had they started, before all men could hear the tramp of
men drawing nigh; then Thiodolf himself took with him a score of his
House and went quietly toward the wood-edge till they were barely within
the shadow of the beech-wood; and he looked forth and saw men coming
straight towards their lurking-place.  And those he saw were a
good many, and they were mostly of the dastards of the Goths; but with
them was a Captain of an Hundred of the Romans, and some others of his
kindred; and Thiodolf deemed that the Goths had been bidden to gather
up some of the night-watchers and enter the wood and fall on the stay-at-homes. 
So he bade his men get them aback, and he himself abode still at the
very wood’s edge listening intently with his sword bare in his
hand.  And he noted that those men of the foe stayed in the daylight
outside the wood, but a few yards from it, and, by command as it seemed,
fell silent and spake no word; and the morn was very still, and when
the sound of their tramp over the grass had ceased, Thiodolf could hear
the tramp of more men behind them.  And then he had another thought,
to wit that the Romans had sent scouts to see if the Goths yet abided
on the vantage-ground by the ford, and that when they had found them
gone, they were minded to fall on them unawares in the refuge of the
Thing-stead and were about to do so by the counsel and leading of the
dastard Goths; and that this was one body of the host led by those dastards,
who knew somewhat of the woods.  So he drew aback speedily, and
catching hold of Fox by the shoulder (for he had taken him alone with
him) he bade him creep along through the wood toward the Thing-stead,
and bring back speedy word whether there were any more foemen near the
wood thereaway; and he himself came to his men, and ordered them for
onset, drawing them up in a shallow half moon, with the bowmen at the
horns thereof, with the word to loose at the Romans as soon as they
heard the war-horn blow: and all this was done speedily and with little
noise, for they were well nigh so arrayed already.</p>
<p>Thus then they waited, and there was more than a glimmer of light
even under the beechen leaves, and the eastern sky was yellowing to
sunrise.  The other warriors were like hounds in the leash eager
to be slipped; but Thiodolf stood calm and high-hearted turning over
the memory of past days, and the time he thought of seemed long to him,
but happy.</p>
<p>Scarce had a score of minutes passed, and the Romans before them,
who were now gathered thick behind those dastards of the Goths, had
not moved, when back comes Fox and tells how he has come upon a great
company of the Romans led by their thralls of the Goths who were just
entering the wood, away there towards the Thing-stead.</p>
<p>“But, War-duke,” says he, “I came also across our
own folk of the second battle duly ordered in the wood ready to meet
them; and they shall be well dealt with, and the sun shall rise for
us and not for them.”</p>
<p>Then turns Thiodolf round to those nighest to him and says, but still
softly:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Hear ye a word, O people, of the wisdom of the
foe!<br />
Before us thick they gather, and unto the death they go.<br />
They fare as lads with their cur-dogs who have stopped a fox’s
earth,<br />
And standing round the spinny, now chuckle in their mirth,<br />
Till one puts by the leafage and trembling stands astare<br />
At the sight of the Wood wolf’s father arising in his lair—<br />
They have come for our wives and our children, and our sword-edge shall
they meet;<br />
And which of them is happy save he of the swiftest feet?”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Speedily then went that word along the ranks of the Kindred, and
men were merry with the restless joy of battle: but scarce had two minutes
passed ere suddenly the stillness of the dawn was broken by clamour
and uproar; by shouts and shrieks, and the clashing of weapons from
the wood on their left hand; and over all arose the roar of the Markmen’s
horn, for the battle was joined with the second company of the Kindreds. 
But a rumour and murmur went from the foemen before Thiodolf’s
men; and then sprang forth the loud sharp word of the captains commanding
and rebuking, as if the men were doubtful which way they should take.</p>
<p>Amidst all which Thiodolf brandished his sword, and cried out in
a great voice:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Now, now, ye War-sons!<br />
Now the Wolf waketh!<br />
Lo how the Wood-beast<br />
Wendeth in onset.<br />
E’en as his feet fare<br />
Fall on and follow!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>And he led forth joyously, and terrible rang the long refrained gathered
shout of his battle as his folk rushed on together devouring the little
space between their ambush and the hazel-beset greensward.</p>
<p>In the twinkling of an eye the half-moon had lapped around the Roman-Goths
and those that were with them; and the dastards made no stand but turned
about at once, crying out that the Gods of the Kindreds were come to
aid and none could withstand them.  But these fleers thrust against
the band of Romans who were next to them, and bore them aback, and great
was the turmoil; and when Thiodolf’s storm fell full upon them,
as it failed not to do, so close were they driven together that scarce
could any man raise his hand for a stroke.  For behind them stood
a great company of those valiant spearmen of the Romans, who would not
give way if anywise they might hold it out: and their ranks were closely
serried, shield nigh touching shield, and their faces turned toward
the foe; and so arrayed, though they might die, they scarce knew how
to flee.  As they might these thrust and hewed at the fleers, and
gave fierce words but few to the Roman-Goths, driving them back against
their foemen: but the fleers had lost the cunning of their right hands,
and they had cast away their shields and could not defend their very
bodies against the wrath of the kindreds; and when they strove to flee
to the right hand or to the left, they were met by the horns of the
half-moon, and the arrows began to rain in upon them, and from so close
were they shot at that no shaft failed to smite home.</p>
<p>There then were the dastards slain; and their bodies served for a
rampart against the onrush of the Markmen to those Romans who had stood
fast.  To them were gathering more and more every minute, and they
faced the Goths steadily with their hard brown visages and gleaming
eyes above their iron-plated shields; not casting their spears, but
standing closely together, silent, but fierce.  The light was spread
now over all the earth; the eastern heavens were grown golden-red, flecked
here and there with little crimson clouds: this battle was fallen near
silent, but to the North was great uproar of shouts and cries, and the
roaring of the war-horns, and the shrill blasts of the brazen trumpets.</p>
<p>Now Thiodolf, as his wont was when he saw that all was going well,
had refrained himself of hand-strokes, but was here and there and everywhere
giving heart to his folk, and keeping them in due order, and close array,
lest the Romans should yet come among them.  But he watched the
ranks of the foe, and saw how presently they began to spread out beyond
his, and might, if it were not looked to, take them in flank; and he
was about to order his men anew to meet them, when he looked on his
left hand and saw how Roman men were pouring thick from the wood out
of all array, followed by a close throng of the kindreds: for on this
side the Romans were outnumbered and had stumbled unawares into the
ambush of the Markmen, who had fallen on them straightway and disarrayed
them from the first.  This flight of their folk the Romans saw
also, and held their men together, refraining from the onset, as men
who deem that they will have enough to do to stand fast.</p>
<p>But the second battle of the Markmen, (who were of the Nether-mark,
mingled with the Mid-mark) fought wisely, for they swept those fleers
from before them, slaying many and driving the rest scattering, yet
held the chase for no long way, but wheeling about came sidelong on
toward the battle of the Romans and Thiodolf.  And when Thiodolf
saw that, he set up the whoop of victory, he and his, and fell fiercely
on the Romans, casting everything that would fly, as they rushed on
to the handplay; so that there was many a Roman slain with the Roman
spears that those who had fallen had left among their foemen.</p>
<p>Now the Roman captains perceived that it availed not to tarry till
the men of the Mid and Nether-marks fell upon their flank; so they gave
command, and their ranks gave back little by little, facing their foes,
and striving to draw themselves within the dike and garth, which, after
their custom, they had already cast up about the Wolfing Roof, their
stronghold.</p>
<p>Now as fierce as was the onset of the Markmen, the main body of the
Romans could not be hindered from doing this much before the men of
the second battle were upon them; but Thiodolf and Arinbiorn with some
of the mightiest brake their array in two places and entered in amongst
them.  And wrath so seized upon the soul of Arinbiorn for the slaying
of Otter, and his own fault towards him, that he cast away his shield,
and heeding no strokes, first brake his sword in the press, and then,
getting hold of a great axe, smote at all before him as though none
smote at him in turn; yea, as though he were smiting down tree-boles
for a match against some other mighty man; and all the while amidst
the hurry, strokes of swords and spears rained on him, some falling
flatwise and some glancing sideways, but some true and square, so that
his helm was smitten off and his hauberk rent adown, and point and edge
reached his living flesh; and he had thrust himself so far amidst the
foe that none could follow to shield him, so that at last he fell shattered
and rent at the foot of the new clayey wall cast up by the Romans, even
as Thiodolf and a band with him came cleaving the press, and the Romans
closed the barriers against friend and foe, and cast great beams adown,
and masses of iron and lead and copper taken from the smithying-booths
of the Wolfings, to stay them if it were but a little.</p>
<p>Then Thiodolf bestrode the fallen warrior, and men of his House were
close behind him, for wisely had he fought, cleaving the press like
a wedge, helping his friends that they might help him, so that they
all went forward together.  But when he saw Arinbiorn fall he cried
out:</p>
<p>“Woe’s me, Arinbiorn! that thou wouldest not wait for
me; for the day is young yet, and over-young!”</p>
<p>There then they cleared the space outside the gate, and lifted up
the Bearing Warrior, and bare him back from the rampart.  For so
fierce had been the fight and so eager the storm of those that had followed
after him that they must needs order their battle afresh, since Thiodolf’s
wedge which he had driven into the Roman host was but of a few and the
foe had been many and the rampart and the shot-weapons were close anigh. 
Wise therefore it seemed to abide them of the second battle and join
with them to swarm over the new-built slippery wall in the teeth of
the Roman shot.</p>
<p>In this, the first onset of the Morning Battle, some of the Markmen
had fallen, but not many, since but a few had entered outright into
the Roman ranks; and when they first rushed on from the wood but three
of them were slain, and the slaughter was all of the dastards and the
Romans; and afterwards not a few of the Romans were slain, what by Arinbiorn,
what by the others; for they were fighting fleeing, and before their
eyes was the image of the garth-gate which was behind them; and they
stumbled against each other as they were driven sideways against the
onrush of the Goths, nor were they now standing fair and square to them,
and they were hurried and confused with the dread of the onset of them
of the two Marks.</p>
<p>As yet Thiodolf had gotten no great hurt, so that when he heard that
Arinbiorn’s soul had passed away he smiled and said:</p>
<p>“Yea, yea, Arinbiorn might have abided the end, for ere then
shall the battle be hard.”</p>
<p>So now the Wolfings and the Bearings met joyously the kindreds of
the Nether Mark and the others of the second battle, and they sang the
song of victory arrayed in good order hard by the Roman rampart, while
bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled, and sling-stones hummed from
this side and from that.</p>
<p>And of their song of victory thus much the tale telleth:</p>
<blockquote><p>   “Now hearken and hear<br />
   Of the day-dawn of fear,<br />
   And how up rose the sun<br />
   On the battle begun.<br />
   All night lay a-hiding,<br />
   Our anger abiding,<br />
   Dark down in the wood<br />
   The sharp seekers of blood;<br />
But ere red grew the heaven we bore them all bare,<br />
For against us undriven the foemen must fare;<br />
They sought and they found us, and sorrowed to find,<br />
For the tree-boles around us the story shall mind,<br />
How fast from the glooming they fled to the light,<br />
Yeasaying the dooming of Tyr of the fight.</p>
<p>   “Hearken yet and again<br />
   How the night gan to wane,<br />
   And the twilight stole on<br />
   Till the world was well won!<br />
   E’en in such wise was wending<br />
   A great host for our ending;<br />
   On our life-days e’en so<br />
   Stole the host of the foe;<br />
Till the heavens grew lighter, and light grew the world,<br />
And the storm of the fighter upon them was hurled,<br />
Then some fled the stroke, and some died and some stood,<br />
Till the worst of the storm broke right out from the wood,<br />
And the war-shafts were singing the carol of fear,<br />
The tale of the bringing the sharp swords anear.</p>
<p>   “Come gather we now,<br />
   For the day doth grow.<br />
   Come, gather, ye bold,<br />
   Lest the day wax old;<br />
   Lest not till to-morrow<br />
   We slake our sorrow,<br />
   And heap the ground<br />
   With many a mound.<br />
Come, war-children, gather, and clear we the land!<br />
In the tide of War-father the deed is to hand.<br />
Clad in gear that we gilded they shrink from our sword;<br />
In the House that we builded they sit at the board;<br />
Come, war-children, gather, come swarm o’er the wall<br />
For the feast of War-father to sweep out the Hall!”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Now amidst of their singing the sun rose upon the earth, and gleamed
in the arms of men, and lit the faces of the singing warriors as they
stood turned toward the east.</p>
<p>In this first onset of battle but twenty and three Markmen were slain
in all, besides Arinbiorn; for, as aforesaid, they had the foe at a
disadvantage.  And this onset is called in the tale the Storm of
Dawning.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXI—OF THIODOLF’S STORM</h2>
<p>The Goths tarried not over their victory; they shot with all the
bowmen that they had against the Romans on the wall, and therewith arrayed
themselves to fall on once more.  And Thiodolf, now that the foe
were covered by a wall, though it was but a little one, sent a message
to the men of the third battle, them of Up-mark to wit, to come forward
in good array and help to make a ring around the Wolfing Stead, wherein
they should now take the Romans as a beast is taken in a trap. 
Meanwhile, until they came, he sent other men to the wood to bring tree-boles
to batter the gate, and to make bridges whereby to swarm over the wall,
which was but breast-high on the Roman side, though they had worked
at it ceaselessly since yesterday morning.</p>
<p>In a long half-hour, therefore, the horns of the men of Up-mark sounded,
and they came forth from the wood a very great company, for with them
also were the men of the stay-at-homes and the homeless, such of them
as were fit to bear arms.  Amongst these went the Hall-Sun surrounded
by a band of the warriors of Up-mark; and before her was borne her namesake
the Lamp as a sign of assured victory.  But these stay-at-homes
with the Hall-Sun were stayed by the command of Thiodolf on the crown
of the slope above the dwellings, and stood round about the Speech-Hill,
on the topmost of which stood the Hall-Sun, and the wondrous Lamp, and
the men who warded her and it.</p>
<p>When the Romans saw the new host come forth from the wood, they might
well think that they would have work enough to do that day; but when
they saw the Hall-Sun take her stand on the Speech-Hill with the men-at-arms
about her, and the Lamp before her, then dread of the Gods fell upon
them, and they knew that the doom had gone forth against them. 
Nevertheless they were not men to faint and die because the Gods were
become their foes, but they were resolved rather to fight it out to
the end against whatsoever might come against them, as was well seen
afterwards.</p>
<p>Now they had made four gates to their garth according to their custom,
and at each gate within was there a company of their mightiest men,
and each was beset by the best of the Markmen.  Thiodolf and his
men beset the western gate where they had made that fierce onset. 
And the northern gate was beset by the Elkings and some of the kindreds
of the Nether-mark; and the eastern gate by the rest of the men of Nether-mark;
and the southern gate by the kindreds of Up-mark.</p>
<p>All this the Romans noted, and they saw how that the Markmen were
now very many, and they knew that they were men no less valiant than
themselves, and they perceived that Thiodolf was a wise Captain; and
in less than two hours’ space from the Storm of Dawning they saw
those men coming from the wood with plenteous store of tree-trunks to
bridge their ditch and rampart; and they considered how the day was
yet very young, so that they might look for no shelter from the night-tide;
and as for any aid from their own folk at the war-garth aforesaid, they
hoped not for it, nor had they sent any messenger to the Captain of
the garth; nor did they know as yet of his overthrow on the Ridge.</p>
<p>Now therefore there seemed to be but two choices before them; either
to abide within the rampart they had cast up, or to break out like valiant
men, and either die in the storm, or cleave a way through, whereby they
might come to their kindred and their stronghold south-east of the Mark.</p>
<p>This last way then they chose; or, to say the truth, it was their
chief captain who chose it for them, though they were nothing loth thereto:
for this man was a mocker, yet hot-headed, unstable, and nought wise
in war, and heretofore had his greed minished his courage; yet now,
being driven into a corner, he had courage enough and to spare, but
utterly lacked patience; for it had been better for the Romans to have
abided one or two onsets from the Goths, whereby they who should make
the onslaught would at the least have lost more men than they on whom
they should fall, before they within stormed forth on them; but their
pride took away from the Romans their last chance.  But their captain,
now that he perceived, as he thought, that the game was lost and his
life come to its last hour wherein he would have to leave his treasure
and pleasure behind him, grew desperate and therewith most fierce and
cruel.  So all the captives whom they had taken (they were but
two score and two, for the wounded men they had slain) he caused to
be bound on the chairs of the high-seat clad in their war-gear with
their swords or spears made fast to their right hands, and their shields
to their left hands; and he said that the Goths should now hold a Thing
wherein they should at last take counsel wisely, and abstain from folly. 
For he caused store of faggots and small wood smeared with grease and
oil to be cast into the hall that it might be fired, so that it and
the captives should burn up altogether; “So,” said he, “shall
we have a fair torch for our funeral fire;” for it was the custom
of the Romans to burn their dead.</p>
<p>Thus, then, he did; and then he caused men to do away the barriers
and open all the four gates of the new-made garth, after he had manned
the wall with the slingers and bowmen, and slain the horses, so that
the woodland folk should have no gain of them.  Then he arrayed
his men at the gates and about them duly and wisely, and bade those
valiant footmen fall on the Goths who were getting ready to fall on
them, and to do their best.  But he himself armed at all points
took his stand at the Man’s-door of the Hall, and swore by all
the Gods of his kindred that he would not move a foot’s length
from thence either for fire or for steel.</p>
<p>So fiercely on that fair morning burned the hatred of men about the
dwellings of the children of the Wolf of the Goths, wherein the children
of the Wolf of Rome were shut up as in a penfold of slaughter.</p>
<p>Meanwhile the Hall-Sun standing on the Hill of Speech beheld it all,
looking down into the garth of war; for the new wall was no hindrance
to her sight, because the Speech-Hill was high and but a little way
from the Great Roof; and indeed she was within shot of the Roman bowmen,
though they were not very deft in shooting.</p>
<p>So now she lifted up her voice and sang so that many heard her; for
at this moment of time there was a lull in the clamour of battle both
within the garth and without; even as it happens when the thunder-storm
is just about to break on the world, that the wind drops dead, and the
voice of the leaves is hushed before the first great and near flash
of lightening glares over the fields.</p>
<p>So she sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Now the latest hour cometh and the ending of the
strife;<br />
And to-morrow and to-morrow shall we take the hand of life,<br />
And wend adown the meadows, and skirt the darkling wood,<br />
And reap the waving acres, and gather in the good.<br />
I see a wall before me built up of steel and fire,<br />
And hurts and heart-sick striving, and the war-wright’s fierce
desire;<br />
But there-amidst a door is, and windows are therein;<br />
And the fair sun-litten meadows and the Houses of the kin<br />
Smile on me through the terror my trembling life to stay,<br />
That at my mouth now flutters, as fain to flee away.<br />
Lo e’en as the little hammer and the blow-pipe of the wright<br />
About the flickering fire deals with the silver white,<br />
And the cup and its beauty groweth that shall be for the people’s
feast,<br />
And all men are glad to see it from the greatest to the least;<br />
E’en so is the tale now fashioned, that many a time and oft<br />
Shall be told on the acre’s edges, when the summer eve is soft;<br />
Shall be hearkened round the hall-blaze when the mid-winter night<br />
The kindreds’ mirth besetteth, and quickeneth man’s delight,<br />
And we that have lived in the story shall be born again and again<br />
As men feast on the bread of our earning, and praise the grief-born
grain.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>As she made an end of singing, those about her understood her words,
that she was foretelling victory, and the peace of the Mark, and for
joy they raised a shrill cry; and the warriors who were nighest to her
took it up, and it spread through the whole host round about the garth,
and went up into the breath of the summer morning and went down the
wind along the meadow of the Wolfings, so that they of the wain-burg,
who were now drawing somewhat near to Wolf-stead heard it and were glad.</p>
<p>But the Romans when they heard it knew that the heart of the battle
was reached, and they cast back that shout wrathfully and fiercely,
and made toward the foe.</p>
<p>Therewithal those mighty men fell on each other in the narrow passes
of the garth; for fear was dead and buried in that Battle of the Morning.</p>
<p>On the North gate Hiarandi of the Elkings was the point of the Markmen’s
wedge, and first clave the Roman press.  In the Eastern gate it
was Valtyr, Otter’s brother’s son, a young man and most
mighty.  In the South gate it was Geirbald of the Shieldings, the
Messenger.</p>
<p>In the west gate Thiodolf the War-duke gave one mighty cry like the
roar of an angry lion, and cleared a space before him for the wielding
of Ivar’s blade; for at that moment he had looked up to the Roof
of the Kindred and had beheld a little stream of smoke curling blue
out of a window thereof, and he knew what had betided, and how short
was the time before them.  But his wrathful cry was taken up by
some who had beheld that same sight, and by others who saw nought but
the Roman press, and terribly it rang over the swaying struggling crowd.</p>
<p>Then fell the first rank of the Romans before those stark men and
mighty warriors; and they fell even where they stood, for on neither
side could any give back but for a little space, so close the press
was, and the men so eager to smite.  Neither did any crave peace
if he were hurt or disarmed; for to the Goths it was but a little thing
to fall in hot blood in that hour of love of the kindred, and longing
for the days to be.  And for the Romans, they had had no mercy,
and now looked for none: and they remembered their dealings with the
Goths, and saw before them, as it were, once more, yea, as in a picture,
their slayings and quellings, and lashings, and cold mockings which
they had dealt out to the conquered foemen without mercy, and now they
longed sore for the quiet of the dark, when their hard lives should
be over, and all these deeds forgotten, and they and their bitter foes
should be at rest for ever.</p>
<p>Most valiantly they fought; but the fury of their despair could not
deal with the fearless hope of the Goths, and as rank after rank of
them took the place of those who were hewn down by Thiodolf and the
Kindred, they fell in their turn, and slowly the Goths cleared a space
within the gates, and then began to spread along the wall within, and
grew thicker and thicker.  Nor did they fight only at the gates;
but made them bridges of those tree-trunks, and fell to swarming over
the rampart, till they had cleared it of the bowmen and slingers, and
then they leaped down and fell upon the flanks of the Romans; and the
host of the dead grew, and the host of the living lessened.</p>
<p>Moreover the stay-at-homes round about the Speech-Hill, and that
band of the warriors of Up-mark who were with them, beheld the Great
Roof and saw the smoke come gushing out of the windows, and at last
saw the red flames creep out amidst it and waver round the window jambs
like little banners of scarlet cloth.  Then they could no longer
refrain themselves, but ran down from the Speech-Hill and the slope
about it with great and fierce cries, and clomb the wall where it was
unmanned, helping each other with hand and back, both stark warriors,
and old men and lads and women: and thus they gat them into the garth
and fell upon the lessening band of the Romans, who now began to give
way hither and thither about the garth, as they best might.</p>
<p>Thus it befell at the West-gate, but at the other gates it was no
worser, for there was no diversity of valour between the Houses; nay,
whereas the more part and the best part of the Romans faced the onset
of Thiodolf, which seemed to them the main onset, they were somewhat
easier to deal with elsewhere than at the West gate; and at the East
gate was the place first won, so that Valtyr and his folk were the first
to clear a space within the gate, and to tell the tale shortly (for
can this that and the other sword-stroke be told of in such a medley?)
they drew the death-ring around the Romans that were before them, and
slew them all to the last man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward
of them of the North gate, who still stood before Hiarandi’s onset. 
There again was no long tale to tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning
the gate, and the wall was cleared of the Roman shot-fighters, and the
Markmen were standing on the top thereof, and casting down on the Romans
spears and baulks of wood and whatsoever would fly.  There again
were the Romans all slain or put out of the fight, and the two bands
of the kindred joined together, and with what voices the battle-rage
had left them cried out for joy and fared on together to help to bind
the sheaves of war which Thiodolf’s sickle had reaped.  And
now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they still fought in
knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed and thrust without
more thought or will than the stone has when it leaps adown the hill-side
after it has first been set agoing.</p>
<p>But now the garth was fairly won and Thiodolf saw that there was
no hope for the Romans drawing together again; so while the kindreds
were busied in hewing down those knots of desperate men, he gathered
to him some of the wisest of his warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf
and Grani the Grey, the deft wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously
hurt by a spear and was out of the battle), and drave a way through
the confused turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made
straight for the Man’s-door of the Hall.  Soon he was close
thereto, having hewn away all fleers that hindered him, and the doorway
was before him.  But on the threshold, the fire and flames of the
kindled hall behind him, stood the Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned
armour and surcoat of sea-born purple; the man was cool and calm and
proud, and a mocking smile was on his face: and he bore his bright blade
unbloodied in his hand.</p>
<p>Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their eyes met; it had gone
hard with the War-duke, and those eyes glittered in his pale face, and
his teeth were close set together; though he had fought wisely, and
for life, as he who is most valiant ever will do, till he is driven
to bay like the lone wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. 
His helm and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought
coat, but the work of Ivar’s hand: the blood was running down
from his left arm, and he was hurt in many places: he had broken Ivar’s
sword in the medley, and now bore in his hand a strong Roman short-sword,
and his feet stood bloody on the worn earth anigh the Man’s-door.</p>
<p>He looked into the scornful eyes of the Roman lord for a little minute
and then laughed aloud, and therewithal, leaping on him with one spring,
turned sideways, and dealt him a great buffet on his ear with his unarmed
left hand, just as the Roman thrust at him with his sword, so that the
Captain staggered forward on to the next man following, which was Wolfkettle
the eager warrior, who thrust him through with his sword and shoved
him aside as they all strode into the hall together.  Howbeit no
sword fell from the Roman Captain as he fell, for Thiodolf’s side
bore it into the Hall of the Wolfings.</p>
<p>Most wrathful were those men, and went hastily, for their Roof was
full of smoke, and the flames flickered about the pillars and the wall
here and there, and crept up to the windows aloft; yet was it not wholly
or fiercely burning; for the Roman fire-raisers had been hurried and
hasty in their work.  Straightway then Steinulf and Grani led the
others off at a run towards the loft and the water; but Thiodolf, who
went slowly and painfully, looked and beheld on the dais those men bound
for the burning, and he went quietly, and as a man who has been sick,
and is weak, up on to the dais, and said:</p>
<p>“Be of good cheer, O brothers, for the kindreds have vanquished
the foemen, and the end of strife is come.”</p>
<p>His voice sounded strange and sweet to them amidst the turmoil of
the fight without; he laid down his sword on the table, and drew a little
sharp knife from his girdle and cut their bonds one by one and loosed
them with his blood-stained hands; and each one as he loosed him he
kissed and said to him, “Brother, go help those who are quenching
the fire; this is the bidding of the War-duke.”</p>
<p>But as he loosed one after other he was longer and longer about it,
and his words were slower.  At last he came to the man who was
bound in his own high-seat close under the place of the wondrous Lamp,
the Hall-Sun, and he was the only one left bound; that man was of the
Wormings and was named Elfric; he loosed him and was long about it;
and when he was done he smiled on him and kissed him, and said to him:</p>
<p>“Arise, brother! go help the quenchers of the fire, and leave
to me this my chair, for I am weary: and if thou wilt, thou mayst bring
me of that water to drink, for this morning men have forgotten the mead
of the reapers!”</p>
<p>Then Elfric arose, and Thiodolf sat in his chair, and leaned back
his head; but Elfric looked at him for a moment as one scared, and then
ran his ways down the hall, which now was growing noisy with the hurry
and bustle of the quenchers of the fire, to whom had divers others joined
themselves.</p>
<p>There then from a bucket which was still for a moment he filled a
wooden bowl, which he caught up from the base of one of the hall-pillars,
and hastened up the Hall again; and there was no man nigh the dais,
and Thiodolf yet sat in his chair, and the hall was dim with the rolling
smoke, and Elfric saw not well what the War-duke was doing.  So
he hastened on, and when he was close to Thiodolf he trod in something
wet, and his heart sank for he knew that it was blood; his foot slipped
therewith and as he put out his hand to save himself the more part of
the water was spilled, and mingled with the blood.  But he went
up to Thiodolf and said to him, “Drink, War-duke! here hath come
a mouthful of water.”</p>
<p>But Thiodolf moved not for his word, and Elfric touched him, and
he moved none the more.</p>
<p>Then Elfric’s heart failed him and he laid his hand on the
War-duke’s hand, and looked closely into his face; and the hand
was cold and the face ashen-pale; and Elfric laid his hand on his side,
and he felt the short-sword of the Roman leader thrust deep therein,
besides his many other hurts.</p>
<p>So Elfric knew that he was dead, and he cast the bowl to the earth,
and lifted up his hands and wailed out aloud, like a woman who hath
come suddenly on her dead child, and cried out in a great voice:</p>
<p>“Hither, hither, O men in this hall, for the War-duke of the
Markmen is dead!  O ye people, Hearken!  Thiodolf the Mighty,
the Wolfing is dead!”</p>
<p>And he was a young man, and weak with the binding and the waiting
for death, and he bowed himself adown and crouched on the ground and
wept aloud.</p>
<p>But even as he cried that cry, the sunlight outside the Man’s-door
was darkened, and the Hall-Sun came over the threshold in her ancient
gold-embroidered raiment, holding in her hand her namesake the wondrous
Lamp; and the spears and the war-gear of warriors gleamed behind her;
but the men tarried on the threshold till she turned about and beckoned
to them, and then they poured in through the Man’s-door, their
war-gear rent and they all befouled and disarrayed with the battle,
but with proud and happy faces: as they entered she waved her hand to
them to bid them go join the quenchers of the fire; so they went their
ways.</p>
<p>But she went with unfaltering steps up to the dais, and the place
where the chain of the Lamp hung down from amidst the smoke-cloud wavering
a little in the gusts of the hall.  Straightway she made the Lamp
fast to its chain, and dealt with its pulleys with a deft hand often
practised therein, and then let it run up toward the smoke-hidden Roof
till it gleamed in its due place once more, a token of the salvation
of the Wolfings and the welfare of all the kindreds.</p>
<p>Then she turned toward Thiodolf with a calm and solemn face, though
it was very pale and looked as if she would not smile again.  Elfric
had risen up and was standing by the board speechless and the passion
of sobs still struggling in his bosom.  She put him aside gently,
and went up to Thiodolf and stood above him, and looked down on his
face a while: then she put forth her hand and closed his eyes, and stooped
down and kissed his face.  Then she stood up again and faced the
Hall and looked and saw that many were streaming in, and that though
the smoke was still eddying overhead, the fire was well nigh quenched
within; and without the sound of battle had sunk and died away. 
For indeed the Markmen had ended their day’s work before noon-tide
that day, and the more part of the Romans were slain, and to the rest
they had given peace till the Folk-mote should give Doom concerning
them; for pity of these valiant men was growing in the hearts of the
valiant men who had vanquished them, now that they feared them no more.</p>
<p>And this second part of the Morning Battle is called Thiodolf’s
Storm.</p>
<p>So now when the Hall-Sun looked and beheld that the battle was done
and the fire quenched, and when she saw how every man that came into
the Hall looked up and beheld the wondrous Lamp and his face quickened
into joy at the sight of it; and how most looked up at the high-seat
and Thiodolf lying leaned back therein, her heart nigh broke between
the thought of her grief and of the grief of the Folk that their mighty
friend was dead, and the thought of the joy of the days to be and all
the glory that his latter days had won.  But she gathered heart,
and casting back the dark tresses of her hair, she lifted up her voice
and cried out till its clear shrillness sounded throughout all the Roof:</p>
<p>“O men in this Hall the War-duke is dead!  O people hearken!
for Thiodolf the Mighty hath changed his life: Come hither, O men, Come
hither, for this is true, that Thiodolf is dead!”</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXX—THIODOLF IS BORNE OUT OF THE HALL AND OTTER IS
LAID BESIDE HIM</h2>
<p>So when they heard her voice they came thither flockmeal, and a great
throng mingled of many kindreds was in the Hall, but with one consent
they made way for the Children of the Wolf to stand nearest to the dais. 
So there they stood, the warriors mingled with the women, the swains
with the old men, the freemen with the thralls: for now the stay-at-homes
of the House were all gotten into the garth, and the more part of them
had flowed into the feast-hall when they knew that the fire was slackening.</p>
<p>All these now had heard the clear voice of the Hall-Sun, or others
had told them what had befallen; and the wave of grief had swept coldly
over them amidst their joy of the recoverance of their dwelling-place;
yet they would not wail nor cry aloud, even to ease their sorrow, till
they had heard the words of the Hall-Sun, as she stood facing them beside
their dead War-duke.</p>
<p>Then she spake: “O Sorli the Old, come up hither! thou hast
been my fellow in arms this long while.”</p>
<p>So the old man came forth, and went slowly in his clashing war-gear
up on to the dais.  But his attire gleamed and glittered, since
over-old was he to thrust deep into the press that day, howbeit he was
wise in war.  So he stood beside her on the dais holding his head
high, and proud he looked, for all his thin white locks and sunken eyes.</p>
<p>But again said the Hall-Sun: “Canst thou hear me, Wolfkettle,
when I bid thee stand beside me, or art thou, too, gone on the road
to Valhall?”</p>
<p>Forth then strode that mighty warrior and went toward the dais: nought
fair was his array to look on; for point and edge had rent it and stained
it red, and the flaring of the hall-flames had blackened it; his face
was streaked with black withal, and his hands were as the hands of a
smith among the thralls who hath wrought unwashen in the haste and hurry
when men look to see the war-arrow abroad.  But he went up on to
the dais and held up his head proudly, and looked forth on to the hall-crowd
with eyes that gleamed fiercely from his stained and blackened face.</p>
<p>Again the Hall-Sun said: “Art thou also alive, O Egil the messenger? 
Swift are thy feet, but not to flee from the foe: Come up and stand
with us!”</p>
<p>Therewith Egil clave the throng; he was not so roughly dealt with
as was Wolfkettle, for he was a bowman, and had this while past shot
down on the Romans from aloof; and he yet held his bended bow in his
hand.  He also came up on to the dais and stood beside Wolfkettle
glancing down on the hall-crowd, looking eagerly from side to side.</p>
<p>Yet again the Hall-Sun spake: “No aliens now are dwelling in
the Mark; come hither, ye men of the kindreds!  Come thou, our
brother Hiarandi of the Elkings, for thy sisters, our wives, are fain
of thee.  Come thou, Valtyr of the Laxings, brother’s son
of Otter; do thou for the War-duke what thy father’s brother had
done, had he not been faring afar.  Come thou, Geirbald of the
Shieldings the messenger!  Now know we the deeds of others and
thy deeds.  Come, stand beside us for a little!”</p>
<p>Forth then they came in their rent and battered war-gear: and the
tall Hiarandi bore but the broken truncheon of his sword; and Valtyr
a woodman’s axe notched and dull with work; and Geirbald a Roman
cast-spear, for his own weapons had been broken in the medley; and he
came the last of the three, going as a belated reaper from the acres. 
There they stood by the others and gazed adown the hall-throng.</p>
<p>But the Hall-Sun spake again: “Agni of the Daylings, I see
thee now.  How camest thou into the hard handplay, old man? 
Come hither and stand with us, for we love thee.  Angantyr of the
Bearings, fair was thy riding on the day of the Battle on the Ridge! 
Come thou, be with us.  Shall the Beamings whose daughters we marry
fail the House of the Wolf to-day?  Geirodd, thou hast no longer
a weapon, but the fight is over, and this hour thou needest it not. 
Come to us, brother!  Gunbald of the Vallings, the Falcon on thy
shield is dim with the dint of point and edge, but it hath done its
work to ward thy valiant heart: Come hither, friend!  Come all
ye and stand with us!”</p>
<p>As she named them so they came, and they went up on to the dais and
stood altogether; and a terrible band of warriors they looked had the
fight been to begin over again, and they to meet death once more. 
And again spake the Hall-Sun:</p>
<p>“Steinulf and Grani, deft are your hands!  Take ye the
stalks of the war blossoms, the spears of the kindreds, and knit them
together to make a bier for our War-duke, for he is weary and may not
go afoot.  Thou Ali, son of Grey; thou hast gone errands for me
before; go forth now from the garth, and wend thy ways toward the water,
and tell me when thou comest back what thou hast seen of the coming
of the wain-burg.  For by this time it should be drawing anigh.”</p>
<p>So Ali went forth, and there was silence of words for a while in
the Hall; but there arose the sound of the wood-wrights busy with the
wimble and the hammer about the bier.  No long space had gone by
when Ali came back into the hall panting with his swift running; and
he cried out:</p>
<p>“O Hall-Sun, they are coming; the last wain hath crossed the
ford, and the first is hard at hand: bright are their banners in the
sun.”</p>
<p>Then said the Hall-Sun: “O warriors, it is fitting that we
go to meet our banners returning from the field, and that we do the
Gods to wit what deeds we have done; fitting is it also that Thiodolf
our War-duke wend with us.  Now get ye into your ordered bands,
and go we forth from the fire-scorched hall, and out into the sunlight,
that the very earth and the heavens may look upon the face of our War-duke,
and bear witness that he hath played his part as a man.”</p>
<p>Then without more words the folk began to stream out of the Hall,
and within the garth which the Romans had made they arrayed their companies. 
But when they were all gone from the Hall save they who were on the
dais, the Hall-Sun took the waxen torch which she had litten and quenched
at the departure of the host to battle, and now she once more kindled
it at the flame of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun.  But the wood-wrights
brought the bier which they had made of the spear-shafts of the kindred,
and they laid thereon a purple cloak gold-embroidered of the treasure
of the Wolfings, and thereon was Thiodolf laid.</p>
<p>Then those men took him up; to wit, Sorli the Old, and Wolfkettle
and Egil, all these were of the Wolfing House; Hiarandi of the Elkings
also, and Valtyr of the Laxings, Geirbald of the Shieldings, Agni of
the Daylings, Angantyr of the Bearings, Geirodd of the Beamings, Gunbald
of the Vallings: all these, with the two valiant wood-wrights, Steinulf
and Grani, laid hand to the bier.</p>
<p>So they bore it down from the dais, and out at the Man’s-door
into the sunlight, and the Hall-Sun followed close after it, holding
in her hand the Candle of Returning.  It was an hour after high-noon
of a bright midsummer day when she came out into the garth; and the
smoke from the fire-scorched hall yet hung about the trees of the wood-edge. 
She looked neither down towards her feet nor on the right side or the
left, but straight before her.  The ordered companies of the kindreds
hid the sight of many fearful things from her eyes; though indeed the
thralls and women had mostly gleaned the dead from the living both of
friend and foe, and were tending the hurt of either host.  Through
an opening in the ranks moreover could they by the bier behold the scanty
band of Roman captives, some standing up, looking dully around them,
some sitting or lying on the grass talking quietly together, and it
seemed by their faces that for them the bitterness of death was passed.</p>
<p>Forth then fared the host by the West gate, where Thiodolf had done
so valiantly that day, and out on to the green amidst the booths and
lesser dwellings.  Sore then was the heart of the Hall-Sun, as
she looked forth over dwelling, and acre, and meadow, and the blue line
of the woods beyond the water, and bethought her of all the familiar
things that were within the compass of her eyesight, and remembered
the many days of her father’s loving-kindness, and the fair words
wherewith he had solaced her life-days.  But of the sorrow that
wrung her heart nothing showed in her face, nor was she paler now than
her wont was.  For high was her courage, and she would in no wise
mar that fair day and victory of the kindreds with grief for what was
gone, whereas so much of what once was, yet abided and should abide
for ever.</p>
<p>Then fared they down through the acres, where what was yet left of
the wheat was yellowing toward harvest, and the rye hung grey and heavy;
for bright and hot had the weather been all through these tidings. 
Howbeit much of the corn was spoiled by the trampling of the Roman bands.</p>
<p>So came they into the fair open meadow and saw before them the wains
coming to meet them with their folk; to wit a throng of stout carles
of the thrall-folk led by the war-wise and ripe men of the Steerings. 
Bright was the gleaming of the banner-wains, though for the lack of
wind the banners hung down about their staves; the sound of the lowing
of the bulls and the oxen, the neighing of horses and bleating of the
flocks came up to the ears of the host as they wended over the meadow.</p>
<p>They made stay at last on the rising ground, all trampled and in
parts bloody, where yesterday Thiodolf had come on the fight between
the remnant of Otter’s men and the Romans: there they opened their
ranks, and made a ring round about a space, amidmost of which was a
little mound whereon was set the bier of Thiodolf.  The wains and
their warders came up with them and drew a garth of the wains round
about the ring of men with the banners of the kindreds in their due
places.</p>
<p>There was the Wolf and the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Boar, the
Bear, and the Green-tree: the Willow-bush, the Gedd, the Water-bank
and the Wood-Ousel, the Steer, the Mallard and the Roe-deer: all these
were of the Mid-mark.  But of the Upper-mark were the Horse and
the Spear, and the Shield, and the Daybreak, and the Dale, and the Mountain,
and the Brook, and the Weasel, and the Cloud, and the Hart.</p>
<p>Of the Nether-mark were the Salmon, and the Lynx, and the Ling worm,
the Seal, the Stone, and the Sea-mew; the Buck-goat, the Apple-tree,
the Bull, the Adder, and the Crane.</p>
<p>There they stood in the hot sunshine three hours after noon; and
a little wind came out of the west and raised the pictured cloths upon
the banner-staves, so that the men could now see the images of the tokens
of their Houses and the Fathers of old time.</p>
<p>Now was there silence in the ring of men; but it opened presently
and through it came all-armed warriors bearing another bier, and lo,
Otter upon it, dead in his war-gear with many a grievous wound upon
his body.  For men had found him in an ingle of the wall of the
Great Roof, where he had been laid yesterday by the Romans when his
company and the Bearings with the Wormings made their onset: for the
Romans had noted his exceeding valour, and when they had driven off
the Goths some of them brought him dead inside their garth, for they
would know the name and dignity of so valorous a man.</p>
<p>So now they bore him to the mound where Thiodolf lay and set the
bier down beside Thiodolf’s, and the two War-dukes of the Markmen
lay there together: and when the warriors beheld that sight, they could
not forbear, but some groaned aloud, and some wept great tears, and
they clashed their swords on their shields and the sound of their sorrow
and their praise went up to the summer heavens.</p>
<p>Now the Hall-Sun holding aloft the waxen torch lifted up her voice
and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O warriors of the Wolfings, by the token of the
flame<br />
That here in my right hand flickers, ye are back at the House of the
Name,<br />
And there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing Roof,<br />
And the flame that the foemen quickened hath died out far aloof.<br />
Ye gleanings of the battle, lift up your hearts on high,<br />
For the House of the War-wise Wolfings and the Folk undoomed to die.<br />
But ye kindreds of the Markmen, the Wolfing guests are ye,<br />
And to-night we hold the high-tide, and great shall the feasting be,<br />
For to-day by the road that we know not a many wend their ways<br />
To the Gods and the ancient Fathers, and the hope of the latter days.<br />
And how shall their feet be cumbered if we tangle them with woe,<br />
And the heavy rain of sorrow drift o’er the road they go?<br />
They have toiled, and their toil was troublous to make the days to come;<br />
Use ye their gifts in gladness, lest they grieve for the Ancient Home!<br />
Now are our maids arraying that fire-scorched Hall of ours<br />
With the treasure of the Wolfings and the wealth of summer flowers,<br />
And this eve the work before you will be the Hall to throng<br />
And purge its walls of sorrow and quench its scathe and wrong.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She looked on the dead Thiodolf a moment, and then glanced from him
to Otter and spake again:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies
lie;<br />
Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by<br />
As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then<br />
As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men;<br />
Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell,<br />
Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell!<br />
Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one<br />
Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands
have done,<br />
Will not the word be with him, while yet your hearts are hot,<br />
Of our praise and long remembrance, and our love that dieth not?<br />
Then let him come up hither and speak the latest word<br />
O’er the limbs of the battle-weary and the hearts outworn with
the sword.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>She held her peace, and there was a stir in the ring of men: for
they who were anigh the Dayling banner saw an old warrior sitting on
a great black horse and fully armed.  He got slowly off his horse
and walked toward the ring of warriors, which opened before him; for
all knew him for Asmund the old, the war-wise warrior of the Daylings,
even he who had lamented over the Hauberk of Thiodolf.  He had
taken horse the day before, and had ridden toward the battle, but was
belated, and had come up with them of the wain-burg just as they had
crossed the water.</p>
<h2>CHAPTER XXXI—OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD
ARE LAID IN MOUND</h2>
<p>Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies
of the War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:</p>
<blockquote><p>“O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew
of old,<br />
When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold,<br />
And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons<br />
When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns,<br />
And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst.<br />
O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst,<br />
And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood<br />
That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood;<br />
And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away<br />
We abode the kindreds’ coming as the wet night bideth day?<br />
Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had,<br />
How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad?<br />
O fellow of the hall-glee!  O fellow of the field!<br />
Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield?<br />
I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall<br />
Are thy brother’s sons abiding and their children on thee call.</p>
<p>“O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein,<br />
This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win<br />
Good days and long endurance.  Who knoweth of his deed<br />
What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of
need?<br />
But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came<br />
And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame.<br />
In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man,<br />
No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan,<br />
But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o’er earth,<br />
With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter’s
face with grievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout. 
For indeed, as he had said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his
hall-fellow, though he was much younger than Asmund; and they had been
standing foot to foot in that battle wherein old Asmund’s sons
were slain by his side.</p>
<p>After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze upon
Thiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth
to speak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of
the bier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept
aloud.  Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness
of his heart, and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and
had not cowered down under them.  But at last he arose again, and
stood firmly on his feet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more
like the voice of a man in his prime than of an old man, he sang:</p>
<blockquote><p>   “Wild the storm is abroad<br />
   Of the edge of the sword!<br />
   Far on runneth the path<br />
   Of the war-stride of wrath!<br />
   The Gods hearken and hear<br />
   The long rumour of fear<br />
   From the meadows beneath<br />
   Running fierce o’er the heath,<br />
Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof<br />
And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o’er their roof,<br />
And quencheth their laughter and crieth on all,<br />
As it rolleth round rafter and beam of the Hall,<br />
Like the speech of the thunder-cloud tangled on high,<br />
When the mountain-halls sunder as dread goeth by.</p>
<p>   “So they throw the door wide<br />
   Of the Hall where they bide,<br />
   And to murmuring song<br />
   Turns that voice of the wrong,<br />
   And the Gods wait a-gaze<br />
   For that Wearer of Ways:<br />
   For they know he hath gone<br />
   A long journey alone.<br />
Now his feet are they hearkening, and now is he come,<br />
With his battle-wounds darkening the door of his home,<br />
Unbyrnied, unshielded, and lonely he stands,<br />
And the sword that he wielded is gone from his hands—<br />
Hands outstretched and bearing no spoil of the fight,<br />
As speechless, unfearing, he stands in their sight.</p>
<p>   “War-father gleams<br />
   Where the white light streams<br />
   Round kings of old<br />
   All red with gold,<br />
   And the Gods of the name<br />
   With joy aflame.<br />
   All the ancient of men<br />
   Grown glorious again:<br />
Till the Slains-father crieth aloud at the last:<br />
‘Here is one that belieth no hope of the past!<br />
No weapon, no treasure of earth doth he bear,<br />
No gift for the pleasure of Godhome to share;<br />
But life his hand bringeth, well cherished, most sweet;<br />
And hark! the Hall singeth the Folk-wolf to greet!’</p>
<p>   “As the rain of May<br />
   On earth’s happiest day,<br />
   So the fair flowers fall<br />
   On the sun-bright Hall<br />
   As the Gods rise up<br />
   With the greeting-cup,<br />
   And the welcoming crowd<br />
   Falls to murmur aloud.<br />
Then the God of Earth speaketh; sweet-worded he saith,<br />
‘Lo, the Sun ever seeketh Life fashioned of death;<br />
And to-day as he turneth the wide world about<br />
On Wolf-stead he yearneth; for there without doubt<br />
Dwells the death-fashioned story, the flower of all fame.<br />
Come hither new Glory, come Crown of the Name!’”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>All men’s hearts rose high as he sang, and when he had ended
arose the clang of sword and shield and went ringing down the meadow,
and the mighty shout of the Markmen’s joy rent the heavens: for
in sooth at that moment they saw Thiodolf, their champion, sitting among
the Gods on his golden chair, sweet savours around him, and sweet sound
of singing, and he himself bright-faced and merry as no man on earth
had seen him, for as joyous a man as he was.</p>
<p>But when the sound of their exultation sank down, the Hall-Sun spake
again:</p>
<blockquote><p>“Now wendeth the sun westward, and weary grows
the Earth<br />
Of all the long day’s doings in sorrow and in mirth;<br />
And as the great sun waneth, so doth my candle wane,<br />
And its flickering flame desireth to rest and die again.<br />
Therefore across the meadows wend we aback once more<br />
To the holy Roof of the Wolfings, the shrine of peace and war.<br />
And these that once have loved us, these warriors images,<br />
Shall sit amidst our feasting, and see, as the Father sees<br />
The works that men-folk fashion and the rest of toiling hands,<br />
When his eyes look down from the mountains and the heavens above all
lands,<br />
And up from the flowery meadows and the rolling deeps of the sea.<br />
There then at the feast with our champions familiar shall we be<br />
As oft we are with the Godfolk, when in story-rhymes and lays<br />
We laugh as we tell of their laughter, and their deeds of other days.</p>
<p>“Come then, ye sons of the kindreds who hither bore these twain!<br />
Take up their beds of glory, and fare we home again,<br />
And feast as men delivered from toil unmeet to bear,<br />
Who through the night are looking to the dawn-tide fresh and fair<br />
And the morn and the noon to follow, and the eve and its morrow morn,<br />
All the life of our deliv’rance and the fair days yet unborn.”</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So she spoke, and a murmur arose as those valiant men came forth
again.  But lo, now were they dight in fresh and fair raiment and
gleaming war-array.  For while all this was a-doing and a-saying,
they had gotten them by the Hall-Sun’s bidding unto the wains
of their Houses, and had arrayed them from the store therein.</p>
<p>So now they took up the biers, and the Hall-Sun led them, and they
went over the meadow before the throng of the kindreds, who followed
them duly ordered, each House about its banner; and when they were come
through the garth which the Romans had made to the Man’s-door
of the Hall, there were the women of the House freshly attired, who
cast flowers on the living men of the host, and on the dead War-dukes,
while they wept for pity of them.  So went the freemen of the Houses
into the Hall, following the Hall-Sun, and the bearers of the War-dukes;
but the banners abode without in the garth made by the Romans; and the
thralls arrayed a feast for themselves about the wains of the kindreds
in the open place before their cots and the smithying booths and the
byres.</p>
<p>And as the Hall-Sun went into the Hall, she thrust down the candle
against the threshold of the Man’s-door, and so quenched it.</p>
<p>Long were the kindreds entering, and when they were under the Roof
of the Wolfings, they looked and beheld Thiodolf set in his chair once
more, and Otter set beside him; and the chiefs and leaders of the House
took their places on the dais, those to whom it was due, and the Hall-Sun
sat under the wondrous Lamp her namesake.</p>
<p>Now was the glooming falling upon the earth; but the Hall was bright
within even as the Hall-Sun had promised.  Therein was set forth
the Treasure of the Wolfings; fair cloths were hung on the walls, goodly
broidered garments on the pillars: goodly brazen cauldrons and fair-carven
chests were set down in nooks where men could see them well, and vessels
of gold and silver were set all up and down the tables of the feast. 
The pillars also were wreathed with flowers, and flowers hung garlanded
from the walls over the precious hangings; sweet gums and spices were
burning in fair-wrought censers of brass, and so many candles were alight
under the Roof, that scarce had it looked more ablaze when the Romans
had litten the faggots therein for its burning amidst the hurry of the
Morning Battle.</p>
<p>There then they fell to feasting, hallowing in the high-tide of their
return with victory in their hands: and the dead corpses of Thiodolf
and Otter, clad in precious glistering raiment, looked down on them
from the High-seat, and the kindreds worshipped them and were glad;
and they drank the Cup to them before any others, were they Gods or
men.</p>
<p>But before the feast was hallowed in, came Ali the son of Grey up
to the High-seat, bearing something in his hand: and lo! it was Throng-plough,
which he had sought all over the field where the Markmen had been overcome
by the Romans, and had found it at last.  All men saw him how he
held it in his hand now as he went up to the Hall-Sun and spake to her. 
But she kissed the lad on the forehead, and took Throng-plough, and
wound the peace-strings round him and laid him on the board before Thiodolf;
and then she spake softly as if to herself, yet so that some heard her:</p>
<p>“O father, no more shalt thou draw Throng-plough from the sheath
till the battle is pitched in the last field of fight, and the sons
of the fruitful Earth and the sons of Day meet Swart and his children
at last, when the change of the World is at hand.  Maybe I shall
be with thee then: but now and in meanwhile, farewell, O mighty hand
of my father!”</p>
<p>Thus then the Houses of the Mark held their High-tide of Returning
under the Wolfing Roof with none to blame them or make them afraid:
and the moon rose and the summer night wore on towards dawn, and within
the Roof and without was there feasting and singing and harping and
the voice of abundant joyance: for without the Roof feasted the thralls
and the strangers, and the Roman war-captives.</p>
<p>But on the morrow the kindreds laid their dead men in mound betwixt
the Great Roof and the Wild-wood.  In one mound they laid them
with the War-dukes in their midst, and Arinbiorn by Otter’s right
side; and Thiodolf bore Throng-plough to mound with him.</p>
<p>But a little way from the mound of their own dead, toward the south
they laid the Romans, a great company, with their Captain in the midst:
and they heaped a long mound over them not right high; so that as years
wore, and the feet of men and beasts trod it down, it seemed a mere
swelling of the earth not made by men’s hands; and belike men
knew not how many bones of valiant men lay beneath; yet it had a name
which endured for long, to wit, the Battle-toft.</p>
<p>But the mound whereunder the Markmen were laid was called Thiodolf’s
Howe for many generations of men, and many are the tales told of him;
for men were loth to lose him and forget him: and in the latter days
men deemed of him that he sits in that Howe not dead but sleeping, with
Throng-plough laid before him on the board; and that when the sons of
the Goths are at their sorest need and the falcons cease to sit on the
ridge of the Great Roof of the Wolfings, he will wake and come forth
from the Howe for their helping.  But none have dared to break
open that Howe and behold what is therein.</p>
<p>But that swelling of the meadow where the Goths had their overthrow
at the hands of the Romans, and Thiodolf fell to earth unwounded, got
a name also, and was called the Swooning Knowe; and it kept that name
long after men had forgotten wherefore it was so called.</p>
<p>Now when all this was done, and the warriors of the kindreds were
departed each to his own stead, the Wolfings gathered in wheat-harvest,
and set themselves to make good all that the Romans had undone; and
they cleansed and mended their Great Roof and made it fairer than before,
and took from it all signs of the burning, save that they left the charring
and marks of the flames on one tie-beam, the second from the dais, for
a token of the past tidings.  Also when Harvest was over the Wolfings,
the Beamings, the Galtings, and the Elkings, set to work with the Bearings
to rebuild their Great Roof and the other dwellings and booths which
the Romans had burned; and right fair was that house.</p>
<p>But the Wolfings throve in field and fold, and they begat children
who grew up to be mighty men and deft of hand, and the House grew more
glorious year by year.</p>
<p>The tale tells not that the Romans ever fell on the Mark again; for
about this time they began to stay the spreading of their dominion,
or even to draw in its boundaries somewhat.</p>
<p>AND THIS IS ALL THAT THE TALE HAS TO TELL CONCERNING THE HOUSE OF
THE WOLFINGS AND THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK.</p>
<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2>
<p><a></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a>  Welsh
with these men means Foreign, and is used for all people of Europe who
are not of Gothic or Teutonic blood.</p>
<p><a></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a>  i.e. Foreigners:
see note <a></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a></p>
<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***</p>
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||||I||||The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris


The Project Gutenberg eBook, The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris


This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
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Title: The House of the Wolfings
 A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark Written in Prose and in Verse


Author: William Morris

Release Date: May 4, 2005 [eBook #2885]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***


Transcribed from the 1904 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk

THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS
A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND ALL THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK WRITTEN IN PROSE AND IN VERSE
by William Morris

Whiles in the early Winter eve
We pass amid the gathering night
Some homestead that we had to leave
Years past; and see its candles bright
Shine in the room beside the door
Where we were merry years agone
But now must never enter more,
As still the dark road drives us on.
E’en so the world of men may turn
At even of some hurried day
And see the ancient glimmer burn
Across the waste that hath no way;
Then with that faint light in its eyes
A while I bid it linger near
And nurse in wavering memories
The bitter-sweet of days that were.

CHAPTER I—THE DWELLINGS OF MID-MARK

The tale tells that in times long past there was a dwelling of men beside a great wood. Before it lay a plain, not very great, but which was, as it were, an isle in the sea of woodland, since even when you stood on the flat ground, you could see trees everywhere in the offing, though as for hills, you could scarce say that there were any; only swellings-up of the earth here and there, like the upheavings of the water that one sees at whiles going on amidst the eddies of a swift but deep stream.

On either side, to right and left the tree-girdle reached out toward the blue distance, thick close and unsundered, save where it and the plain which it begirdled was cleft amidmost by a river about as wide as the Thames at Sheene when the flood-tide is at its highest, but so swift and full of eddies, that it gave token of mountains not so far distant, though they were hidden. On each side moreover of the stream of this river was a wide space of stones, great and little, and in most places above this stony waste were banks of a few feet high, showing where the yearly winter flood was most commonly stayed.

You must know that this great clearing in the woodland was not a matter of haphazard; though the river had driven a road whereby men might fare on each side of its hurrying stream. It was men who had made that Isle in the woodland.

For many generations the folk that now dwelt there had learned the craft of iron-founding, so that they had no lack of wares of iron and steel, whether they were tools of handicraft or weapons for hunting and for war. It was the men of the Folk, who coming adown by the river-side had made that clearing. The tale tells not whence they came, but belike from the dales of the distant mountains, and from dales and mountains and plains further aloof and yet further.

Anyhow they came adown the river; on its waters on rafts, by its shores in wains or bestriding their horses or their kine, or afoot, till they had a mind to abide; and there as it fell they stayed their travel, and spread from each side of the river, and fought with the wood and its wild things, that they might make to themselves a dwelling-place on the face of the earth.

So they cut down the trees, and burned their stumps that the grass might grow sweet for their kine and sheep and horses; and they diked the river where need was all through the plain, and far up into the wild-wood to bridle the winter floods: and they made them boats to ferry them over, and to float down stream and track up-stream: they fished the river’s eddies also with net and with line; and drew drift from out of it of far-travelled wood and other matters; and the gravel of its shallows they washed for gold; and it became their friend, and they loved it, and gave it a name, and called it the Dusky, and the Glassy, and the Mirkwood-water; for the names of it changed with the generations of man.

There then in the clearing of the wood that for many years grew greater yearly they drave their beasts to pasture in the new-made meadows, where year by year the grass grew sweeter as the sun shone on it and the standing waters went from it; and now in the year whereof the tale telleth it was a fair and smiling plain, and no folk might have a better meadow.

But long before that had they learned the craft of tillage and taken heed to the acres and begun to grow wheat and rye thereon round about their roofs; the spade came into their hands, and they bethought them of the plough-share, and the tillage spread and grew, and there was no lack of bread.

In such wise that Folk had made an island amidst of the Mirkwood, and established a home there, and upheld it with manifold toil too long to tell of. And from the beginning this clearing in the wood they called the Mid-mark: for you shall know that men might journey up and down the Mirkwood-water, and half a day’s ride up or down they would come on another clearing or island in the woods, and these were the Upper-mark and the Nether-mark: and all these three were inhabited by men of one folk and one kindred, which was called the Mark-men, though of many branches was that stem of folk, who bore divers signs in battle and at the council whereby they might be known.

Now in the Mid-mark itself were many Houses of men; for by that word had they called for generations those who dwelt together under one token of kinship. The river ran from South to North, and both on the East side and on the West were there Houses of the Folk, and their habitations were shouldered up nigh unto the wood, so that ever betwixt them and the river was there a space of tillage and pasture.

Tells the tale of one such House, whose habitations were on the west side of the water, on a gentle slope of land, so that no flood higher than common might reach them. It was straight down to the river mostly that the land fell off, and on its downward-reaching slopes was the tillage, “the Acres,” as the men of that time always called tilled land; and beyond that was the meadow going fair and smooth, though with here and there a rising in it, down to the lips of the stony waste of the winter river.

Now the name of this House was the Wolfings, and they bore a Wolf on their banners, and their warriors were marked on the breast with the image of the Wolf, that they might be known for what they were if they fell in battle, and were stripped.

The house, that is to say the Roof, of the Wolfings of the Mid-mark stood on the topmost of the slope aforesaid with its back to the wild-wood and its face to the acres and the water. But you must know that in those days the men of one branch of kindred dwelt under one roof together, and had therein their place and dignity; nor were there many degrees amongst them as hath befallen afterwards, but all they of one blood were brethren and of equal dignity. Howbeit they had servants or thralls, men taken in battle, men of alien blood, though true it is that from time to time were some of such men taken into the House, and hailed as brethren of the blood.

Also (to make an end at once of these matters of kinship and affinity) the men of one House might not wed the women of their own House: to the Wolfing men all Wolfing women were as sisters: they must needs wed with the Hartings or the Elkings or the Bearings, or other such Houses of the Mark as were not so close akin to the blood of the Wolf; and this was a law that none dreamed of breaking. Thus then dwelt this Folk and such was their Custom.

As to the Roof of the Wolfings, it was a great hall and goodly, after the fashion of their folk and their day; not built of stone and lime, but framed of the goodliest trees of the wild-wood squared with the adze, and betwixt the framing filled with clay wattled with reeds. Long was that house, and at one end anigh the gable was the Man’s-door, not so high that a man might stand on the threshold and his helmcrest clear the lintel; for such was the custom, that a tall man must bow himself as he came into the hall; which custom maybe was a memory of the days of onslaught when the foemen were mostly wont to beset the hall; whereas in the days whereof the tale tells they drew out into the fields and fought unfenced; unless at whiles when the odds were over great, and then they drew their wains about them and were fenced by the wain-burg. At least it was from no niggardry that the door was made thus low, as might be seen by the fair and manifold carving of knots and dragons that was wrought above the lintel of the door for some three foot’s space. But a like door was there anigh the other gable-end, whereby the women entered, and it was called the Woman’s-door.

Near to the house on all sides except toward the wood were there many bowers and cots round about the penfolds and the byres: and these were booths for the stowage of wares, and for crafts and smithying that were unhandy to do in the house; and withal they were the dwelling-places of the thralls. And the lads and young men often abode there many days and were cherished there of the thralls that loved them, since at whiles they shunned the Great Roof that they might be the freer to come and go at their pleasure, and deal as they would. Thus was there a clustering on the slopes and bents betwixt the acres of the Wolfings and the wild-wood wherein dwelt the wolves.

As to the house within, two rows of pillars went down it endlong, fashioned of the mightiest trees that might be found, and each one fairly wrought with base and chapiter, and wreaths and knots, and fighting men and dragons; so that it was like a church of later days that has a nave and aisles: windows there were above the aisles, and a passage underneath the said windows in their roofs. In the aisles were the sleeping-places of the Folk, and down the nave under the crown of the roof were three hearths for the fires, and above each hearth a luffer or smoke-bearer to draw the smoke up when the fires were lighted. Forsooth on a bright winter afternoon it was strange to see the three columns of smoke going wavering up to the dimness of the mighty roof, and one maybe smitten athwart by the sunbeams. As for the timber of the roof itself and its framing, so exceeding great and high it was, that the tale tells how that none might see the fashion of it from the hall-floor unless he were to raise aloft a blazing faggot on a long pole: since no lack of timber was there among the men of the Mark.

At the end of the hall anigh the Man’s-door was the dais, and a table thereon set thwartwise of the hall; and in front of the dais was the noblest and greatest of the hearths; (but of the others one was in the very midmost, and another in the Woman’s-Chamber) and round about the dais, along the gable-wall, and hung from pillar to pillar were woven cloths pictured with images of ancient tales and the deeds of the Wolfings, and the deeds of the Gods from whence they came. And this was the fairest place of all the house and the best-beloved of the Folk, and especially of the older and the mightier men: and there were tales told, and songs sung, especially if they were new: and thereto also were messengers brought if any tidings were abroad: there also would the elders talk together about matters concerning the House or the Mid-mark or the whole Folk of the Markmen.

Yet you must not think that their solemn councils were held there, the folk-motes whereat it must be determined what to do and what to forbear doing; for according as such councils, (which they called Things) were of the House or of the Mid-mark or of the whole Folk, were they held each at the due Thing-steads in the Wood aloof from either acre or meadow, (as was the custom of our forefathers for long after) and at such Things would all the men of the House or the Mid-mark or the Folk be present man by man. And in each of these steads was there a Doomring wherein Doom was given by the neighbours chosen, (whom now we call the Jury) in matters between man and man; and no such doom of neighbours was given, and no such voice of the Folk proclaimed in any house or under any roof, nor even as aforesaid on the tilled acres or the depastured meadows. This was the custom of our forefathers, in memory, belike, of the days when as yet there was neither house nor tillage, nor flocks and herds, but the Earth’s face only and what freely grew thereon.

But over the dais there hung by chains and pulleys fastened to a tie-beam of the roof high aloft a wondrous lamp fashioned of glass; yet of no such glass as the folk made then and there, but of a fair and clear green like an emerald, and all done with figures and knots in gold, and strange beasts, and a warrior slaying a dragon, and the sun rising on the earth: nor did any tale tell whence this lamp came, but it was held as an ancient and holy thing by all the Markmen, and the kindred of the Wolf had it in charge to keep a light burning in it night and day for ever; and they appointed a maiden of their own kindred to that office; which damsel must needs be unwedded, since no wedded woman dwelling under that roof could be a Wolfing woman, but would needs be of the houses wherein the Wolfings wedded.

This lamp which burned ever was called the Hall-Sun, and the woman who had charge of it, and who was the fairest that might be found was called after it the Hall-Sun also.

At the other end of the hall was the Woman’s-Chamber, and therein were the looms and other gear for the carding and spinning of wool and the weaving of cloth.

Such was the Roof under which dwelt the kindred of the Wolfings; and the other kindreds of the Mid-mark had roofs like to it; and of these the chiefest were the Elkings, the Vallings, the Alftings, the Beamings, the Galtings, and the Bearings; who bore on their banners the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Tree, the Boar, and the Bear. But other lesser and newer kindreds there were than these: as for the Hartings above named, they were a kindred of the Upper-mark.

CHAPTER II—THE FLITTING OF THE WAR-ARROW

Tells the tale that it was an evening of summer, when the wheat was in the ear, but yet green; and the neat-herds were done driving the milch-kine to the byre, and the horseherds and the shepherds had made the night-shift, and the out-goers were riding two by two and one by one through the lanes between the wheat and the rye towards the meadow. Round the cots of the thralls were gathered knots of men and women both thralls and freemen, some talking together, some hearkening a song or a tale, some singing and some dancing together; and the children gambolling about from group to group with their shrill and tuneless voices, like young throstles who have not yet learned the song of their race. With these were mingled dogs, dun of colour, long of limb, sharp-nosed, gaunt and great; they took little heed of the children as they pulled them about in their play, but lay down, or loitered about, as though they had forgotten the chase and the wild-wood.

Merry was the folk with that fair tide, and the promise of the harvest, and the joy of life, and there was no weapon among them so close to the houses, save here and there the boar-spear of some herdman or herd-woman late come from the meadow.

Tall and for the most part comely were both men and women; the most of them light-haired and grey-eyed, with cheek-bones somewhat high; white of skin but for the sun’s burning, and the wind’s parching, and whereas they were tanned of a very ruddy and cheerful hue. But the thralls were some of them of a shorter and darker breed, black-haired also and dark-eyed, lighter of limb; sometimes better knit, but sometimes crookeder of leg and knottier of arm. But some also were of build and hue not much unlike to the freemen; and these doubtless came of some other Folk of the Goths which had given way in battle before the Men of the Mark, either they or their fathers.

Moreover some of the freemen were unlike their fellows and kindred, being slenderer and closer-knit, and black-haired, but grey-eyed withal; and amongst these were one or two who exceeded in beauty all others of the House.

Now the sun was set and the glooming was at point to begin and the shadowless twilight lay upon the earth. The nightingales on the borders of the wood sang ceaselessly from the scattered hazel-trees above the greensward where the grass was cropped down close by the nibbling of the rabbits; but in spite of their song and the divers voices of the men-folk about the houses, it was an evening on which sounds from aloof can be well heard, since noises carry far at such tides.

Suddenly they who were on the edges of those throngs and were the less noisy, held themselves as if to listen; and a group that had gathered about a minstrel to hear his story fell hearkening also round about the silenced and hearkening tale-teller: some of the dancers and singers noted them and in their turn stayed the dance and kept silence to hearken; and so from group to group spread the change, till all were straining their ears to hearken the tidings. Already the men of the night-shift had heard it, and the shepherds of them had turned about, and were trotting smartly back through the lanes of the tall wheat: but the horse-herds were now scarce seen on the darkening meadow, as they galloped on fast toward their herds to drive home the stallions. For what they had heard was the tidings of war.

There was a sound in the air as of a humble-bee close to the ear of one lying on a grassy bank; or whiles as of a cow afar in the meadow lowing in the afternoon when milking-time draws nigh: but it was ever shriller than the one, and fuller than the other; for it changed at whiles, though after the first sound of it, it did not rise or fall, because the eve was windless. You might hear at once that for all it was afar, it was a great and mighty sound; nor did any that hearkened doubt what it was, but all knew it for the blast of the great war-horn of the Elkings, whose Roof lay up Mirkwood-water next to the Roof of the Wolfings.

So those little throngs broke up at once; and all the freemen, and of the thralls a good many, flocked, both men and women, to the Man’s-door of the hall, and streamed in quietly and with little talk, as men knowing that they should hear all in due season.

Within under the Hall-Sun, amidst the woven stories of time past, sat the elders and chief warriors on the dais, and amidst of all a big strong man of forty winters, his dark beard a little grizzled, his eyes big and grey. Before him on the board lay the great War-horn of the Wolfings carved out of the tusk of a sea-whale of the North and with many devices on it and the Wolf amidst them all; its golden mouth-piece and rim wrought finely with flowers. There it abode the blowing, until the spoken word of some messenger should set forth the tidings borne on the air by the horn of the Elkings.

But the name of the dark-haired chief was Thiodolf (to wit Folk-wolf) and he was deemed the wisest man of the Wolfings, and the best man of his hands, and of heart most dauntless. Beside him sat the fair woman called the Hall-Sun; for she was his foster-daughter before men’s eyes; and she was black-haired and grey-eyed like to her fosterer, and never was woman fashioned fairer: she was young of years, scarce twenty winters old.

There sat the chiefs and elders on the dais, and round about stood the kindred intermingled with the thralls, and no man spake, for they were awaiting sure and certain tidings: and when all were come in who had a mind to, there was so great a silence in the hall, that the song of the nightingales on the wood-edge sounded clear and loud therein, and even the chink of the bats about the upper windows could be heard. Then amidst the hush of men-folk, and the sounds of the life of the earth came another sound that made all turn their eyes toward the door; and this was the pad-pad of one running on the trodden and summer-dried ground anigh the hall: it stopped for a moment at the Man’s-door, and the door opened, and the throng parted, making way for the man that entered and came hastily up to the midst of the table that stood on the dais athwart the hall, and stood there panting, holding forth in his outstretched hand something which not all could see in the dimness of the hall-twilight, but which all knew nevertheless. The man was young, lithe and slender, and had no raiment but linen breeches round his middle, and skin shoes on his feet. As he stood there gathering his breath for speech, Thiodolf stood up, and poured mead into a drinking horn and held it out towards the new-comer, and spake, but in rhyme and measure:

“Welcome, thou evening-farer, and holy be thine head,
Since thou hast sought unto us in the heart of the Wolfings’ stead;
Drink now of the horn of the mighty, and call a health if thou wilt
O’er the eddies of the mead-horn to the washing out of guilt.
For thou com’st to the peace of the Wolfings, and our very guest thou art,
And meseems as I behold thee, that I look on a child of the Hart.”

But the man put the horn from him with a hasty hand, and none said another word to him until he had gotten his breath again; and then he said:

“All hail ye Wood-Wolfs’ children! nought may I drink the wine,
For the mouth and the maw that I carry this eve are nought of mine;
And my feet are the feet of the people, since the word went forth that tide,
‘O Elf here of the Hartings, no longer shalt thou bide
In any house of the Markmen than to speak the word and wend,
Till all men know the tidings and thine errand hath an end.’
Behold, O Wolves, the token and say if it be true!
I bear the shaft of battle that is four-wise cloven through,
And its each end dipped in the blood-stream, both the iron and the horn,
And its midmost scathed with the fire; and the word that I have borne
Along with this war-token is, ‘Wolfings of the Mark
Whenso ye see the war-shaft, by the daylight or the dark,
Busk ye to battle faring, and leave all work undone
Save the gathering for the handplay at the rising of the sun.
Three days hence is the hosting, and thither bear along
Your wains and your kine for the slaughter lest the journey should be long.
For great is the Folk, saith the tidings, that against the Markmen come;
In a far off land is their dwelling, whenso they sit at home,
And Welsh {1} is their tongue, and we wot not of the word that is in their mouth,
As they march a many together from the cities of the South.’”

Therewith he held up yet for a minute the token of the war-arrow ragged and burnt and bloody; and turning about with it in his hand went his ways through the open door, none hindering; and when he was gone, it was as if the token were still in the air there against the heads of the living men, and the heads of the woven warriors, so intently had all gazed at it; and none doubted the tidings or the token. Then said Thiodolf:

“Forth will we Wolfing children, and cast a sound abroad:
The mouth of the sea-beast’s weapon shall speak the battle-word;
And ye warriors hearken and hasten, and dight the weed of war,
And then to acre and meadow wend ye adown no more,
For this work shall be for the women to drive our neat from the mead,
And to yoke the wains, and to load them as the men of war have need.”

Out then they streamed from the hall, and no man was left therein save the fair Hall-Sun sitting under the lamp whose name she bore. But to the highest of the slope they went, where was a mound made higher by man’s handiwork; thereon stood Thiodolf and handled the horn, turning his face toward the downward course of Mirkwood-water; and he set the horn to his lips, and blew a long blast, and then again, and yet again the third time; and all the sounds of the gathering night were hushed under the sound of the roaring of the war-horn of the Wolfings; and the Kin of the Beamings heard it as they sat in their hall, and they gat them ready to hearken to the bearer of the tidings who should follow on the sound of the war-blast.

But when the last sound of the horn had died away, then said Thiodolf:

“Now Wolfing children hearken, what the splintered War-shaft saith,
The fire scathed blood-stained aspen! we shall ride for life or death,
We warriors, a long journey with the herd and with the wain;
But unto this our homestead shall we wend us back again,
All the gleanings of the battle; and here for them that live
Shall stand the Roof of the Wolfings, and for them shall the meadow thrive,
And the acres give their increase in the harvest of the year;
Now is no long departing since the Hall-Sun bideth here
’Neath the holy Roof of the Fathers, and the place of the Wolfing kin,
And the feast of our glad returning shall yet be held therein.
Hear the bidding of the War-shaft! All men, both thralls and free,
’Twixt twenty winters and sixty, beneath the shield shall be,
And the hosting is at the Thing-stead, the Upper-mark anigh;
And we wend away to-morrow ere the Sun is noon-tide high.”

Therewith he stepped down from the mound, and went his way back to the hall; and manifold talk arose among the folk; and of the warriors some were already dight for the journey, but most not, and a many went their ways to see to their weapons and horses, and the rest back again into the hall.

By this time night had fallen, and between then and the dawning would be no darker hour, for the moon was just rising; a many of the horse-herds had done their business, and were now making their way back again through the lanes of the wheat, driving the stallions before them, who played together kicking, biting and squealing, paying but little heed to the standing corn on either side. Lights began to glitter now in the cots of the thralls, and brighter still in the stithies where already you might hear the hammers clinking on the anvils, as men fell to looking to their battle gear.

But the chief men and the women sat under their Roof on the eve of departure: and the tuns of mead were broached, and the horns filled and borne round by young maidens, and men ate and drank and were merry; and from time to time as some one of the warriors had done with giving heed to his weapons, he entered into the hall and fell into the company of those whom he loved most and by whom he was best beloved; and whiles they talked, and whiles they sang to the harp up and down that long house; and the moon risen high shone in at the windows, and there was much laughter and merriment, and talk of deeds of arms of the old days on the eve of that departure: till little by little weariness fell on them, and they went their ways to slumber, and the hall was fallen silent.

CHAPTER III—THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN

But yet sat Thiodolf under the Hall-Sun for a while as one in deep thought; till at last as he stirred, his sword clattered on him; and then he lifted up his eyes and looked down the hall and saw no man stirring, so he stood up and settled his raiment on him, and went forth, and so took his ways through the hall-door, as one who hath an errand.

The moonlight lay in a great flood on the grass without, and the dew was falling in the coldest hour of the night, and the earth smelled sweetly: the whole habitation was asleep now, and there was no sound to be known as the sound of any creature, save that from the distant meadow came the lowing of a cow that had lost her calf, and that a white owl was flitting about near the eaves of the Roof with her wild cry that sounded like the mocking of merriment now silent.

Thiodolf turned toward the wood, and walked steadily through the scattered hazel-trees, and thereby into the thick of the beech-trees, whose boles grew smooth and silver-grey, high and close-set: and so on and on he went as one going by a well-known path, though there was no path, till all the moonlight was quenched under the close roof of the beech-leaves, though yet for all the darkness, no man could go there and not feel that the roof was green above him. Still he went on in despite of the darkness, till at last there was a glimmer before him, that grew greater till he came unto a small wood-lawn whereon the turf grew again, though the grass was but thin, because little sunlight got to it, so close and thick were the tall trees round about it. In the heavens above it by now there was a light that was not all of the moon, though it might scarce be told whether that light were the memory of yesterday or the promise of to-morrow, since little of the heavens could be seen thence, save the crown of them, because of the tall tree-tops.

Nought looked Thiodolf either at the heavens above, or the trees, as he strode from off the husk-strewn floor of the beech wood on to the scanty grass of the lawn, but his eyes looked straight before him at that which was amidmost of the lawn: and little wonder was that; for there on a stone chair sat a woman exceeding fair, clad in glittering raiment, her hair lying as pale in the moonlight on the grey stone as the barley acres in the August night before the reaping-hook goes in amongst them. She sat there as though she were awaiting someone, and he made no stop nor stay, but went straight up to her, and took her in his arms, and kissed her mouth and her eyes, and she him again; and then he sat himself down beside her. But her eyes looked kindly on him as she said:

“O Thiodolf, hardy art thou, that thou hast no fear to take me in thine arms and to kiss me, as though thou hadst met in the meadow with a maiden of the Elkings: and I, who am a daughter of the Gods of thy kindred, and a Chooser of the Slain! Yea, and that upon the eve of battle and the dawn of thy departure to the stricken field!”

“O Wood-Sun,” he said “thou art the treasure of life that I found when I was young, and the love of life that I hold, now that my beard is grizzling. Since when did I fear thee, Wood-Sun? Did I fear thee when first I saw thee, and we stood amidst the hazelled field, we twain living amongst the slain? But my sword was red with the blood of the foe, and my raiment with mine own blood; and I was a-weary with the day’s work, and sick with many strokes, and methought I was fainting into death. And there thou wert before me, full of life and ruddy and smiling both lips and eyes; thy raiment clean and clear, thine hands stained with blood: then didst thou take me by my bloody and weary hand, and didst kiss my lips grown ashen pale, and thou saidst ‘Come with me.’ And I strove to go, and might not; so many and sore were my hurts. Then amidst my sickness and my weariness was I merry; for I said to myself, This is the death of the warrior, and it is exceeding sweet. What meaneth it? Folk said of me; he is over young to meet the foeman; yet am I not over young to die?”

Therewith he laughed out amid the wild-wood, and his speech became song, and he said:

“We wrought in the ring of the hazels, and the wine of war we drank:
From the tide when the sun stood highest to the hour wherein she sank:
And three kings came against me, the mightiest of the Huns,
The evil-eyed in battle, the swift-foot wily ones;
And they gnashed their teeth against me, and they gnawed on the shield-rims there,
On that afternoon of summer, in the high-tide of the year.
Keen-eyed I gazed about me, and I saw the clouds draw up
Till the heavens were dark as the hollow of a wine-stained iron cup,
And the wild-deer lay unfeeding on the grass of the forest glades,
And all earth was scared with the thunder above our clashing blades.

“Then sank a King before me, and on fell the other twain,
And I tossed up the reddened sword-blade in the gathered rush of the rain
And the blood and the water blended, and fragrant grew the earth.

“There long I turned and twisted within the battle-girth
Before those bears of onset: while out from the grey world streamed
The broad red lash of the lightening and in our byrnies gleamed.
And long I leapt and laboured in that garland of the fight
’Mid the blue blades and the lightening; but ere the sky grew light
The second of the Hun-kings on the rain-drenched daisies lay;
And we twain with the battle blinded a little while made stay,
And leaning on our sword-hilts each on the other gazed.

“Then the rain grew less, and one corner of the veil of clouds was raised,
And as from the broidered covering gleams out the shoulder white
Of the bed-mate of the warrior when on his wedding night
He layeth his hand to the linen; so, down there in the west
Gleamed out the naked heaven: but the wrath rose up in my breast,
And the sword in my hand rose with it, and I leaped and hewed at the Hun;
And from him too flared the war-flame, and the blades danced bright in the sun
Come back to the earth for a little before the ending of day.

“There then with all that was in him did the Hun play out the play,
Till he fell, and left me tottering, and I turned my feet to wend
To the place of the mound of the mighty, the gate of the way without end.
And there thou wert. How was it, thou Chooser of the Slain,
Did I die in thine arms, and thereafter did thy mouth-kiss wake me again?”

Ere the last sound of his voice was done she turned and kissed him; and then she said; “Never hadst thou a fear and thine heart is full of hardihood.”

Then he said:

“’Tis the hardy heart, beloved, that keepeth me alive,
As the king-leek in the garden by the rain and the sun doth thrive,
So I thrive by the praise of the people; it is blent with my drink and my meat;
As I slumber in the night-tide it laps me soft and sweet;
And through the chamber window when I waken in the morn
With the wind of the sun’s arising from the meadow is it borne
And biddeth me remember that yet I live on earth:
Then I rise and my might is with me, and fills my heart with mirth,
As I think of the praise of the people; and all this joy I win
By the deeds that my heart commandeth and the hope that lieth therein.”

“Yea,” she said, “but day runneth ever on the heels of day, and there are many and many days; and betwixt them do they carry eld.”

“Yet art thou no older than in days bygone,” said he. “Is it so, O Daughter of the Gods, that thou wert never born, but wert from before the framing of the mountains, from the beginning of all things?”

But she said:

“Nay, nay; I began, I was born; although it may be indeed
That not on the hills of the earth I sprang from the godhead’s seed.
And e’en as my birth and my waxing shall be my waning and end.
But thou on many an errand, to many a field dost wend
Where the bow at adventure bended, or the fleeing dastard’s spear
Oft lulleth the mirth of the mighty. Now me thou dost not fear,
Yet fear with me, beloved, for the mighty Maid I fear;
And Doom is her name, and full often she maketh me afraid
And even now meseemeth on my life her hand is laid.”

But he laughed and said:

“In what land is she abiding? Is she near or far away?
Will she draw up close beside me in the press of the battle play?
And if then I may not smite her ’midst the warriors of the field
With the pale blade of my fathers, will she bide the shove of my shield?”

But sadly she sang in answer:

“In many a stead Doom dwelleth, nor sleepeth day nor night:
The rim of the bowl she kisseth, and beareth the chambering light
When the kings of men wend happy to the bride-bed from the board.
It is little to say that she wendeth the edge of the grinded sword,
When about the house half builded she hangeth many a day;
The ship from the strand she shoveth, and on his wonted way
By the mountain-hunter fareth where his foot ne’er failed before:
She is where the high bank crumbles at last on the river’s shore:
The mower’s scythe she whetteth; and lulleth the shepherd to sleep
Where the deadly ling-worm wakeneth in the desert of the sheep.
Now we that come of the God-kin of her redes for ourselves we wot,
But her will with the lives of men-folk and their ending know we not.
So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of Doom and her deed,
But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping of my need.
Or else—Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die
In the flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on high?”

But Thiodolf answered her:

“I have deemed, and long have I deemed that this is my second life,
That my first one waned with my wounding when thou cam’st to the ring of strife.
For when in thine arms I wakened on the hazelled field of yore,
Meseemed I had newly arisen to a world I knew no more,
So much had all things brightened on that dewy dawn of day.
It was dark dull death that I looked for when my thought had died away.
It was lovely life that I woke to; and from that day henceforth
My joy of the life of man-folk was manifolded of worth.
Far fairer the fields of the morning than I had known them erst,
And the acres where I wended, and the corn with its half-slaked thirst;
And the noble Roof of the Wolfings, and the hawks that sat thereon;
And the bodies of my kindred whose deliverance I had won;
And the glimmering of the Hall-Sun in the dusky house of old;
And my name in the mouth of the maidens, and the praises of the bold,
As I sat in my battle-raiment, and the ruddy spear well steeled
Leaned ’gainst my side war-battered, and the wounds thine hand had healed.
Yea, from that morn thenceforward has my life been good indeed,
The gain of to-day was goodly, and good to-morrow’s need,
And good the whirl of the battle, and the broil I wielded there,
Till I fashioned the ordered onset, and the unhoped victory fair.
And good were the days thereafter of utter deedless rest
And the prattle of thy daughter, and her hands on my unmailed breast.
Ah good is the life thou hast given, the life that mine hands have won.
And where shall be the ending till the world is all undone?
Here sit we twain together, and both we in Godhead clad,
We twain of the Wolfing kindred, and each of the other glad.”

But she answered, and her face grew darker withal:

“O mighty man and joyous, art thou of the Wolfing kin?
’Twas no evil deed when we mingled, nor lieth doom therein.
Thou lovely man, thou black-haired, thou shalt die and have done no ill.
Fame-crowned are the deeds of thy doing, and the mouths of men they fill.
Thou betterer of the Godfolk, enduring is thy fame:
Yet as a painted image of a dream is thy dreaded name.
Of an alien folk thou comest, that we twain might be one indeed.
Thou shalt die one day. So hearken, to help me at my need.”

His face grew troubled and he said: “What is this word that I am no chief of the Wolfings?”

“Nay,” she said, “but better than they. Look thou on the face of our daughter the Hall-Sun, thy daughter and mine: favoureth she at all of me?”

He laughed: “Yea, whereas she is fair, but not otherwise. This is a hard saying, that I dwell among an alien kindred, and it wotteth not thereof. Why hast thou not told me hereof before?”

She said: “It needed not to tell thee because thy day was waxing, as now it waneth. Once more I bid thee hearken and do my bidding though it be hard to thee.”

He answered: “Even so will I as much as I may; and thus wise must thou look upon it, that I love life, and fear not death.”

Then she spake, and again her words fell into rhyme:

“In forty fights hast thou foughten, and been worsted but in four;
And I looked on and was merry; and ever more and more
Wert thou dear to the heart of the Wood-Sun, and the Chooser of the Slain.
But now whereas ye are wending with slaughter-herd and wain
To meet a folk that ye know not, a wonder, a peerless foe,
I fear for thy glory’s waning, and I see thee lying alow.”

Then he brake in: “Herein is little shame to be worsted by the might of the mightiest: if this so mighty folk sheareth a limb off the tree of my fame, yet shall it wax again.”

But she sang:

“In forty fights hast thou foughten, and beside thee who but I
Beheld the wind-tossed banners, and saw the aspen fly?
But to-day to thy war I wend not, for Weird withholdeth me
And sore my heart forebodeth for the battle that shall be.
To-day with thee I wend not; so I feared, and lo my feet,
That are wont to the woodland girdle of the acres of the wheat,
For thee among strange people and the foeman’s throng have trod,
And I tell thee their banner of battle is a wise and a mighty God.
For these are the folk of the cities, and in wondrous wise they dwell
’Mid confusion of heaped houses, dim and black as the face of hell;
Though therefrom rise roofs most goodly, where their captains and their kings
Dwell amidst the walls of marble in abundance of fair things;
And ’mid these, nor worser nor better, but builded otherwise
Stand the Houses of the Fathers, and the hidden mysteries.
And as close as are the tree-trunks that within the beech-wood thrive
E’en so many are their pillars; and therein like men alive
Stand the images of god-folk in such raiment as they wore
In the years before the cities and the hidden days of yore.
Ah for the gold that I gazed on! and their store of battle gear,
And strange engines that I knew not, or the end for which they were.
Ah for the ordered wisdom of the war-array of these,
And the folks that are sitting about them in dumb down-trodden peace!
So I thought now fareth war-ward my well-beloved friend,
And the weird of the Gods hath doomed it that no more with him may I wend!
Woe’s me for the war of the Wolfings wherefrom I am sundered apart,
And the fruitless death of the war-wise, and the doom of the hardy heart!”

Then he answered, and his eyes grew kind as he looked on her:

“For thy fair love I thank thee, and thy faithful word, O friend!
But how might it otherwise happen but we twain must meet in the end,
The God of this mighty people and the Markmen and their kin?
Lo, this is the weird of the world, and what may we do herein?”

Then mirth came into her face again as she said:

“Who wotteth of Weird, and what she is till the weird is accomplished? Long hath it been my weird to love thee and to fashion deeds for thee as I may; nor will I depart from it now.” And she sang:

“Keen-edged is the sword of the city, and bitter is its spear,
But thy breast in the battle, beloved, hath a wall of the stithy’s gear.
What now is thy wont in the handplay with the helm and the hauberk of rings?
Farest thou as the thrall and the cot-carle, or clad in the raiment of kings?”

He started, and his face reddened as he answered:

“O Wood-Sun thou wottest our battle and the way wherein we fare:
That oft at the battle’s beginning the helm and the hauberk we bear;
Lest the shaft of the fleeing coward or the bow at adventure bent
Should slay us ere the need be, ere our might be given and spent.
Yet oft ere the fight is over, and Doom hath scattered the foe,
No leader of the people by his war-gear shall ye know,
But by his hurts the rather, from the cot-carle and the thrall:
For when all is done that a man may, ’tis the hour for a man to fall.”

She yet smiled as she said in answer:

“O Folk-wolf, heed and hearken; for when shall thy life be spent
And the Folk wherein thou dwellest with thy death be well content?
Whenso folk need the fire, do they hew the apple-tree,
And burn the Mother of Blossom and the fruit that is to be?
Or me wilt thou bid to thy grave-mound because thy battle-wrath
May nothing more be bridled than the whirl wind on his path?
So hearken and do my bidding, for the hauberk shalt thou bear
E’en when the other warriors cast off their battle-gear.
So come thou, come unwounded from the war-field of the south,
And sit with me in the beech-wood, and kiss me, eyes and mouth.”

And she kissed him in very deed, and made much of him, and fawned on him, and laid her hand on his breast, and he was soft and blithe with her, but at last he laughed and said:

“God’s Daughter, long hast thou lived, and many a matter seen,
And men full often grieving for the deed that might have been;
But here my heart thou wheedlest as a maid of tender years
When first in the arms of her darling the horn of war she hears.
Thou knowest the axe to be heavy, and the sword, how keen it is;
But that Doom of which thou hast spoken, wilt thou not tell of this,
God’s Daughter, how it sheareth, and how it breaketh through
Each wall that the warrior buildeth, yea all deeds that he may do?
What might in the hammer’s leavings, in the fire’s thrall shall abide
To turn that Folks’ o’erwhelmer from the fated warrior’s side?”

Then she laughed in her turn, and loudly; but so sweetly that the sound of her voice mingled with the first song of a newly awakened wood-thrush sitting on a rowan twig on the edge of the Wood-lawn. But she said:

“Yea, I that am God’s Daughter may tell thee never a whit
From what land cometh the hauberk nor what smith smithied it,
That thou shalt wear in the handplay from the first stroke to the last;
But this thereof I tell thee, that it holdeth firm and fast
The life of the body it lappeth, if the gift of the Godfolk it be.
Lo this is the yoke-mate of doom, and the gift of me unto thee.”

Then she leaned down from the stone whereon they sat, and her hand was in the dewy grass for a little, and then it lifted up a dark grey rippling coat of rings; and she straightened herself in the seat again, and laid that hauberk on the knees of Thiodolf, and he put his hand to it, and turned it about, while he pondered long: then at last he said:

“What evil thing abideth with this warder of the strife,
This burg and treasure chamber for the hoarding of my life?
For this is the work of the dwarfs, and no kindly kin of the earth;
And all we fear the dwarf-kin and their anger and sorrow and mirth.”

She cast her arms about him and fondled him, and her voice grew sweeter than the voice of any mortal thing as she answered:

“No ill for thee, beloved, or for me in the hauberk lies;
No sundering grief is in it, no lonely miseries.
But we shall abide together, and that new life I gave,
For a long while yet henceforward we twain its joy shall have.
Yea, if thou dost my bidding to wear my gift in the fight
No hunter of the wild-wood at the changing of the night
Shall see my shape on thy grave-mound or my tears in the morning find
With the dew of the morning mingled; nor with the evening wind
Shall my body pass the shepherd as he wandereth in the mead
And fill him with forebodings on the eve of the Wolfings’ need.
Nor the horse-herd wake in the midnight and hear my fateful cry;
Nor yet shall the Wolfing women hear words on the wind go by
As they weave and spin the night down when the House is gone to the war,
And weep for the swains they wedded and the children that they bore.
Yea do my bidding, O Folk-wolf, lest a grief of the Gods should weigh
On the ancient House of the Wolfings and my death o’ercloud its day.”

And still she clung about him, while he spake no word of yea or nay: but at the last he let himself glide wholly into her arms, and the dwarf-wrought hauberk fell from his knees and lay on the grass.

So they abode together in that wood-lawn till the twilight was long gone, and the sun arisen for some while. And when Thiodolf stepped out of the beech-wood into the broad sunshine dappled with the shadow of the leaves of the hazels moving gently in the fresh morning air, he was covered from the neck to the knee by a hauberk of rings dark and grey and gleaming, fashioned by the dwarfs of ancient days.

CHAPTER IV—THE HOUSE FARETH TO THE WAR

Now when Thiodolf came back to the habitations of the kindred the whole House was astir, both thrall-men and women, and free women hurrying from cot to stithy, and from stithy to hall bearing the last of the war-gear or raiment for the fighting-men. But they for their part were some standing about anigh the Man’s-door, some sitting gravely within the hall, some watching the hurry of the thralls and women from the midmost of the open space amidst of the habitations, whereon there stood yet certain wains which were belated: for the most of the wains were now standing with the oxen already yoked to them down in the meadow past the acres, encircled by a confused throng of kine and horses and thrall-folk, for thither had all the beasts for the slaughter, and the horses for the warriors been brought; and there were the horses tethered or held by the thralls; some indeed were already saddled and bridled, and on others were the thralls doing the harness.

But as for the wains of the Markmen, they were stoutly framed of ash-tree with panels of aspen, and they were broad-wheeled so that they might go over rough and smooth. They had high tilts over them well framed of willow-poles covered over with squares of black felt over-lapping like shingles; which felt they made of the rough of their fleeces, for they had many sheep. And these wains were to them for houses upon the way if need were, and therein as now were stored their meal and their war-store and after fight they would flit their wounded men in them, such as were too sorely hurt to back a horse: nor must it be hidden that whiles they looked to bring back with them the treasure of the south. Moreover the folk if they were worsted in any battle, instead of fleeing without more done, would often draw back fighting into a garth made by these wains, and guarded by some of their thralls; and there would abide the onset of those who had thrust them back in the field. And this garth they called the Wain-burg.

So now stood three of these wains aforesaid belated amidst of the habitations of the House, their yoke-beasts standing or lying down unharnessed as yet to them: but in the very midst of that place was a wain unlike to them; smaller than they but higher; square of shape as to the floor of it; built lighter than they, yet far stronger; as the warrior is stronger than the big carle and trencher-licker that loiters about the hall; and from the midst of this wain arose a mast made of a tall straight fir-tree, and thereon hung the banner of the Wolfings, wherein was wrought the image of the Wolf, but red of hue as a token of war, and with his mouth open and gaping upon the foemen. Also whereas the other wains were drawn by mere oxen, and those of divers colours, as chance would have it, the wain of the banner was drawn by ten black bulls of the mightiest of the herd, deep-dewlapped, high-crested and curly-browed; and their harness was decked with gold, and so was the wain itself, and the woodwork of it painted red with vermilion. There then stood the Banner of the House of the Wolfings awaiting the departure of the warriors to the hosting.

So Thiodolf stood on the top of the bent beside that same mound wherefrom he had blown the War-horn yester-eve, and which was called the Hill of Speech, and he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around him; and even therewith the carles fell to yoking the beasts to the belated wains, and the warriors gathered together from out of the mixed throngs, and came from the Roof and the Man’s-door and all set their faces toward the Hill of Speech.

So Thiodolf knew that all was ready for departure, and it wanted but an hour of high-noon; so he turned about and went into the Hall, and there found his shield and his spear hanging in his sleeping place beside the hauberk he was wont to wear; then he looked, as one striving with thought, at his empty hauberk and his own body covered with the dwarf-wrought rings; nor did his face change as he took his shield and his spear and turned away. Then he went to the dais and there sat his foster-daughter (as men deemed her) sitting amidst of it as yester-eve, and now arrayed in a garment of fine white wool, on the breast whereof were wrought in gold two beasts ramping up against a fire-altar whereon a flame flickered; and on the skirts and the hems were other devices, of wolves chasing deer, and men shooting with the bow; and that garment was an ancient treasure; but she had a broad girdle of gold and gems about her middle, and on her arms and neck she wore great gold rings wrought delicately. By then there were few save the Hall-Sun under the Roof, and they but the oldest of the women, or a few very old men, and some who were ailing and might not go abroad. But before her on the thwart table lay the Great War-horn awaiting the coming of Thiodolf to give signal of departure.

Then went Thiodolf to the Hall-Sun and kissed and embraced her fondly, and she gave the horn into his hands, and he went forth and up on to the Hill of Speech, and blew thence a short blast on the horn, and then came all the Warriors flocking to the Hill of Speech, each man stark in his harness, alert and joyous.

Then presently through the Man’s-door came the Hall-Sun in that ancient garment, which fell straight and stiff down to her ancles as she stepped lightly and slowly along, her head crowned with a garland of eglantine. In her right hand also she held a great torch of wax lighted, whose flame amidst the bright sunlight looked like a wavering leaf of vermilion.

The warriors saw her, and made a lane for her, and she made her way through it up to the Hill of Speech, and she went up to the top of it and stood there holding the lighted candle in her hand, so that all might see it. Then suddenly was there as great a silence as there may be on a forenoon of summer; for even the thralls down in the meadow had noted what was toward, and ceased their talking and shouting, for as far off as they were, since they could see that the Hall-Sun stood on the Hill of Speech, for the wood was dark behind her; so they knew the Farewell Flame was lighted, and that the maiden would speak; and to all men her speech was a boding of good or of ill.

So she began in a sweet voice yet clear and far-reaching:

“O Warriors of the Wolfings by the token of the flame
That here in my right hand flickers, come aback to the House of the Name!
For there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing roof,
And this flame is litten from it, nor as now shall it fare aloof
Till again it seeth the mighty and the men to be gleaned from the fight.
So wend ye as weird willeth and let your hearts be light;
For through your days of battle all the deeds of our days shall be fair.
To-morrow beginneth the haysel, as if every carle were here;
And who knoweth ere your returning but the hook shall smite the corn?
But the kine shall go down to the meadow as their wont is every morn,
And each eve shall come back to the byre; and the mares and foals afield
Shall ever be heeded duly; and all things shall their increase yield.
And if it shall befal us that hither cometh a foe
Here have we swains of the shepherds good players with the bow,
And old men battle-crafty whose might is nowise spent,
And women fell and fearless well wont to tread the bent
Amid the sheep and the oxen; and their hands are hard with the spear
And their arms are strong and stalwart the battle shield to bear;
And store of weapons have we and the mighty walls of the stead;
And the Roof shall abide you steadfast with the Hall-Sun overhead.
Lo here I quench this candle that is lit from the Hall-Sun’s flame
Which unto the Wild-wood clearing with the kin of the Wolfings came
And shall wend with their departure to the limits of the earth;
Nor again shall the torch be lighted till in sorrow or in mirth,
Overthrown or overthrowing, ye come aback once more,
And bid me bear the candle before the Wolf of War.”

As she spake the word she turned the candle downward, and thrust it against the grass and quenched it indeed; but the whole throng of warriors turned about, for the bulls of the banner-wain lowered their heads in the yokes and began to draw, lowing mightily; and the wain creaked and moved on, and all the men-at-arms followed after, and down they went through the lanes of the corn, and a many women and children and old men went down into the mead with them.

In their hearts they all wondered what the Hall-Sun’s words might signify; for she had told them nought about the battles to be, saving that some should come back to the Mid-mark; whereas aforetime somewhat would she foretell to them concerning the fortune of the fight, and now had she said to them nothing but what their own hearts told them. Nevertheless they bore their crests high as they followed the Wolf down into the meadow, where all was now ready for departure. There they arrayed themselves and went down to the lip of Mirkwood-water; and such was their array that the banner went first, save that a band of fully armed men went before it; and behind it and about were the others as well arrayed as they. Then went the wains that bore their munition, with armed carles of the thrall-folk about them, who were ever the guard of the wains, and should never leave them night or day; and lastly went the great band of the warriors and the rest of the thralls with them.

As to their war-gear, all the freemen had helms of some kind, but not all of iron or steel; for some bore helms fashioned of horse-hide and bull-hide covered over with the similitude of a Wolf’s muzzle; nor were these ill-defence against a sword-stroke. Shields they all had, and all these had the image of the Wolf marked on them, but for many their thralls bore them on the journey. As to their body-armour some carried long byrnies of ring-mail, some coats of leather covered with splinters of horn laid like the shingles of a roof, and some skin-coats only: whereof indeed there were some of which tales went that they were better than the smith’s hammer-work, because they had had spells sung over them to keep out steel or iron.

But for their weapons, they bore spears with shafts not very long, some eight feet of our measure; and axes heavy and long-shafted; and bills with great and broad heads; and some few, but not many of the kindred were bowmen, and every freeman was girt with a sword; but of the swords some were long and two-edged, some short and heavy, cutting on one edge, and these were of the kind which they and our forefathers long after called ‘sax.’ Thus were the freemen arrayed.

But for the thralls, there were many bows among them, especially among those who were of blood alien from the Goths; the others bore short spears, and feathered broad arrows, and clubs bound with iron, and knives and axes, but not every man of them had a sword. Few iron helms they had and no ringed byrnies, but most had a buckler at their backs with no sign or symbol on it.

Thus then set forth the fighting men of the House of the Wolf toward the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark where the hosting was to be, and by then they were moving up along the side of Mirkwood-water it was somewhat past high-noon.

But the stay-at-home people who had come down with them to the meadow lingered long in that place; and much foreboding there was among them of evil to come; and of the old folk, some remembered tales of the past days of the Markmen, and how they had come from the ends of the earth, and the mountains where none dwell now but the Gods of their kindreds; and many of these tales told of their woes and their wars as they went from river to river and from wild-wood to wild-wood before they had established their Houses in the Mark, and fallen to dwelling there season by season and year by year whether the days were good or ill. And it fell into their hearts that now at last mayhappen was their abiding wearing out to an end, and that the day should soon be when they should have to bear the Hall-Sun through the wild-wood, and seek a new dwelling-place afar from the troubling of these newly arisen Welsh foemen.

And so those of them who could not rid themselves of this foreboding were somewhat heavier of heart than their wont was when the House went to the War. For long had they abided there in the Mark, and the life was sweet to them which they knew, and the life which they knew not was bitter to them: and Mirkwood-water was become as a God to them no less than to their fathers of old time; nor lesser was the mead where fed the horses that they loved and the kine that they had reared, and the sheep that they guarded from the Wolf of the Wild-wood: and they worshipped the kind acres which they themselves and their fathers had made fruitful, wedding them to the seasons of seed-time and harvest, that the birth that came from them might become a part of the kindred of the Wolf, and the joy and might of past springs and summers might run in the blood of the Wolfing children. And a dear God indeed to them was the Roof of the Kindred, that their fathers had built and that they yet warded against the fire and the lightening and the wind and the snow, and the passing of the days that devour and the years that heap the dust over the work of men. They thought of how it had stood, and seen so many generations of men come and go; how often it had welcomed the new-born babe, and given farewell to the old man: how many secrets of the past it knew; how many tales which men of the present had forgotten, but which yet mayhap men of times to come should learn of it; for to them yet living it had spoken time and again, and had told them what their fathers had not told them, and it held the memories of the generations and the very life of the Wolfings and their hopes for the days to be.

Thus these poor people thought of the Gods whom they worshipped, and the friends whom they loved, and could not choose but be heavy-hearted when they thought that the wild-wood was awaiting them to swallow all up, and take away from them their Gods and their friends and the mirth of their life, and burden them with hunger and thirst and weariness, that their children might begin once more to build the House and establish the dwelling, and call new places by old names, and worship new Gods with the ancient worship.

Such imaginations of trouble then were in the hearts of the stay-at-homes of the Wolfings; the tale tells not indeed that all had such forebodings, but chiefly the old folk who were nursing the end of their life-days amidst the cherishing Kindred of the House.

But now they were beginning to turn them back again to the habitations, and a thin stream was flowing through the acres, when they heard a confused sound drawing near blended of horns and the lowing of beasts and the shouting of men; and they looked and saw a throng of brightly clad men coming up stream alongside of Mirkwood-water; and they were not afraid, for they knew that it must be some other company of the Markmen journeying to the hosting of the Folk: and presently they saw that it was the House of the Beamings following their banner on the way to the Thing-stead. But when the new-comers saw the throng out in the meads, some of their young men pricked on their horses and galloped on past the women and old men, to whom they threw a greeting, as they ran past to catch up with the bands of the Wolfings; for between the two houses was there affinity, and much good liking lay between them; and the stay-at-homes, many of them, lingered yet till the main body of the Beamings came with their banner: and their array was much like to that of the Wolfings, but gayer; for whereas it pleased the latter to darken all their war-gear to the colour of the grey Wolf, the Beamings polished all their gear as bright as might be, and their raiment also was mostly bright green of hue and much beflowered; and the sign on their banner was a green leafy tree, and the wain was drawn by great white bulls.

So when their company drew anear to the throng of the stay-at-homes they went to meet and greet each other, and tell tidings to each other; but their banner held steadily onward amidst their converse, and in a little while they followed it, for the way was long to the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark.

So passed away the fighting men by the side of Mirkwood-water, and the throng of the stay-at-homes melted slowly from the meadow and trickled along through the acres to the habitations of the Wolfings, and there they fell to doing whatso of work or play came to their hands.

CHAPTER V—CONCERNING THE HALL-SUN

When the warriors and the others had gone down to the mead, the Hall-Sun was left standing on the Hill of Speech, and she stood there till she saw the host in due array going on its ways dark and bright and beautiful; then she made as if to turn aback to the Great Roof; but all at once it seemed to her as if something held her back, as if her will to move had departed from her, and that she could not put one foot before the other. So she lingered on the Hill, and the quenched candle fell from her hand, and presently she sank adown on the grass and sat there with the face of one thinking intently. Yet was it with her that a thousand thoughts were in her mind at once and no one of them uppermost, and images of what had been and what then was flickered about in her brain, and betwixt them were engendered images of things to be, but unstable and not to be trowed in. So sat the Hall-Sun on the Hill of Speech lost in a dream of the day, whose stories were as little clear as those of a night-dream.

But as she sat musing thus, came to her a woman exceeding old to look on, whom she knew not as one of the kindred or a thrall; and this carline greeted her by the name of Hall-Sun and said:

“Hail, Hall-Sun of the Markmen! how fares it now with thee
When the whelps of the Woodbeast wander with the Leafage of the Tree
All up the Mirkwood-water to seek what they shall find,
The oak-boles of the battle and the war-wood stark and blind?”

Then answered the maiden:

“It fares with me, O mother, that my soul would fain go forth
To behold the ways of the battle, and the praise of the warriors’ worth.
But yet is it held entangled in a maze of many a thing,
As the low-grown bramble holdeth the brake-shoots of the Spring.
I think of the thing that hath been, but no shape is in my thought;
I think of the day that passeth, and its story comes to nought.
I think of the days that shall be, nor shape I any tale.
I will hearken thee, O mother, if hearkening may avail.”

The Carline gazed at her with dark eyes that shone brightly from amidst her brown wrinkled face: then she sat herself down beside her and spake:

“From a far folk have I wandered and I come of an alien blood,
But I know all tales of the Wolfings and their evil and their good;
And when I heard of thy fairness, thereof I heard it said,
That for thee should be never a bridal nor a place in the warrior’s bed.”

The maiden neither reddened nor paled, but looking with calm steady eyes into the Carline’s face she answered:

“Yea true it is, I am wedded to the mighty ones of old,
And the fathers of the Wolfings ere the days of field and fold.”

Then a smile came into the eyes of the old woman and she said.

“How glad shall be thy mother of thy worship and thy worth,
And the father that begat thee if yet they dwell on earth!”

But the Hall-Sun answered in the same steady manner as before:

“None knoweth who is my mother, nor my very father’s name;
But when to the House of the Wolfings a wild-wood waif I came,
They gave me a foster-mother an ancient dame and good,
And a glorious foster-father the best of all the blood.”

Spake the Carline.

“Yea, I have heard the story, but scarce therein might I trow
That thou with all thy beauty wert born ’neath the oaken bough,
And hast crawled a naked baby o’er the rain-drenched autumn-grass;
Wilt thou tell the wandering woman what wise it cometh to pass
That thou art the Mid-mark’s Hall-Sun, and the sign of the Wolfings’ gain?
Thou shalt pleasure me much by the telling, and there of shalt thou be fain.”

Then answered the Hall-Sun.

“Yea; thus much I remember for the first of my memories;
That I lay on the grass in the morning and above were the boughs of the trees.
But nought naked was I as the wood-whelp, but clad in linen white,
And adown the glades of the oakwood the morning sun lay bright.
Then a hind came out of the thicket and stood on the sunlit glade,
And turned her head toward the oak tree and a step on toward me made.
Then stopped, and bounded aback, and away as if in fear,
That I saw her no more; then I wondered, though sitting close anear
Was a she-wolf great and grisly. But with her was I wont to play,
And pull her ears, and belabour her rugged sides and grey,
And hold her jaws together, while she whimpered, slobbering
For the love of my love; and nowise I deemed her a fearsome thing.
There she sat as though she were watching, and o’er head a blue-winged jay
Shrieked out from the topmost oak-twigs, and a squirrel ran his way
Two tree-trunks off. But the she-wolf arose up suddenly
And growled with her neck-fell bristling, as if danger drew anigh;
And therewith I heard a footstep, for nice was my ear to catch
All the noises of the wild-wood; so there did we sit at watch
While the sound of feet grew nigher: then I clapped hand on hand
And crowed for joy and gladness, for there out in the sun did stand
A man, a glorious creature with a gleaming helm on his head,
And gold rings on his arms, in raiment gold-broidered crimson-red.
Straightway he strode up toward us nor heeded the wolf of the wood
But sang as he went in the oak-glade, as a man whose thought is good,
And nought she heeded the warrior, but tame as a sheep was grown,
And trotted away through the wild-wood with her crest all laid adown.
Then came the man and sat down by the oak-bole close unto me
And took me up nought fearful and set me on his knee.
And his face was kind and lovely, so my cheek to his cheek I laid
And touched his cold bright war-helm and with his gold rings played,
And hearkened his words, though I knew not what tale they had to tell,
Yet fain was my heart of their music, and meseemed I loved him well.
So we fared for a while and were fain, till he set down my feet on the grass,
And kissed me and stood up himself, and away through the wood did he pass.
And then came back the she-wolf and with her I played and was fain.
Lo the first thing I remember: wilt thou have me babble again?”

Spake the Carline and her face was soft and kind:

“Nay damsel, long would I hearken to thy voice this summer day.
But how didst thou leave the wild-wood, what people brought thee away?”

Then said the Hall-Sun:

“I awoke on a time in the even, and voices I heard as I woke;
And there was I in the wild-wood by the bole of the ancient oak,
And a ring of men was around me, and glad was I indeed
As I looked upon their faces and the fashion of their weed.
For I gazed on the red and the scarlet and the beaten silver and gold,
And blithe were their noble faces and kindly to behold,
And nought had I seen of such-like since that hour of the other day
When that warrior came to the oak glade with the little child to play.
And forth now he came, with the face that my hands had fondled before,
And a battle shield wrought fairly upon his arm he bore,
And thereon the wood-wolf’s image in ruddy gold was done.
Then I stretched out my little arms towards the glorious shining one
And he took me up and set me on his shoulder for a while
And turned about to his fellows with a blithe and joyous smile;
And they shouted aloud about me and drew forth gleaming swords
And clashed them on their bucklers; but nought I knew of the words
Of their shouting and rejoicing. So thereafter was I laid
And borne forth on the warrior’s warshield, and our way through the wood we made
’Midst the mirth and great contentment of those fair-clad shielded men.

“But no tale of the wolf and the wild-wood abides with me since then,
And the next thing I remember is a huge and dusky hall,
A world for my little body from ancient wall to wall;
A world of many doings, and nought for me to do,
A world of many noises, and known to me were few.

“Time wore, and I spoke with the Wolfings and knew the speech of the kin,
And was strange ’neath the roof no longer, as a lonely waif therein;
And I wrought as a child with my playmates and every hour looked on
Unto the next hour’s joyance till the happy day was done.
And going and coming amidst us was a woman tall and thin
With hair like the hoary barley and silver streaks therein.
And kind and sad of visage, as now I remember me,
And she sat and told us stories when we were aweary with glee,
And many of us she fondled, but me the most of all.
And once from my sleep she waked me and bore me down the hall,
In the hush of the very midnight, and I was feared thereat.
But she brought me unto the dais, and there the warrior sat,
Who took me up and kissed me, as erst within the wood;
And meseems in his arms I slumbered: but I wakened again and stood
Alone with the kindly woman, and gone was the goodly man,
And athwart the hush of the Folk-hall the moon shone bright and wan,
And the woman dealt with a lamp hung up by a chain aloft,
And she trimmed it and fed it with oil, while she chanted sweet and soft
A song whose words I knew not: then she ran it up again,
And up in the darkness above us died the length of its wavering chain.”

“Yea,” said the carline, “this woman will have been the Hall-Sun that came before thee. What next dost thou remember?”

Said the maiden:

“Next I mind me of the hazels behind the People’s Roof,
And the children running thither and the magpie flitting aloof,
And my hand in the hand of the Hall-Sun, as after the others we went,
And she soberly hearkening my prattle and the words of my intent.
And now would I call her ‘Mother,’ and indeed I loved her well.

“So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell;
But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood,
Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good.
But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew,
And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to
Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin
In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein.”

Then smiled the carline and said: “Yea, he is thy foster-father, and yet a fond one.”

“Sooth is that,” said the Hall-Sun. “But wise art thou by seeming. Hast thou come to tell me of what kindred I am, and who is my father and who is my mother?”

Said the carline: “Art thou not also wise? Is it not so that the Hall-Sun of the Wolfings seeth things that are to come?”

“Yea,” she said, “yet have I seen waking or sleeping no other father save my foster-father; yet my very mother I have seen, as one who should meet her in the flesh one day.”

“And good is that,” said the carline; and as she spoke her face waxed kinder, and she said:

“Tell us more of thy days in the House of the Wolfings and how thou faredst there.”

Said the Hall-Sun:

“I waxed ’neath the Roof of the Wolfings, till now to look upon
I was of sixteen winters, and the love of the Folk I won,
And in lovely weed they clad me like the image of a God:
And lonely now full often the wild-wood ways I trod,
And I feared no wild-wood creature, and my presence scared them nought;
And I fell to know of wisdom, and within me stirred my thought,
So that oft anights would I wander through the mead and far away,
And swim the Mirkwood-water, and amidst his eddies play
When earth was dark in the dawn-tide; and over all the folk
I knew of the beasts’ desires, as though in words they spoke.

“So I saw of things that should be, were they mighty things or small,
And upon a day as it happened came the war-word to the hall,
And the House must wend to the warfield, and as they sang, and played
With the strings of the harp that even, and the mirth of the war-eve made,
Came the sight of the field to my eyes, and the words waxed hot in me,
And I needs must show the picture of the end of the fight to be.
Then I showed them the Red Wolf bristling o’er the broken fleeing foe;
And the war-gear of the fleers, and their banner did I show,
To wit the Ling-worm’s image with the maiden in his mouth;
There I saw my foster-father ’mid the pale blades of the South,
Till aloof swept all the handplay and the hurry of the chase,
And he lay along by an ash-tree, no helm about his face,
No byrny on his body; and an arrow in his thigh,
And a broken spear in his shoulder. Then I saw myself draw nigh
To sing the song blood-staying. Then saw I how we twain
Went ’midst of the host triumphant in the Wolfings’ banner-wain,
The black bulls lowing before us athwart the warriors’ song,
As up from Mirkwood-water we went our ways along
To the Great Roof of the Wolfings, whence streamed the women out
And the sound of their rejoicing blent with the warriors’ shout.

“They heard me and saw the picture, and they wotted how wise I was grown,
And they loved me, and glad were their hearts at the tale my lips had shown;
And my body clad as an image of a God to the field they bore,
And I held by the mast of the banner as I looked upon their war,
And endured to see unblenching on the wind-swept sunny plain
All the picture of my vision by the men-folk done again.
And over my Foster-father I sang the staunching-song,
Till the life-blood that was ebbing flowed back to his heart the strong,
And we wended back in the war-wain ’midst the gleanings of the fight
Unto the ancient dwelling and the Hall-Sun’s glimmering light.

“So from that day henceforward folk hung upon my words,
For the battle of the autumn, and the harvest of the swords;
And e’en more was I loved than aforetime. So wore a year away,
And heavy was the burden of the lore that on me lay.

“But my fosterer the Hall-Sun took sick at the birth of the year,
And changed her life as the year changed, as summer drew anear.
But she knew that her life was waning, and lying in her bed
She taught me the lore of the Hall-Sun, and every word to be said
At the trimming in the midnight and the feeding in the morn,
And she laid her hands upon me ere unto the howe she was borne
With the kindred gathered about us; and they wotted her weird and her will,
And hailed me for the Hall-Sun when at last she lay there still.
And they did on me the garment, the holy cloth of old,
And the neck-chain wrought for the goddess, and the rings of the hallowed gold.
So here am I abiding, and of things to be I tell,
Yet know not what shall befall me nor why with the Wolfings I dwell.”

Then said the carline:

“What seest thou, O daughter, of the journey of to-day?
And why wendest thou not with the war-host on the battle-echoing way?”

Said the Hall-Sun.

“O mother, here dwelleth the Hall-Sun while the kin hath a dwelling-place,
Nor ever again shall I look on the onset or the chase,
Till the day when the Roof of the Wolfings looketh down on the girdle of foes,
And the arrow singeth over the grass of the kindred’s close;
Till the pillars shake with the shouting and quivers the roof-tree dear,
When the Hall of the Wolfings garners the harvest of the spear.”

Therewith she stood on her feet and turned her face to the Great Roof, and gazed long at it, not heeding the crone by her side; and she muttered words of whose signification the other knew not, though she listened intently, and gazed ever at her as closely as might be.

Then fell the Hall-Sun utterly silent, and the lids closed over her eyes, and her hands were clenched, and her feet pressed hard on the daisies: her bosom heaved with sore sighs, and great tear-drops oozed from under her eyelids and fell on to her raiment and her feet and on to the flowery summer grass; and at the last her mouth opened and she spake, but in a voice that was marvellously changed from that she spake in before:

“Why went ye forth, O Wolfings, from the garth your fathers built,
And the House where sorrow dieth, and all unloosed is guilt?
Turn back, turn back, and behold it! lest your feet be over slow
When your shields are heavy-burdened with the arrows of the foe;
How ye totter, how ye stumble on the rough and corpse-strewn way!
And lo, how the eve is eating the afternoon of day!
O why are ye abiding till the sun is sunk in night
And the forest trees are ruddy with the battle-kindled light?
O rest not yet, ye Wolfings, lest void be your resting-place,
And into lands that ye know not the Wolf must turn his face,
And ye wander and ye wander till the land in the ocean cease,
And your battle bring no safety and your labour no increase.”

Then was she silent for a while, and her tears ceased to flow; but presently her eyes opened once more, and she lifted up her voice and cried aloud—

“I see, I see! O Godfolk behold it from aloof,
How the little flames steal flickering along the ridge of the Roof!
They are small and red ’gainst the heavens in the summer afternoon;
But when the day is dusking, white, high shall they wave to the moon.
Lo, the fire plays now on the windows like strips of scarlet cloth
Wind-waved! but look in the night-tide on the onset of its wrath,
How it wraps round the ancient timbers and hides the mighty roof
But lighteth little crannies, so lost and far aloof,
That no man yet of the kindred hath seen them ere to-night,
Since first the builder builded in loving and delight!”

Then again she stayed her speech with weeping and sobbing, but after a while was still again, and then she spoke pointing toward the roof with her right hand.

“I see the fire-raisers and iron-helmed they are,
Brown-faced about the banners that their hands have borne afar.
And who in the garth of the kindred shall bear adown their shield
Since the onrush of the Wolfings they caught in the open field,
As the might of the mountain lion falls dead in the hempen net?
O Wolfings, long have ye tarried, but the hour abideth yet.
What life for the life of the people shall be given once for all,
What sorrow shall stay sorrow in the half-burnt Wolfing Hall?
There is nought shall quench the fire save the tears of the Godfolk’s kin,
And the heart of the life-delighter, and the life-blood cast therein.”

Then once again she fell silent, and her eyes closed again, and the slow tears gushed out from them, and she sank down sobbing on the grass, and little by little the storm of grief sank and her head fell back, and she was as one quietly asleep. Then the carline hung over her and kissed her and embraced her; and then through her closed eyes and her slumber did the Hall-Sun see a marvel; for she who was kissing her was young in semblance and unwrinkled, and lovely to look on, with plenteous long hair of the hue of ripe barley, and clad in glistening raiment such as has been woven in no loom on earth.

And indeed it was the Wood-Sun in the semblance of a crone, who had come to gather wisdom of the coming time from the foreseeing of the Hall-Sun; since now at last she herself foresaw nothing of it, though she was of the kindred of the Gods and the Fathers of the Goths. So when she had heard the Hall-Sun she deemed that she knew but too well what her words meant, and what for love, what for sorrow, she grew sick at heart as she heard them.

So at last she arose and turned to look at the Great Roof; and strong and straight, and cool and dark grey showed its ridge against the pale sky of the summer afternoon all quivering with the heat of many hours’ sun: dark showed its windows as she gazed on it, and stark and stiff she knew were its pillars within.

Then she said aloud, but to herself: “What then if a merry and mighty life be given for it, and the sorrow of the people be redeemed; yet will not I give the life which is his; nay rather let him give the bliss which is mine. But oh! how may it be that he shall die joyous and I shall live unhappy!”

Then she went slowly down from the Hill of Speech, and whoso saw her deemed her but a gangrel carline. So she went her ways and let the wood cover her.

But in a little while the Hall-Sun awoke alone, and sat up with a sigh, and she remembered nothing concerning her sight of the flickering flame along the hall-roof, and the fire-tongues like strips of scarlet cloth blown by the wind, nor had she any memory of her words concerning the coming day. But the rest of her talk with the carline she remembered, and also the vision of the beautiful woman who had kissed and embraced her; and she knew that it was her very mother. Also she perceived that she had been weeping, therefore she knew that she had uttered words of wisdom. For so it fared with her at whiles, that she knew not her own words of foretelling, but spoke them out as if in a dream.

So now she went down from the Hill of Speech soberly, and turned toward the Woman’s door of the hall, and on her way she met the women and old men and youths coming back from the meadow with little mirth: and there were many of them who looked shyly at her as though they would gladly have asked her somewhat, and yet durst not. But for her, her sadness passed away when she came among them, and she looked kindly on this and that one of them, and entered with them into the Woman’s Chamber, and did what came to her hand to do.

CHAPTER VI—THEY TALK ON THE WAY TO THE FOLK-THING

All day long one standing on the Speech-hill of the Wolfings might have seen men in their war-array streaming along the side of Mirkwood-water, on both sides thereof; and the last comers from the Nether-mark came hastening all they might; for they would not be late at the trysting-place. But these were of a kindred called the Laxings, who bore a salmon on their banner; and they were somewhat few in number, for they had but of late years become a House of the Markmen. Their banner-wain was drawn by white horses, fleet and strong, and they were no great band, for they had but few thralls with them, and all, free men and thralls, were a-horseback; so they rode by hastily with their banner-wain, their few munition-wains following as they might.

Now tells the tale of the men-at-arms of the Wolfings and the Beamings, that soon they fell in with the Elking host, which was journeying but leisurely, so that the Wolfings might catch up with them: they were a very great kindred, the most numerous of all Mid-mark, and at this time they had affinity with the Wolfings. But old men of the House remembered how they had heard their grandsires and very old men tell that there had been a time when the Elking House had been established by men from out of the Wolfing kindred, and how they had wandered away from the Mark in the days when it had been first settled, and had abided aloof for many generations of men; and so at last had come back again to the Mark, and had taken up their habitation at a place in Mid-mark where was dwelling but a remnant of a House called the Thyrings, who had once been exceeding mighty, but had by that time almost utterly perished in a great sickness which befel in those days. So then these two Houses, the wanderers come back and the remnant left by the sickness of the Gods, made one House together, and increased and throve after their coming together, and wedded with the Wolfings, and became a very great House.

Gallant and glorious was their array now, as they marched along with their banner of the Elk, which was drawn by the very beasts themselves tamed to draught to that end through many generations; they were fatter and sleeker than their wild-wood brethren, but not so mighty.

So were the men of the three kindreds somewhat mingled together on the way. The Wolfings were the tallest and the biggest made; but of those dark-haired men aforesaid, were there fewest amongst the Beamings, and most among the Elkings, as though they had drawn to them more men of alien blood during their wanderings aforesaid. So they talked together and made each other good cheer, as is the wont of companions in arms on the eve of battle; and the talk ran, as may be deemed, on that journey and what was likely to come of it: and spake an Elking warrior to a Wolfing by whom he rode:

“O Wolfkettle, hath the Hall-Sun had any foresight of the day of battle?”

“Nay,” said the other, “when she lighted the farewell candle, she bade us come back again, and spoke of the day of our return; but that methinks, as thou and I would talk of it, thinking what would be likely to befal. Since we are a great host of valiant men, and these Welshmen {2} most valiant, and as the rumour runneth bigger-bodied men than the Hun-folk, and so well ordered as never folk have been. So then if we overthrow them we shall come back again; and if they overthrow us, the remnant of us shall fall back before them till we come to our habitations; for it is not to be looked for that they will fall in upon our rear and prevent us, since we have the thicket of the wild-wood on our flanks.”

“Sooth is that,” said the Elking; “and as to the mightiness of this folk and their customs, ye may gather somewhat from the songs which our House yet singeth, and which ye have heard wide about in the Mark; for this is the same folk of which a many of them tell, making up that story-lay which is called the South-Welsh Lay; which telleth how we have met this folk in times past when we were in fellowship with a folk of the Welsh of like customs to ourselves: for we of the Elkings were then but a feeble folk. So we marched with this folk of the Kymry and met the men of the cities, and whiles we overthrew and whiles were overthrown, but at last in a great battle were overthrown with so great a slaughter, that the red blood rose over the wheels of the wains, and the city-folk fainted with the work of the slaughter, as men who mow a match in the meadows when the swathes are dry and heavy and the afternoon of midsummer is hot; and there they stood and stared on the field of the slain, and knew not whether they were in Home or Hell, so fierce the fight had been.”

Therewith a man of the Beamings, who was riding on the other side of the Elking, reached out over his horse’s neck and said:

“Yea friend, but is there not some telling of a tale concerning how ye and your fellowship took the great city of the Welshmen of the South, and dwelt there long.”

“Yea,” said the Elking, “Hearken how it is told in the South-Welsh Lay:

“‘Have ye not heard
Of the ways of Weird?
How the folk fared forth
Far away from the North?
And as light as one wendeth
Whereas the wood endeth,
When of nought is our need,
And none telleth our deed,
So Rodgeir unwearied and Reidfari wan
The town where none tarried the shield-shaking man.
All lonely the street there, and void was the way
And nought hindered our feet but the dead men that lay
Under shield in the lanes of the houses heavens-high,
All the ring-bearing swains that abode there to die.’

“Tells the Lay, that none abode the Goths and their fellowship, but such as were mighty enough to fall before them, and the rest, both man and woman, fled away before our folk and before the folk of the Kymry, and left their town for us to dwell in; as saith the Lay:

“‘Glistening of gold
Did men’s eyen behold;
Shook the pale sword
O’er the unspoken word,
No man drew nigh us
With weapon to try us,
For the Welsh-wrought shield
Lay low on the field.
By man’s hand unbuilded all seemed there to be,
The walls ruddy gilded, the pearls of the sea:
Yea all things were dead there save pillar and wall,
But they lived and they said us the song of the hall;
The dear hall left to perish by men of the land,
For the Goth-folk to cherish with gold gaining hand.’

“See ye how the Lay tells that the hall was bolder than the men, who fled from it, and left all for our fellowship to deal with in the days gone by?”

Said the Wolfing man:

“And as it was once, so shall it be again. Maybe we shall go far on this journey, and see at least one of the garths of the Southlands, even those which they call cities. For I have heard it said that they have more cities than one only, and that so great are their kindreds, that each liveth in a garth full of mighty houses, with a wall of stone and lime around it; and that in every one of these garths lieth wealth untold heaped up. And wherefore should not all this fall to the Markmen and their valiancy?”

Said the Elking:

“As to their many cities and the wealth of them, that is sooth; but as to each city being the habitation of each kindred, it is otherwise: for rather it may be said of them that they have forgotten kindred, and have none, nor do they heed whom they wed, and great is the confusion amongst them. And mighty men among them ordain where they shall dwell, and what shall be their meat, and how long they shall labour after they are weary, and in all wise what manner of life shall be amongst them; and though they be called free men who suffer this, yet may no house or kindred gainsay this rule and order. In sooth they are a people mighty, but unhappy.”

Said Wolfkettle:

“And hast thou learned all this from the ancient story lays, O Hiarandi? For some of them I know, though not all, and therein have I noted nothing of all this. Is there some new minstrel arisen in thine House of a memory excelling all those that have gone before? If that be so, I bid him to the Roof of the Wolfings as soon as may be; for we lack new tales.”

“Nay,” said Hiarandi, “This that I tell thee is not a tale of past days, but a tale of to-day. For there came to us a man from out of the wild-wood, and prayed us peace, and we gave it him; and he told us that he was of a House of the Gael, and that his House had been in a great battle against these Welshmen, whom he calleth the Romans; and that he was taken in the battle, and sold as a thrall in one of their garths; and howbeit, it was not their master-garth, yet there he learned of their customs: and sore was the lesson! Hard was his life amongst them, for their thralls be not so well entreated as their draught-beasts, so many do they take in battle; for they are a mighty folk; and these thralls and those aforesaid unhappy freemen do all tilling and herding and all deeds of craftsmanship: and above these are men whom they call masters and lords who do nought, nay not so much as smithy their own edge-weapons, but linger out their days in their dwellings and out of their dwellings, lying about in the sun or the hall-cinders, like cur-dogs who have fallen away from kind.

“So this man made a shift to flee away from out of that garth, since it was not far from the great river; and being a valiant man, and young and mighty of body, he escaped all perils and came to us through the Mirkwood. But we saw that he was no liar, and had been very evilly handled, for upon his body was the mark of many a stripe, and of the shackles that had been soldered on to his limbs; also it was more than one of these accursed people whom he had slain when he fled. So he became our guest and we loved him, and he dwelt among us and yet dwelleth, for we have taken him into our House. But yesterday he was sick and might not ride with us; but may be he will follow on and catch up with us in a day or two. And if he come not, then will I bring him over to the Wolfings when the battle is done.”

Then laughed the Beaming man, and spake:

“How then if ye come not back, nor Wolfkettle, nor the Welsh Guest, nor I myself? Meseemeth no one of these Southland Cities shall we behold, and no more of the Southlanders than their war-array.”

“These are evil words,” said Wolfkettle, “though such an outcome must be thought on. But why deemest thou this?”

Said the Beaming: “There is no Hall-Sun sitting under our Roof at home to tell true tales concerning the Kindred every day. Yet forsooth from time to time is a word said in our Folk-hall for good or for evil; and who can choose but hearken thereto? And yestereve was a woeful word spoken, and that by a man-child of ten winters.”

Said the Elking: “Now that thou hast told us thus much, thou must tell us more, yea, all the word which was spoken; else belike we shall deem of it as worse than it was.”

Said the Beaming: “Thus it was; this little lad brake out weeping yestereve, when the Hall was full and feasting; and he wailed, and roared out, as children do, and would not be pacified, and when he was asked why he made that to do, he said: ‘Well away! Raven hath promised to make me a clay horse and to bake it in the kiln with the pots next week; and now he goeth to the war, and he shall never come back, and never shall my horse be made.’ Thereat we all laughed as ye may well deem. But the lad made a sour countenance on us and said, ‘why do ye laugh? look yonder, what see ye?’ ‘Nay,’ said one, ‘nought but the Feast-hall wall and the hangings of the High-tide thereon.’ Then said the lad sobbing: ‘Ye see ill: further afield see I: I see a little plain, on a hill top, and fells beyond it far bigger than our speech-hill: and there on the plain lieth Raven as white as parchment; and none hath such hue save the dead.’ Then said Raven, (and he was a young man, and was standing thereby). ‘And well is that, swain, to die in harness! Yet hold up thine heart; here is Gunbert who shall come back and bake thine horse for thee.’ ‘Nay never more,’ quoth the child, ‘For I see his pale head lying at Raven’s feet; but his body with the green gold-broidered kirtle I see not.’ Then was the laughter stilled, and man after man drew near to the child, and questioned him, and asked, ‘dost thou see me?’ ‘dost thou see me?’ And he failed to see but few of those that asked him. Therefore now meseemeth that not many of us shall see the cities of the South, and those few belike shall look on their own shackles therewithal.”

“Nay,” said Hiarandi, “What is all this? heard ye ever of a company of fighting men that fared afield, and found the foe, and came back home leaving none behind them?”

Said the Beaming: “Yet seldom have I heard a child foretell the death of warriors. I tell thee that hadst thou been there, thou wouldst have thought of it as if the world were coming to an end.”

“Well,” said Wolfkettle, “let it be as it may! Yet at least I will not be led away from the field by the foemen. Oft may a man be hindered of victory, but never of death if he willeth it.”

Therewith he handled a knife that hung about his neck, and went on to say: “But indeed, I do much marvel that no word came into the mouth of the Hall-Sun yestereven or this morning, but such as any woman of the kindred might say.”

Therewith fell their talk awhile, and as they rode they came to where the wood drew nigher to the river, and thus the Mid-mark had an end; for there was no House had a dwelling in the Mid-mark higher up the water than the Elkings, save one only, not right great, who mostly fared to war along with the Elkings: and this was the Oselings, whose banner bore the image of the Wood-ousel, the black bird with the yellow neb; and they had just fallen into the company of the greater House.

So now Mid-mark was over and past, and the serried trees of the wood came down like a wall but a little way from the lip of the water; and scattered trees, mostly quicken-trees grew here and there on the very water side. But Mirkwood-water ran deep swift and narrow between high clean-cloven banks, so that none could dream of fording, and not so many of swimming its dark green dangerous waters. And the day wore on towards evening and the glory of the western sky was unseen because of the wall of high trees. And still the host made on, and because of the narrowness of the space between river and wood it was strung out longer and looked a very great company of men. And moreover the men of the eastern-lying part of Mid-mark, were now marching thick and close on the other side of the river but a little way from the Wolfings and their fellows; for nothing but the narrow river sundered them.

So night fell, and the stars shone, and the moon rose, and yet the Wolfings and their fellows stayed not, since they wotted that behind them followed a many of the men of the Mark, both the Mid and the Nether, and they would by no means hinder their march.

So wended the Markmen between wood and stream on either side of Mirkwood-water, till now at last the night grew deep and the moon set, and it was hard on midnight, and they had kindled many torches to light them on either side of the water. So whereas they had come to a place where the trees gave back somewhat from the river, which was well-grassed for their horses and neat, and was called Baitmead, the companies on the western side made stay there till morning. And they drew the wains right up to the thick of the wood, and all men turned aside into the mead from the beaten road, so that those who were following after might hold on their way if so they would. There then they appointed watchers of the night, while the rest of them lay upon the sward by the side of the trees, and slept through the short summer night.

The tale tells not that any man dreamed of the fight to come in such wise that there was much to tell of his dream on the morrow; many dreamed of no fight or faring to war, but of matters little, and often laughable, mere mingled memories of bygone time that had no waking wits to marshal them.

But that man of the Beamings dreamed that he was at home watching a potter, a man of the thralls of the House working at his wheel, and fashioning bowls and ewers: and he had a mind to take of his clay and fashion a horse for the lad that had bemoaned the promise of his toy. And he tried long and failed to fashion anything; for the clay fell to pieces in his hands; till at last it held together and grew suddenly, not into an image of a horse, but of the Great Yule Boar, the similitude of the Holy Beast of Frey. So he laughed in his sleep and was glad, and leaped up and drew his sword with his clay-stained hands that he might wave it over the Earth Boar, and swear a great oath of a doughty deed. And therewith he found himself standing on his feet indeed, just awakened in the cold dawn, and holding by his right hand to an ash-sapling that grew beside him. So he laughed again, and laid him down, and leaned back and slept his sleep out till the sun and the voices of his fellows stirring awakened him.

CHAPTER VII—THEY GATHER TO THE FOLK-MOTE

When it was the morning, all the host of the Markmen was astir on either side of the water, and when they had broken their fast, they got speedily into array, and were presently on the road again; and the host was now strung out longer yet, for the space between water and wood once more diminished till at last it was no wider than ten men might go abreast, and looking ahead it was as if the wild-wood swallowed up both river and road.

But the fighting-men hastened on merrily with their hearts raised high, since they knew that they would soon be falling in with more of their people, and the coming fight was growing a clearer picture to their eyes; so from side to side of the river they shouted out the cries of their Houses, or friend called to friend across the eddies of Mirkwood-water, and there was game and glee enough.

So they fared till the wood gave way before them, and lo, the beginning of another plain, somewhat like the Mid-mark. There also the water widened out before them, and there were eyots in it with stony shores crowned with willow or with alder, and aspens rising from the midst of them.

But as for the plain, it was thus much different from Mid-mark, that the wood which begirt it rose on the south into low hills, and away beyond them were other hills blue in the distance, for the most bare of wood, and not right high, the pastures of the wild-bull and the bison, whereas now dwelt a folk somewhat scattered and feeble; hunters and herdsmen, with little tillage about their abodes, a folk akin to the Markmen and allied to them. They had come into those parts later than the Markmen, as the old tales told; which said moreover that in days gone by a folk dwelt among those hills who were alien from the Goths, and great foes to the Markmen; and how that on a time they came down from their hills with a great host, together with new-comers of their own blood, and made their way through the wild-wood, and fell upon the Upper-mark; and how that there befel a fearful battle that endured for three days; and the first day the Aliens worsted the Markmen, who were but a few, since they were they of the Upper-mark only. So the Aliens burned their houses and slew their old men, and drave off many of their women and children; and the remnant of the men of the Upper-mark with all that they had, which was now but little, took refuge in an island of Mirkwood-water, where they fenced themselves as well as they could for that night; for they expected the succour of their kindred of the Mid-mark and the Nether-mark, unto whom they had sped the war-arrow when they first had tidings of the onset of the Aliens.

So at the sun-rising they sacrificed to the Gods twenty chieftains of the Aliens whom they had taken, and therewithal a maiden of their own kindred, the daughter of their war-duke, that she might lead that mighty company to the House of the Gods; and thereto was she nothing loth, but went right willingly.

There then they awaited the onset. But the men of Mid-mark came up in the morning, when the battle was but just joined, and fell on so fiercely that the aliens gave back, and then they of the Upper-mark stormed out of their eyot, and fell on over the ford, and fought till the water ran red with their blood, and the blood of the foemen. So the Aliens gave back before the onset of the Markmen all over the meads; but when they came to the hillocks and the tofts of the half-burned habitations, and the wood was on their flank, they made a stand again, and once more the battle waxed hot, for they were very many, and had many bowmen: there fell the War-duke of the Markmen, whose daughter had been offered up for victory, and his name was Agni, so that the tofts where he fell have since been called Agni’s Tofts. So that day they fought all over the plain, and a great many died, both of the Aliens and the Markmen, and though these last were victorious, yet when the sun went down there still were the Aliens abiding in the Upper-mark, fenced by their wain-burg, beaten, and much diminished in number, but still a host of men: while of the Markmen many had fallen, and many more were hurt, because the Aliens were good bowmen.

But on the morrow again, as the old tale told, came up the men of the Nether-mark fresh and unwounded; and so the battle began again on the southern limit of the Upper-mark where the Aliens had made their wain-burg. But not long did it endure; for the Markmen fell on so fiercely, that they stormed over the wain-burg, and slew all before them, and there was a very great slaughter of the Aliens; so great, tells the old tale, that never again durst they meet the Markmen in war.

Thus went forth the host of the Markmen, faring along both sides of the water into the Upper-mark; and on the west side, where went the Wolfings, the ground now rose by a long slope into a low hill, and when they came unto the brow thereof, they beheld before them the whole plain of the Upper-mark, and the dwellings of the kindred therein all girdled about by the wild-wood; and beyond, the blue hills of the herdsmen, and beyond them still, a long way aloof, lying like a white cloud on the verge of the heavens, the snowy tops of the great mountains. And as they looked down on to the plain they saw it embroidered, as it were, round about the habitations which lay within ken by crowds of many people, and the banners of the kindreds and the arms of men; and many a place they saw named after the ancient battle and that great slaughter of the Aliens.

On their left hand lay the river, and as it now fairly entered with them into the Upper-mark, it spread out into wide rippling shallows beset with yet more sandy eyots, amongst which was one much greater, rising amidmost into a low hill, grassy and bare of tree or bush; and this was the island whereon the Markmen stood on the first day of the Great Battle, and it was now called the Island of the Gods.

Thereby was the ford, which was firm and good and changed little from year to year, so that all Markmen knew it well and it was called Battleford: thereover now crossed all the eastern companies, footmen and horsemen, freemen and thralls, wains and banners, with shouting and laughter, and the noise of horns and the lowing of neat, till all that plain’s end was flooded with the host of the Markmen.

But when the eastern-abiders had crossed, they made no stay, but went duly ordered about their banners, winding on toward the first of the abodes on the western side of the water; because it was but a little way southwest of this that the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark lay; and the whole Folk was summoned thither when war threatened from the South, just as it was called to the Thing-stead of the Nether-mark, when the threat of war came from the North. But the western companies stayed on the brow of that low hill till all the eastern men were over the river, and on their way to the Thing-stead, and then they moved on.

So came the Wolfings and their fellows up to the dwellings of the northernmost kindred, who were called the Daylings, and bore on their banner the image of the rising sun. Thereabout was the Mark somewhat more hilly and broken than in the Mid-mark, so that the Great Roof of the Daylings, which was a very big house, stood on a hillock whose sides had been cleft down sheer on all sides save one (which was left as a bridge) by the labour of men, and it was a very defensible place.

Thereon were now gathered round about the Roof all the stay-at-homes of the kindred, who greeted with joyous cries the men-at-arms as they passed. Albeit one very old man, who sat in a chair near to the edge of the sheer hill looking on the war array, when he saw the Wolfing banner draw near, stood up to gaze on it, and then shook his head sadly, and sank back again into his chair, and covered his face with his hands: and when the folk saw that, a silence bred of the coldness of fear fell on them, for that elder was deemed a foreseeing man.

But as those three fellows, of whose talk of yesterday the tale has told, drew near and beheld what the old carle did (for they were riding together this day also) the Beaming man laid his hand on Wolfkettle’s rein and said:

“Lo you, neighbour, if thy Vala hath seen nought, yet hath this old man seen somewhat, and that somewhat even as the little lad saw it. Many a mother’s son shall fall before the Welshmen.”

But Wolfkettle shook his rein free, and his face reddened as of one who is angry, yet he kept silence, while the Elking said:

“Let be, Toti! for he that lives shall tell the tale to the foreseers, and shall make them wiser than they are to-day.”

Then laughed Toti, as one who would not be thought to be too heedful of the morrow. But Wolfkettle brake out into speech and rhyme, and said:

“O warriors, the Wolfing kindred shall live or it shall die;
And alive it shall be as the oak-tree when the summer storm goes by;
But dead it shall be as its bole, that they hew for the corner-post
Of some fair and mighty folk-hall, and the roof of a war-fain host.”

So therewith they rode their ways past the abode of the Daylings.

Straight to the wood went all the host, and so into it by a wide way cleft through the thicket, and in some thirty minutes they came thereby into a great wood-lawn cleared amidst of it by the work of men’s hands. There already was much of the host gathered, sitting or standing in a great ring round about a space bare of men, where amidmost rose a great mound raised by men’s hands and wrought into steps to be the sitting-places of the chosen elders and chief men of the kindred; and atop the mound was flat and smooth save for a turf bench or seat that went athwart it whereon ten men might sit.

All the wains save the banner-wains had been left behind at the Dayling abode, nor was any beast there save the holy beasts who drew the banner-wains and twenty white horses, that stood wreathed about with flowers within the ring of warriors, and these were for the burnt offering to be given to the Gods for a happy day of battle. Even the war-horses of the host they must leave in the wood without the wood-lawn, and all men were afoot who were there.

For this was the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark, and the holiest place of the Markmen, and no beast, either neat, sheep, or horse might pasture there, but was straightway slain and burned if he wandered there; nor might any man eat therein save at the holy feasts when offerings were made to the Gods.

So the Wolfings took their place there in the ring of men with the Elkings on their right hand and the Beamings on their left. And in the midst of the Wolfing array stood Thiodolf clad in the dwarf-wrought hauberk: but his head was bare; for he had sworn over the Cup of Renown that he would fight unhelmed throughout all that trouble, and would bear no shield in any battle thereof however fierce the onset might be.

Short, and curling close to his head was his black hair, a little grizzled, so that it looked like rings of hard dark iron: his forehead was high and smooth, his lips full and red, his eyes steady and wide-open, and all his face joyous with the thought of the fame of his deeds, and the coming battle with a foeman whom the Markmen knew not yet.

He was tall and wide-shouldered, but so exceeding well fashioned of all his limbs and body that he looked no huge man. He was a man well beloved of women, and children would mostly run to him gladly and play with him. A most fell warrior was he, whose deeds no man of the Mark could equal, but blithe of speech even when he was sorrowful of mood, a man that knew not bitterness of heart: and for all his exceeding might and valiancy, he was proud and high to no man; so that the very thralls loved him.

He was not abounding in words in the field; nor did he use much the custom of those days in reviling and defying with words the foe that was to be smitten with swords.

There were those who had seen him in the field for the first time who deemed him slack at the work: for he would not always press on with the foremost, but would hold him a little aback, and while the battle was young he forbore to smite, and would do nothing but help a kinsman who was hard pressed, or succour the wounded. So that if men were dealing with no very hard matter, and their hearts were high and overweening, he would come home at whiles with unbloodied blade. But no man blamed him save those who knew him not: for his intent was that the younger men should win themselves fame, and so raise their courage, and become high-hearted and stout.

But when the stour was hard, and the battle was broken, and the hearts of men began to fail them, and doubt fell upon the Markmen, then was he another man to see: wise, but swift and dangerous, rushing on as if shot out by some mighty engine: heedful of all, on either side and in front; running hither and thither as the fight failed and the fire of battle faltered; his sword so swift and deadly that it was as if he wielded the very lightening of the heavens: for with the sword it was ever his wont to fight.

But it must be said that when the foemen turned their backs, and the chase began, then Thiodolf would nowise withhold his might as in the early battle, but ever led the chase, and smote on the right hand and on the left, sparing none, and crying out to the men of the kindred not to weary in their work, but to fulfil all the hours of their day.

For thuswise would he say and this was a word of his:

“Let us rest to-morrow, fellows, since to-day we have fought amain!
Let not these men we have smitten come aback on our hands again,
And say ‘Ye Wolfing warriors, ye have done your work but ill,
Fall to now and do it again, like the craftsman who learneth his skill.’”

Such then was Thiodolf, and ever was he the chosen leader of the Wolfings and often the War-duke of the whole Folk.

By his side stood the other chosen leader, whose name was Heriulf; a man well stricken in years, but very mighty and valiant; wise in war and well renowned; of few words save in battle, and therein a singer of songs, a laugher, a joyous man, a merry companion. He was a much bigger man than Thiodolf; and indeed so huge was his stature, that he seemed to be of the kindred of the Mountain Giants; and his bodily might went with his stature, so that no one man might deal with him body to body. His face was big; his cheek-bones high; his nose like an eagle’s neb, his mouth wide, his chin square and big; his eyes light-grey and fierce under shaggy eyebrows: his hair white and long.

Such were his raiment and weapons, that he wore a coat of fence of dark iron scales sewn on to horse-hide, and a dark iron helm fashioned above his brow into the similitude of the Wolf’s head with gaping jaws; and this he had wrought for himself with his own hands, for he was a good smith. A round buckler he bore and a huge twibill, which no man of the kindred could well wield save himself; and it was done both blade and shaft with knots and runes in gold; and he loved that twibill well, and called it the Wolf’s Sister.

There then stood Heriulf, looking no less than one of the forefathers of the kindred come back again to the battle of the Wolfings.

He was well-beloved for his wondrous might, and he was no hard man, though so fell a warrior, and though of few words, as aforesaid, was a blithe companion to old and young. In numberless battles had he fought, and men deemed it a wonder that Odin had not taken to him a man so much after his own heart; and they said it was neighbourly done of the Father of the Slain to forbear his company so long, and showed how well he loved the Wolfing House.

For a good while yet came other bands of Markmen into the Thing-stead; but at last there was an end of their coming. Then the ring of men opened, and ten warriors of the Daylings made their way through it, and one of them, the oldest, bore in his hand the War-horn of the Daylings; for this kindred had charge of the Thing-stead, and of all appertaining to it. So while his nine fellows stood round about the Speech-Hill, the old warrior clomb up to the topmost of it, and blew a blast on the horn. Thereon they who were sitting rose up, and they who were talking each to each held their peace, and the whole ring drew nigher to the hill, so that there was a clear space behind them ’twixt them and the wood, and a space before them between them and the hill, wherein were those nine warriors, and the horses for the burnt-offering, and the altar of the Gods; and now were all well within ear-shot of a man speaking amidst the silence in a clear voice.

But there were gathered of the Markmen to that place some four thousand men, all chosen warriors and doughty men; and of the thralls and aliens dwelling with them they were leading two thousand. But not all of the freemen of the Upper-mark could be at the Thing; for needs must there be some guard to the passes of the wood toward the south and the hills of the herdsmen, whereas it was no wise impassable to a wisely led host: so five hundred men, what of freemen, what of thralls, abode there to guard the wild-wood; and these looked to have some helping from the hill-men.

Now came an ancient warrior into the space between the men and the wild-wood holding in his hand a kindled torch; and first he faced due south by the sun, then, turning, he slowly paced the whole circle going from east to west, and so on till he had reached the place he started from: then he dashed the torch to the ground and quenched the fire, and so went his ways to his own company again.

Then the old Dayling warrior on the mound-top drew his sword, and waved it flashing in the sun toward the four quarters of the heavens; and thereafter blew again a blast on the War-horn. Then fell utter silence on the whole assembly, and the wood was still around them, save here and there the stamping of a war-horse or the sound of his tugging at the woodland grass; for there was little resort of birds to the depths of the thicket, and the summer morning was windless.

CHAPTER VIII—THE FOLK-MOTE OF THE MARKMEN

So the Dayling warrior lifted up his voice and said:

“O kindreds of the Markmen, hearken the words I say;
For no chancehap assembly is gathered here to-day.
The fire hath gone around us in the hands of our very kin,
And twice the horn hath sounded, and the Thing is hallowed in.
Will ye hear or forbear to hearken the tale there is to tell?
There are many mouths to tell it, and a many know it well.
And the tale is this, that the foemen against our kindreds fare
Who eat the meadows desert, and burn the desert bare.”

Then sat he down on the turf seat; but there arose a murmur in the assembly as of men eager to hearken; and without more ado came a man out of a company of the Upper-mark, and clomb up to the top of the Speech-Hill, and spoke in a loud voice:

“I am Bork, a man of the Geirings of the Upper-mark: two days ago I and five others were in the wild-wood a-hunting, and we wended through the thicket, and came into the land of the hill-folk; and after we had gone a while we came to a long dale with a brook running through it, and yew-trees scattered about it and a hazel copse at one end; and by the copse was a band of men who had women and children with them, and a few neat, and fewer horses; but sheep were feeding up and down the dale; and they had made them booths of turf and boughs, and were making ready their cooking fires, for it was evening. So when they saw us, they ran to their arms, but we cried out to them in the tongue of the Goths and bade them peace. Then they came up the bent to us and spake to us in the Gothic tongue, albeit a little diversely from us; and when we had told them what and whence we were, they were glad of us, and bade us to them, and we went, and they entreated us kindly, and made us such cheer as they might, and gave us mutton to eat, and we gave them venison of the wild-wood which we had taken, and we abode with them there that night.

“But they told us that they were a house of the folk of the herdsmen, and that there was war in the land, and that the people thereof were fleeing before the cruelty of a host of warriors, men of a mighty folk, such as the earth hath not heard of, who dwell in great cities far to the south; and how that this host had crossed the mountains, and the Great Water that runneth from them, and had fallen upon their kindred, and overcome their fighting-men, and burned their dwellings, slain their elders, and driven their neat and their sheep, yea, and their women and children in no better wise than their neat and sheep.

“And they said that they had fled away thus far from their old habitations, which were a long way to the south, and were now at point to build them dwellings there in that Dale of the Hazels, and to trust to it that these Welshmen, whom they called Romans, would not follow so far, and that if they did, they might betake them to the wild-wood, and let the thicket cover them, they being so nigh to it.

“Thus they told us; wherefore we sent back one of our fellowship, Birsti of the Geirings, to tell the tale; and one of the herdsmen folk went with him, but we ourselves went onward to hear more of these Romans; for the folk when we asked them, said that they had been in battle against them, but had fled away for fear of their rumour only. Therefore we went on, and a young man of this kindred, who named themselves the Hrutings of the Fell-folk, went along with us. But the others were sore afeard, for all they had weapons.

“So as we went up the land we found they had told us the very sooth, and we met divers Houses, and bands, and broken men, who were fleeing from this trouble, and many of them poor and in misery, having lost their flocks and herds as well as their roofs; and this last be but little loss to them, as their dwellings are but poor, and for the most part they have no tillage. Now of these men, we met not a few who had been in battle with the Roman host, and much they told us of their might not to be dealt with, and their mishandling of those whom they took, both men and women; and at the last we heard true tidings how they had raised them a garth, and made a stronghold in the midst of the land, as men who meant abiding there, so that neither might the winter drive them aback, and that they might be succoured by their people on the other side of the Great River; to which end they have made other garths, though not so great, on the road to that water, and all these well and wisely warded by tried men. For as to the Folks on the other side of the Water, all these lie under their hand already, what by fraud what by force, and their warriors go with them to the battle and help them; of whom we met bands now and again, and fought with them, and took men of them, who told us all this and much more, over long to tell of here.”

He paused and turned about to look on the mighty assembly, and his ears drank in the long murmur that followed his speaking, and when it had died out he spake again, but in rhyme:

“Lo thus much of my tidings! But this too it behoveth to tell,
That these masterful men of the cities of the Markmen know full well:
And they wot of the well-grassed meadows, and the acres of the Mark,
And our life amidst of the wild-wood like a candle in the dark;
And they know of our young men’s valour and our women’s loveliness,
And our tree would they spoil with destruction if its fruit they may never possess.
For their lust is without a limit, and nought may satiate
Their ravening maw; and their hunger if ye check it turneth to hate,
And the blood-fever burns in their bosoms, and torment and anguish and woe
O’er the wide field ploughed by the sword-blade for the coming years they sow;
And ruth is a thing forgotten and all hopes they trample down;
And whatso thing is steadfast, whatso of good renown,
Whatso is fair and lovely, whatso is ancient sooth
In the bloody marl shall they mingle as they laugh for lack of ruth.
Lo the curse of the world cometh hither; for the men that we took in the land
Said thus, that their host is gathering with many an ordered band
To fall on the wild-wood passes and flood the lovely Mark,
As the river over the meadows upriseth in the dark.
Look to it, O ye kindred! availeth now no word
But the voice of the clashing of iron, and the sword-blade on the sword.”

Therewith he made an end, and deeper and longer was the murmur of the host of freemen, amidst which Bork gat him down from the Speech-Hill, his weapons clattering about him, and mingled with the men of his kindred.

Then came forth a man of the kin of the Shieldings of the Upper-mark, and clomb the mound; and he spake in rhyme from beginning to end; for he was a minstrel of renown:

“Lo I am a man of the Shieldings and Geirmund is my name;
A half-moon back from the wild-wood out into the hills I came,
And I went alone in my war-gear; for we have affinity
With the Hundings of the Fell-folk, and with them I fain would be;
For I loved a maid of their kindred. Now their dwelling was not far
From the outermost bounds of the Fell-folk, and bold in the battle they are,
And have met a many people, and held their own abode.
Gay then was the heart within me, as over the hills I rode
And thought of the mirth of to-morrow and the sweet-mouthed Hunding maid
And their old men wise and merry and their young men unafraid,
And the hall-glee of the Hundings and the healths o’er the guesting cup.
But as I rode the valley, I saw a smoke go up
O’er the crest of the last of the grass-hills ’twixt me and the Hunding roof,
And that smoke was black and heavy: so a while I bided aloof,
And drew my girths the tighter, and looked to the arms I bore
And handled my spear for the casting; for my heart misgave me sore,
For nought was that pillar of smoke like the guest-fain cooking-fire.
I lingered in thought for a minute, then turned me to ride up higher,
And as a man most wary up over the bent I rode,
And nigh hid peered o’er the hill-crest adown on the Hunding abode;
And forsooth ’twas the fire wavering all o’er the roof of old,
And all in the garth and about it lay the bodies of the bold;
And bound to a rope amidmost were the women fair and young,
And youths and little children, like the fish on a withy strung
As they lie on the grass for the angler before the beginning of night.
Then the rush of the wrath within me for a while nigh blinded my sight;
Yet about the cowering war-thralls, short dark-faced men I saw,
Men clad in iron armour, this way and that way draw,
As warriors after the battle are ever wont to do.
Then I knew them for the foemen and their deeds to be I knew,
And I gathered the reins together to ride down the hill amain,
To die with a good stroke stricken and slay ere I was slain.
When lo, on the bent before me rose the head of a brown-faced man,
Well helmed and iron-shielded, who some Welsh speech began
And a short sword brandished against me; then my sight cleared and I saw
Five others armed in likewise up hill and toward me draw,
And I shook the spear and sped it and clattering on his shield
He fell and rolled o’er smitten toward the garth and the Fell-folk’s field.

“But my heart changed with his falling and the speeding of my stroke,
And I turned my horse; for within me the love of life awoke,
And I spurred, nor heeded the hill-side, but o’er rough and smooth I rode
Till I heard no chase behind me; then I drew rein and abode.
And down in a dell was I gotten with a thorn-brake in its throat,
And heard but the plover’s whistle and the blackbird’s broken note
’Mid the thorns; when lo! from a thorn-twig away the blackbird swept,
And out from the brake and towards me a naked man there crept,
And straight I rode up towards him, and knew his face for one
I had seen in the hall of the Hundings ere its happy days were done.
I asked him his tale, but he bade me forthright to bear him away;
So I took him up behind me, and we rode till late in the day,
Toward the cover of the wild-wood, and as swiftly as we might.
But when yet aloof was the thicket and it now was moonless night,
We stayed perforce for a little, and he told me all the tale:
How the aliens came against them, and they fought without avail
Till the Roof o’er their heads was burning and they burst forth on the foe,
And were hewn down there together; nor yet was the slaughter slow.
But some they saved for thralldom, yea, e’en of the fighting men,
Or to quell them with pains; so they stripped them; and this man espying just then
Some chance, I mind not whatwise, from the garth fled out and away.

“Now many a thing noteworthy of these aliens did he say,
But this I bid you hearken, lest I wear the time for nought,
That still upon the Markmen and the Mark they set their thought;
For they questioned this man and others through a go-between in words
Of us, and our lands and our chattels, and the number of our swords;
Of the way and the wild-wood passes and the winter and his ways.
Now look to see them shortly; for worn are fifteen days
Since in the garth of the Hundings I saw them dight for war,
And a hardy folk and ready and a swift-foot host they are.”

Therewith Geirmund went down clattering from the Hill and stood with his company. But a man came forth from the other side of the ring, and clomb the Hill: he was a red-haired man, rather big, clad in a skin coat, and bearing a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows at his back, and a little axe hung by his side. He said:

“I dwell in the House of the Hrossings of the Mid-mark, and I am now made a man of the kindred: howbeit I was not born into it; for I am the son of a fair and mighty woman of a folk of the Kymry, who was taken in war while she went big with me; I am called Fox the Red.

“These Romans have I seen, and have not died: so hearken! for my tale shall be short for what there is in it.

“I am, as many know, a hunter of Mirkwood, and I know all its ways and the passes through the thicket somewhat better than most.

“A moon ago I fared afoot from Mid-mark through Upper-mark into the thicket of the south, and through it into the heath country; and I went over a neck and came in the early dawn into a little dale when somewhat of mist still hung over it. At the dale’s end I saw a man lying asleep on the grass under a quicken tree, and his shield and sword hanging over his head to a bough thereof, and his horse feeding hoppled higher up the dale.

“I crept up softly to him with a shaft nocked on the string, but when I drew near I saw him to be of the sons of the Goths. So I doubted nothing, but laid down my bow, and stood upright, and went to him and roused him, and he leapt up, and was wroth.

“I said to him, ‘Wilt thou be wroth with a brother of the kindred meeting him in unpeopled parts?’

“But he reached out for his weapons; but ere he could handle them I ran in on him so that he gat not his sword, and had scant time to smite at me with a knife which he drew from his waist.

“I gave way before him for he was a very big man, and he rushed past me, and I dealt him a blow on the side of the head with my little axe which is called the War-babe, and gave him a great wound: and he fell on the grass, and as it happened that was his bane.

“I was sorry that I had slain him, since he was a man of the Goths: albeit otherwise he had slain me, for he was very wroth and dazed with slumber.

“He died not for a while; and he bade me fetch him water; and there was a well hard by on the other side of the tree; so I fetched it him in a great shell that I carry, and he drank. I would have sung the blood-staunching song over him, for I know it well. But he said, ‘It availeth nought: I have enough: what man art thou?’

“I said, ‘I am a fosterling of the Hrossings, and my mother was taken in war: my name is Fox.’

“Said he; ‘O Fox, I have my due at thy hands, for I am a Markman of the Elkings, but a guest of the Burgundians beyond the Great River; and the Romans are their masters and they do their bidding: even so did I who was but their guest: and I a Markman to fight against the Markmen, and all for fear and for gold! And thou an alien-born hast slain their traitor and their dastard! This is my due. Give me to drink again.’

“So did I; and he said; ‘Wilt thou do an errand for me to thine own house?’ ‘Yea,’ said I.

“Said he, ‘I am a messenger to the garth of the Romans, that I may tell the road to the Mark, and lead them through the thicket; and other guides are coming after me: but not yet for three days or four. So till they come there will be no man in the Roman garth to know thee that thou art not even I myself. If thou art doughty, strip me when I am dead and do my raiment on thee, and take this ring from my neck, for that is my token, and when they ask thee for a word say, “No limit”; for that is the token-word. Go south-east over the dales keeping Broadshield-fell square with thy right hand, and let thy wisdom, O Fox, lead thee to the Garth of the Romans, and so back to thy kindred with all tidings thou hast gathered—for indeed they come—a many of them. Give me to drink.’

“So he drank again, and said, ‘The bearer of this token is called Hrosstyr of the River Goths. He hath that name among dastards. Thou shalt lay a turf upon my head. Let my death pay for my life.’

“Therewith he fell back and died. So I did as he bade me and took his gear, worth six kine, and did it on me; I laid turf upon him in that dale, and hid my bow and my gear in a blackthorn brake hard by, and then took his horse and rode away.

“Day and night I rode till I came to the garth of the Romans; there I gave myself up to their watchers, and they brought me to their Duke, a grim man and hard. He said in a terrible voice, ‘Thy name?’ I said, ‘Hrosstyr of the River Goths.’ He said, ‘What limit?’ I answered, ‘No limit.’ ‘The token!’ said he, and held out his hand. I gave him the ring. ‘Thou art the man,’ said he.

“I thought in my heart, ‘thou liest, lord,’ and my heart danced for joy.

“Then he fell to asking me questions a many, and I answered every one glibly enough, and told him what I would, but no word of truth save for his hurt, and my soul laughed within me at my lies; thought I, the others, the traitors, shall come, and they shall tell him the truth, and he will not trow it, or at the worst he will doubt them. But me he doubted nothing, else had he called in the tormentors to have the truth of me by pains; as I well saw afterwards, when they questioned with torments a man and a woman of the hill-folk whom they had brought in captive.

“I went from him and went all about that garth espying everything, fearing nothing; albeit there were divers woful captives of the Goths, who cursed me for a dastard, when they saw by my attire that I was of their blood.

“I abode there three days, and learned all that I might of the garth and the host of them, and the fourth day in the morning I went out as if to hunt, and none hindered me, for they doubted me not.

“So I came my ways home to the Upper-mark, and was guested with the Geirings. Will ye that I tell you somewhat of the ways of these Romans of the garth? The time presses, and my tale runneth longer than I would. What will ye?”

Then there arose a murmur, “Tell all, tell all.” “Nay,” said the Fox, “All I may not tell; so much did I behold there during the three days’ stay; but this much it behoveth you to know: that these men have no other thought save to win the Mark and waste it, and slay the fighting men and the old carles, and enthrall such as they will, that is, all that be fair and young, and they long sorely for our women either to have or to sell.

“As for their garth, it is strongly walled about with a dyke newly dug; on the top thereof are they building a wall made of clay, and burned like pots into ashlar stones hard and red, and these are laid in lime.

“It is now the toil of the thralls of our blood whom they have taken, both men and women, to dig that clay and to work it, and bear it to kilns, and to have for reward scant meat and many stripes. For it is a grim folk, that laugheth to see others weep.

“Their men-at-arms are well dight and for the most part in one way: they are helmed with iron, and have iron on their breasts and reins, and bear long shields that cover them to the knees. They are girt with a sax and have a heavy casting-spear. They are dark-skinned and ugly of aspect, surly and of few words: they drink little, and eat not much.

“They have captains of tens and of hundreds over them, and that war-duke over all; he goeth to and fro with gold on his head and his breast, and commonly hath a cloak cast over him of the colour of the crane’s-bill blossom.

“They have an altar in the midst of their burg, and thereon they sacrifice to their God, who is none other than their banner of war, which is an image of the ravening eagle with outspread wings; but yet another God they have, and look you! it is a wolf, as if they were of the kin of our brethren; a she-wolf and two man-children at her dugs; wonderful is this.

“I tell you that they are grim; and know it by this token: those captains of tens, and of hundreds, spare not to smite the warriors with staves even before all men, when all goeth not as they would; and yet, though they be free men, and mighty warriors, they endure it and smite not in turn. They are a most evil folk.

“As to their numbers, they of the burg are hard on three thousand footmen of the best; and of horsemen five hundred, nowise good; and of bowmen and slingers six hundred or more: their bows weak; their slingers cunning beyond measure. And the talk is that when they come upon us they shall have with them some five hundred warriors of the Over River Goths, and others of their own folk.”

Then he said:

“O men of the Mark, will ye meet them in the meadows and the field,
Or will ye flee before them and have the wood for a shield?
Or will ye wend to their war-burg with weapons cast away,
With your women and your children, a peace of them to pray?
So doing, not all shall perish; but most shall long to die
Ere in the garths of the Southland two moons have loitered by.”

Then rose the rumour loud and angry mingled with the rattle of swords and the clash of spears on shields; but Fox said:

“Needs must ye follow one of these three ways. Nay, what say I? there are but two ways and not three; for if ye flee they shall follow you to the confines of the earth. Either these Welsh shall take all, and our lives to boot, or we shall hold to all that is ours, and live merrily. The sword doometh; and in three days it may be the courts shall be hallowed: small is the space between us.”

Therewith he also got him down from the Hill, and joined his own house: and men said that he had spoken well and wisely. But there arose a noise of men talking together on these tidings; and amidst it an old warrior of the Nether-mark strode forth and up to the Hill-top. Gaunt and stark he was to look on; and all men knew him and he was well-beloved, so all held their peace as he said:

“I am Otter of the Laxings: now needeth but few words till the War-duke is chosen, and we get ready to wend our ways in arms. Here have ye heard three good men and true tell of our foes, and this last, Fox the Red, hath seen them and hath more to tell when we are on the way; nor is the way hard to find. It were scarce well to fall upon these men in their garth and war-burg; for hard is a wall to slay. Better it were to meet them in the Wild-wood, which may well be a friend to us and a wall, but to them a net. O Agni of the Daylings, thou warder of the Thing-stead, bid men choose a War-duke if none gainsay it.”

And without more words he clattered down the Hill, and went and stood with the Laxing band. But the old Dayling arose and blew the horn, and there was at once a great silence, amidst which he said:

“Children of Slains-father, doth the Folk go to the war?”

There was no voice but shouted “yea,” and the white swords sprang aloft, and the westering sun swept along a half of them as they tossed to and fro, and the others showed dead-white and fireless against the dark wood.

Then again spake Agni:

“Will ye choose the War-duke now and once, or shall it be in a while, after others have spoken?”

And the voice of the Folk went up, “Choose! Choose!”

Said Agni: “Sayeth any aught against it?” But no voice of a gainsayer was heard, and Agni said:

“Children of Tyr, what man will ye have for a leader and a duke of war?”

Then a great shout sprang up from amidst the swords: “We will have Thiodolf; Thiodolf the Wolfing!”

Said Agni: “I hear no other name; are ye of one mind? hath any aught to say against it? If that be so, let him speak now, and not forbear to follow in the wheatfield of the spears. Speak, ye that will not follow Thiodolf!”

No voice gainsaid him: then said the Dayling: “Come forth thou War-duke of the Markmen! take up the gold ring from the horns of the altar, set it on thine arm and come up hither!”

Then came forth Thiodolf into the sun, and took up the gold ring from where it lay, and did it on his arm. And this was the ring of the leader of the folk whenso one should be chosen: it was ancient and daintily wrought, but not very heavy: so ancient it was that men said it had been wrought by the dwarfs.

So Thiodolf went up on to the hill, and all men cried out on him for joy, for they knew his wisdom in war. Many wondered to see him unhelmed, but they had a deeming that he must have made oath to the Gods thereof and their hearts were glad of it. They took note of the dwarf-wrought hauberk, and even from a good way off they could see what a treasure of smith’s work it was, and they deemed it like enough that spells had been sung over it to make it sure against point and edge: for they knew that Thiodolf was well beloved of the Gods.

But when Thiodolf was on the Hill of Speech, he said:

“Men of the kindreds, I am your War-duke to-day; but it is oftenest the custom when ye go to war to choose you two dukes, and I would it were so now. No child’s play is the work that lies before us; and if one leader chance to fall let there be another to take his place without stop or stay. Thou Agni of the Daylings, bid the Folk choose them another duke if so they will.”

Said Agni: “Good is this which our War-duke hath spoken; say then, men of the Mark, who shall stand with Thiodolf to lead you against the aliens?”

Then was there a noise and a crying of names, and more than two names seemed to be cried out; but by far the greater part named either Otter of the Laxings, or Heriulf of the Wolfings. True it is that Otter was a very wise warrior, and well known to all the men of the Mark; yet so dear was Heriulf to them, that none would have named Otter had it not been mostly their custom not to choose both War-dukes from one House.

Now spake Agni: “Children of Tyr, I hear you name more than one name: now let each man cry out clearly the name he nameth.”

So the Folk cried the names once more, but this time it was clear that none was named save Otter and Heriulf; so the Dayling was at point to speak again, but or ever a word left his lips, Heriulf the mighty, the ancient of days, stood forth: and when men saw that he would take up the word there was a great silence. So he spake:

“Hearken, children! I am old and war-wise; but my wisdom is the wisdom of the sword of the mighty warrior, that knoweth which way it should wend, and hath no thought of turning back till it lieth broken in the field. Such wisdom is good against Folks that we have met heretofore; as when we have fought with the Huns, who would sweep us away from the face of the earth, or with the Franks or the Burgundians, who would quell us into being something worser than they be. But here is a new foe, and new wisdom, and that right shifty, do we need to meet them. One wise duke have ye gotten, Thiodolf to wit; and he is young beside me and beside Otter of the Laxings. And now if ye must needs have an older man to stand beside him, (and that is not ill) take ye Otter; for old though his body be, the thought within him is keen and supple like the best of Welsh-wrought blades, and it liveth in the days that now are: whereas for me, meseemeth, my thoughts are in the days bygone. Yet look to it, that I shall not fail to lead as the sword of the valiant leadeth, or the shaft shot by the cunning archer. Choose ye Otter; I have spoken over long.”

Then spoke Agni the Dayling, and laughed withal: “One man of the Folk hath spoken for Otter and against Heriulf—now let others speak if they will!”

So the cry came forth, “Otter let it be, we will have Otter!”

“Speaketh any against Otter?” said Agni. But there was no voice raised against him.

Then Agni said: “Come forth, Otter of the Laxings, and hold the ring with Thiodolf.”

Then Otter went up on to the hill and stood by Thiodolf, and they held the ring together; and then each thrust his hand and arm through the ring and clasped hands together, and stood thus awhile, and all the Folk shouted together.

Then spake Agni: “Now shall we hew the horses and give the gifts to the Gods.”

Therewith he and the two War-dukes came down from the hill; and stood before the altar; and the nine warriors of the Daylings stood forth with axes to hew the horses and with copper bowls wherein to catch the blood of them, and each hewed down his horse to the Gods, but the two War-dukes slew the tenth and fairest: and the blood was caught in the bowls, and Agni took a sprinkler and went round about the ring of men, and cast the blood of the Gods’-gifts over the Folk, as was the custom of those days.

Then they cut up the carcases and burned on the altar the share of the Gods, and Agni and the War-dukes tasted thereof, and the rest they bore off to the Daylings’ abode for the feast to be holden that night.

Then Otter and Thiodolf spake apart together for awhile, and presently went up again on to the Speech-Hill, and Thiodolf said:

“O kindreds of the Markmen; to-morrow with the day
We shall wend up Mirkwood-water to bar our foes the way;
And there shall we make our wain-burg on the edges of the wood,
Where in the days past over at last the aliens stood,
The Slaughter Tofts ye call it. There tidings shall we get
If the curse of the world is awakened, and the serpent crawleth yet
Amidst the Mirkwood thicket; and when the sooth we know,
Then bearing battle with us through the thicket shall we go,
The ancient Wood-wolf’s children, and the People of the Shield,
And the Spear-kin and the Horse-kin, while the others keep the field
About the warded wain-burg; for not many need we there
Where amidst of the thickets’ tangle and the woodland net they fare,
And the hearts of the aliens falter and they curse the fight ne’er done,
And wonder who is fighting and which way is the sun.”

Thus he spoke; then Agni took up the war-horn again, and blew a blast, and then he cried out:

“Now sunder we the Folk-mote! and the feast is for to-night,
And to-morrow the Wayfaring; But unnamed is the day of the fight;
O warriors, look ye to it that not long we need abide
’Twixt the hour of the word we have spoken, and our fair-fame’s blooming tide!
For then ’midst the toil and the turmoil shall we sow the seeds of peace,
And the Kindreds’ long endurance, and the Goth-folk’s great increase.”

Then arose the last great shout, and soberly and in due order, kindred by kindred, they turned and departed from the Thing-stead and went their way through the wood to the abode of the Daylings.

CHAPTER IX—THE ANCIENT MAN OF THE DAYLINGS

There still hung the more part of the stay-at-homes round about the Roof. But on the plain beneath the tofts were all the wains of the host drawn up round about a square like the streets about a market-place; all these now had their tilts rigged over them, some white, some black, some red, some tawny of hue; and some, which were of the Beamings, green like the leafy tree.

The warriors of the host went down into this wain-town, which they had not fenced in any way, since they in no wise looked for any onset there; and there were their thralls dighting the feast for them, and a many of the Dayling kindred, both men and women, went with them; but some men did the Daylings bring into their Roof, for there was room for a good many besides their own folk. So they went over the Bridge of turf into the garth and into the Great Roof of the Daylings; and amongst these were the two War-dukes.

So when they came to the dais it was as fair all round about there as might well be; and there sat elders and ancient warriors to welcome the guests; and among them was the old carle who had sat on the edge of the burg to watch the faring of the host, and had shuddered back at the sight of the Wolfing Banner.

And when the old carle saw the guests, he fixed his eyes on Thiodolf, and presently came up and stood before him; and Thiodolf looked on the old man, and greeted him kindly and smiled on him; but the carle spake not till he had looked on him a while; and at last he fell a-trembling, and reached his hands out to Thiodolf’s bare head, and handled his curls and caressed them, as a mother does with her son, even if he be a grizzled-haired man, when there is none by: and at last he said:

“How dear is the head of the mighty, and the apple of the tree
That blooms with the life of the people which is and yet shall be!
It is helmed with ancient wisdom, and the long remembered thought,
That liveth when dead is the iron, and its very rust but nought.
Ah! were I but young as aforetime, I would fare to the battle-stead
And stand amidst of the spear-hail for the praise of the hand and the head!”

Then his hands left Thiodolf’s head, and strayed down to his shoulders and his breast, and he felt the cold rings of the hauberk, and let his hands fall down to his side again; and the tears gushed out of his old eyes and again he spake:

“O house of the heart of the mighty, O breast of the battle-lord
Why art thou coldly hidden from the flickering flame of the sword?
I know thee not, nor see thee; thou art as the fells afar
Where the Fathers have their dwelling, and the halls of Godhome are:
The wind blows wild betwixt us, and the cloud-rack flies along,
And high aloft enfoldeth the dwelling of the strong;
They are, as of old they have been, but their hearths flame not for me;
And the kindness of their feast-halls mine eyes shall never see.”

Thiodolf’s lips still smiled on the old man, but a shadow had come over his eyes and his brow; and the chief of the Daylings and their mighty guests stood by listening intently with the knit brows of anxious men; nor did any speak till the ancient man again betook him to words:

“I came to the house of the foeman when hunger made me a fool;
And the foeman said, ‘Thou art weary, lo, set thy foot on the stool;’
And I stretched out my feet,—and was shackled: and he spake with a dastard’s smile,
‘O guest, thine hands are heavy; now rest them for a while!’
So I stretched out my hands, and the hand-gyves lay cold on either wrist:
And the wood of the wolf had been better than that feast-hall, had I wist
That this was the ancient pit-fall, and the long expected trap,
And that now for my heart’s desire I had sold the world’s goodhap.”

Therewith the ancient man turned slowly away from Thiodolf, and departed sadly to his own place. Thiodolf changed countenance but little, albeit those about him looked strangely on him, as though if they durst they would ask him what these words might be, and if he from his hidden knowledge might fit a meaning to them. For to many there was a word of warning in them, and to some an evil omen of the days soon to be; and scarce anyone heard those words but he had a misgiving in his heart, for the ancient man was known to be foreseeing, and wild and strange his words seemed to them.

But Agni would make light of it, and he said: “Asmund the Old is of good will, and wise he is; but he hath great longings for the deeds of men, when he hath tidings of battle; for a great warrior and a red-hand hewer he hath been in times past; he loves the Kindred, and deems it ill if he may not fare afield with them; for the thought of dying in the straw is hateful to him.”

“Yea,” said another, “and moreover he hath seen sons whom he loved slain in battle; and when he seeth a warrior in his prime he becometh dear to him, and he feareth for him.”

“Yet,” said a third, “Asmund is foreseeing; and may be, Thiodolf, thou wilt wot of the drift of these words, and tell us thereof.”

But Thiodolf spake nought of the matter, though in his heart he pondered it.

So the guests were led to table, and the feast began, within the hall and without it, and wide about the plain; and the Dayling maidens went in bands trimly decked out throughout all the host and served the warriors with meat and drink, and sang the overword to their lays, and smote the harp, and drew the bow over the fiddle till it laughed and wailed and chuckled, and were blithe and merry with all, and great was the glee on the eve of battle. And if Thiodolf’s heart were overcast, his face showed it not, but he passed from hall to wain-burg and from wain-burg to hall again blithe and joyous with all men. And thereby he raised the hearts of men, and they deemed it good that they had gotten such a War-duke, meet to uphold all hearts of men both at the feast and in the fray.

CHAPTER X—THAT CARLINE COMETH TO THE ROOF OF THE WOLFINGS

Now it was three days after this that the women were gathering to the Women’s-Chamber of the Roof of the Wolfings a little before the afternoon changes into evening. The hearts of most were somewhat heavy, for the doubt wherewith they had watched the departure of the fighting-men still hung about them; nor had they any tidings from the host (nor was it like that they should have). And as they were somewhat down-hearted, so it seemed by the aspect of all things that afternoon. It was not yet the evening, as is aforesaid, but the day was worn and worsened, and all things looked weary. The sky was a little clouded, but not much; yet was it murky down in the south-east, and there was a threat of storm in it, and in the air close round each man’s head, and in the very waving of the leafy boughs. There was by this time little doing in field and fold (for the kine were milked), and the women were coming up from the acres and the meadow and over the open ground anigh the Roof; there was the grass worn and dusty, and the women that trod it, their feet were tanned and worn, and dusty also; skin-dry and weary they looked, with the sweat dried upon them; their girt-up gowns grey and lightless, their half-unbound hair blowing about them in the dry wind, which had in it no morning freshness, and no evening coolness.

It was a time when toil was well-nigh done, but had left its aching behind it; a time for folk to sleep and forget for a little while, till the low sun should make it evening, and make all things fair with his level rays; no time for anxious thoughts concerning deeds doing, wherein the anxious ones could do nought to help. Yet such thoughts those stay-at-homes needs must have in the hour of their toil scarce over, their rest and mirth not begun.

Slowly one by one the women went in by the Women’s-door, and the Hall-Sun sat on a stone hard by, and watched them as they passed; and she looked keenly at all persons and all things. She had been working in the acres, and her hand was yet on the hoe she had been using, and but for her face her body was as of one resting after toil: her dark blue gown was ungirded, her dark hair loose and floating, the flowers that had wreathed it, now faded, lying strewn upon the grass before her: her feet bare for coolness’ sake, her left hand lying loose and open upon her knee.

Yet though her body otherwise looked thus listless, in her face was no listlessness, nor rest: her eyes were alert and clear, shining like two stars in the heavens of dawn-tide; her lips were set close, her brow knit, as of one striving to shape thoughts hard to understand into words that all might understand.

So she sat noting all things, as woman by woman went past her into the hall, till at last she slowly rose to her feet; for there came two young women leading between them that same old carline with whom she had talked on the Hill-of-Speech. She looked on the carline steadfastly, but gave no token of knowing her; but the ancient woman spoke when she came near to the Hall-Sun, and old as her semblance was, yet did her speech sound sweet to the Hall-Sun, and indeed to all those that heard it and she said:

“May we be here to-night, O Hall-Sun, thou lovely Seeress of the mighty Wolfings? may a wandering woman sit amongst you and eat the meat of the Wolfings?”

Then spake the Hall-Sun in a sweet measured voice: “Surely mother: all men who bring peace with them are welcome guests to the Wolfings: nor will any ask thine errand, but we will let thy tidings flow from thee as thou wilt. This is the custom of the kindred, and no word of mine own; I speak to thee because thou hast spoken to me, but I have no authority here, being myself but an alien. Albeit I serve the House of the Wolfings, and I love it as the hound loveth his master who feedeth him, and his master’s children who play with him. Enter, mother, and be glad of heart, and put away care from thee.”

Then the old woman drew nigher to her and sat down in the dust at her feet, for she was now sitting down again, and took her hand and kissed it and fondled it, and seemed loth to leave handling the beauty of the Hall-Sun; but she looked kindly on the carline, and smiled on her, and leaned down to her, and kissed her mouth, and said:

“Damsels, take care of this poor woman, and make her good cheer; for she is wise of wit, and a friend of the Wolfings; and I have seen her before, and spoken with her; and she loveth us. But as for me I must needs be alone in the meads for a while; and it may be that when I come to you again, I shall have a word to tell you.”

Now indeed it was in a manner true that the Hall-Sun had no authority in the Wolfing House; yet was she so well beloved for her wisdom and beauty and her sweet speech, that all hastened to do her will in small matters and in great, and now as they looked at her after the old woman had caressed her, it seemed to them that her fairness grew under their eyes, and that they had never seen her so fair; and the sight of her seemed so good to them, that the outworn day and its weariness changed to them, and it grew as pleasant as the first hours of the sunlight, when men arise happy from their rest, and look on the day that lieth hopeful before them with all its deeds to be.

So they grew merry, and they led the carline into the Hall with them, and set her down in the Women’s-Chamber, and washed her feet, and gave her meat and drink, and bade her rest and think of nothing troublous, and in all wise made her good cheer; and she was merry with them, and praised their fairness and their deftness, and asked them many questions about their weaving and spinning and carding; (howbeit the looms were idle as then because it was midsummer, and the men gone to the war). And this they deemed strange, as it seemed to them that all women should know of such things; but they thought it was a token that she came from far away.

But afterwards she sat among them, and told them pleasant tales of past times and far countries, and was blithe to them and they to her and the time wore on toward nightfall in the Women’s-Chamber.

CHAPTER XI—THE HALL-SUN SPEAKETH

But for the Hall-Sun; she sat long on that stone by the Women’s-door; but when the evening was now come, she arose and went down through the cornfields and into the meadow, and wandered away as her feet took her.

Night was falling by then she reached that pool of Mirkwood-water, whose eddies she knew so well. There she let the water cover her in the deep stream, and she floated down and sported with the ripples where the river left that deep to race over the shallows; and the moon was casting shadows by then she came up the bank again by the shallow end bearing in her arms a bundle of the blue-flowering mouse-ear. Then she clad herself at once, and went straight as one with a set purpose toward the Great Roof, and entered by the Man’s-door; and there were few men within and they but old and heavy with the burden of years and the coming of night-tide; but they wondered and looked to each other and nodded their heads as she passed them by, as men who would say, There is something toward.

So she went to her sleeping-place, and did on fresh raiment, and came forth presently clad in white and shod with gold and having her hair wreathed about with the herb of wonder, the blue-flowering mouse-ear of Mirkwood-water. Thus she passed through the Hall, and those elders were stirred in their hearts when they beheld her beauty. But she opened the door of the Women’s-Chamber, and stood on the threshold; and lo, there sat the carline amidst a ring of the Wolfing women, and she telling them tales of old time such as they had not yet heard; and her eyes were glittering, and the sweet words were flowing from her mouth; but she sat straight up like a young woman; and at whiles it seemed to those who hearkened, that she was no old and outworn woman, but fair and strong, and of much avail. But when she heard the Hall-Sun she turned and saw her on the threshold, and her speech fell suddenly, and all that might and briskness faded from her, and she fixed her eyes on the Hall-Sun and looked wistfully and anxiously on her.

Then spake the Hall-Sun standing in the doorway:

“Hear ye a matter, maidens, and ye Wolfing women all,
And thou alien guest of the Wolfings! But come ye up the hall,
That the ancient men may hearken: for methinks I have a word
Of the battle of the Kindreds, and the harvest of the sword.”

Then all arose up with great joy, for they knew that the tidings were good, when they looked on the face of the Hall-Sun and beheld the pride of her beauty unmarred by doubt or pain.

She led them forth to the dais, and there were the sick and the elders gathered and some ancient men of the thralls: so she stepped lightly up to her place, and stood under her namesake, the wondrous lamp of ancient days. And thus she spake:

“On my soul there lies no burden, and no tangle of the fight
In plain or dale or wild-wood enmeshes now my sight.
I see the Markmen’s wain-burg, and I see their warriors go
As men who wait for battle and the coming of the foe.
And they pass ’twixt the wood and the wain-burg within earshot of the horn,
But over the windy meadows no sound thereof is borne,
And all is well amongst them. To the burg I draw anigh
And I see all battle-banners in the breeze of morning fly,
But no Wolfings round their banner and no warrior of the Shield,
No Geiring and no Hrossing in the burg or on the field.”

She held her peace for a little while, and no one dared to speak; then she lifted up her head and spake:

“Now I go by the lip of the wild-wood and a sound withal I hear,
As of men in the paths of the thicket, and a many drawing anear.
Then, muffled yet by the tree-boles, I hear the Shielding song,
And warriors blithe and merry with the battle of the strong.
Give back a little, Markmen, make way for men to pass
To your ordered battle-dwelling o’er the trodden meadow-grass,
For alive with men is the wild-wood and shineth with the steel,
And hath a voice most merry to tell of the Kindreds’ weal,
’Twixt each tree a warrior standeth come back from the spear-strewn way,
And forth they come from the wild-wood and a little band are they.”

Then again was she silent; but her head sank not, as of one thinking, as before it did, but she looked straight forward with bright eyes and smiling, as she said:

“Lo, now the guests they are bringing that ye have not seen before;
Yet guests but ill-entreated; for they lack their shields of war,
No spear in the hand they carry and with no sax are girt.
Lo, these are the dreaded foemen, these once so strong to hurt;
The men that all folk fled from, the swift to drive the spoil,
The men that fashioned nothing but the trap to make men toil.
They drew the sword in the cities, they came and struck the stroke
And smote the shield of the Markmen, and point and edge they broke.
They drew the sword in the war-garth, they swore to bring aback
God’s gifts from the Markmen houses where the tables never lack.
O Markmen, take the God-gifts that came on their own feet
O’er the hills through the Mirkwood thicket the Stone of Tyr to meet!”

Again she stayed her song, which had been loud and joyous, and they who heard her knew that the Kindreds had gained the day, and whilst the Hall-Sun was silent they fell to talking of this fair day of battle and the taking of captives. But presently she spread out her hands again and they held their peace, and she said:

“I see, O Wolfing women, and many a thing I see,
But not all things, O elders, this eve shall ye learn of me,
For another mouth there cometh: the thicket I behold
And the Sons of Tyr amidst it, and I see the oak-trees old,
And the war-shout ringing round them; and I see the battle-lord
Unhelmed amidst of the mighty; and I see his leaping sword;
Strokes struck and warriors falling, and the streaks of spears I see,
But hereof shall the other tell you who speaketh after me.
For none other than the Shieldings from out the wood have come,
And they shift the turn with the Daylings to drive the folk-spear home,
And to follow with the Wolfings and thrust the war-beast forth.
And so good men deem the tidings that they bid them journey north
On the feet of a Shielding runner, that Gisli hath to name;
And west of the water he wendeth by the way that the Wolfings came;
Now for sleep he tarries never, and no meat is in his mouth
Till the first of the Houses hearkeneth the tidings of the south;
Lo, he speaks, and the mead-sea sippeth, and the bread by the way doth eat,
And over the Geiring threshold and outward pass his feet;
And he breasts the Burg of the Daylings and saith his happy word,
And stayeth to drink for a minute of the waves of Battleford.
Lone then by the stream he runneth, and wendeth the wild-wood road,
And dasheth through the hazels of the Oselings’ fair abode,
And the Elking women know it, and their hearts are glad once more,
And ye—yea, hearken, Wolfings, for his feet are at the door.”

CHAPTER XII—TIDINGS OF THE BATTLE IN MIRKWOOD

As the Hall-Sun made an end they heard in good sooth the feet of the runner on the hard ground without the hall, and presently the door opened and he came leaping over the threshold, and up to the table, and stood leaning on it with one hand, his breast heaving with his last swift run. Then he spake presently:

“I am Gisli of the Shieldings: Otter sendeth me to the Hall-Sun; but on the way I was to tell tidings to the Houses west of the Water: so have I done. Now is my journey ended; for Otter saith: ‘Let the Hall-Sun note the tidings and send word of them by four of the lightest limbed of the women, or by lads a-horseback, both west and east of the Water; let her send the word as it seemeth to her, whether she hath seen it or not. I will drink a short draught since my running is over.”

Then a damsel brought him a horn of mead and let it come into his hand, and he drank sighing with pleasure, while the damsel for pleasure of him and his tidings laid her hand on his shoulder. Then he set down the horn and spake:

“We, the Shieldings, with the Geirings, the Hrossings, and the Wolfings, three hundred warriors and more, were led into the Wood by Thiodolf the War-duke, beside whom went Fox, who hath seen the Romans. We were all afoot; for there is no wide way through the Wood, nor would we have it otherwise, lest the foe find the thicket easy. But many of us know the thicket and its ways; so we made not the easy hard. I was near the War-duke, for I know the thicket and am light-foot: I am a bowman. I saw Thiodolf that he was unhelmed and bore no shield, nor had he any coat of fence; nought but a deer-skin frock.”

As he said that word, the carline, who had drawn very near to him and was looking hard at his face, turned and looked on the Hall-Sun and stared at her till she reddened under those keen eyes: for in her heart began to gather some knowledge of the tale of her mother and what her will was.

But Gisli went on: “Yet by his side was his mighty sword, and we all knew it for Throng-plough, and were glad of it and of him and the unfenced breast of the dauntless. Six hours we went spreading wide through the thicket, not always seeing one another, but knowing one another to be nigh; those that knew the thicket best led, the others followed on. So we went till it was high noon on the plain and glimmering dusk in the thicket, and we saw nought, save here and there a roe, and here and there a sounder of swine, and coneys where it was opener, and the sun shone and the grass grew for a little space. So came we unto where the thicket ended suddenly, and there was a long glade of the wild-wood, all set about with great oak-trees and grass thereunder, which I knew well; and thereof the tale tells that it was a holy place of the folk who abided in these parts before the Sons of the Goths. Now will I drink.”

So he drank of the horn and said: “It seemeth that Fox had a deeming of the way the Romans should come; so now we abided in the thicket without that glade and lay quiet and hidden, spreading ourselves as much about that lawn of the oak-trees as we might, the while Fox and three others crept through the wood to espy what might be toward: not long had they been gone ere we heard a war-horn blow, and it was none of our horns: it was a long way off, but we looked to our weapons: for men are eager for the foe and the death that cometh, when they lie hidden in the thicket. A while passed, and again we heard the horn, and it was nigher and had a marvellous voice; then in a while was a little noise of men, not their voices, but footsteps going warily through the brake to the south, and twelve men came slowly and warily into that oak-lawn, and lo, one of them was Fox; but he was clad in the raiment of the dastard of the Goths whom he had slain. I tell you my heart beat, for I saw that the others were Roman men, and one of them seemed to be a man of authority, and he held Fox by the shoulder, and pointed to the thicket where we lay, and something he said to him, as we saw by his gesture and face, but his voice we heard not, for he spake soft.

“Then of those ten men of his he sent back two, and Fox going between them, as though he should be slain if he misled them; and he and the eight abided there wisely and warily, standing silently some six feet from each other, moving scarce at all, but looking like images fashioned of brown copper and iron; holding their casting-spears (which be marvellous heavy weapons) and girt with the sax.

“As they stood there, not out of earshot of a man speaking in his wonted voice, our War-duke made a sign to those about him, and we spread very quietly to the right hand and the left of him once more, and we drew as close as might be to the thicket’s edge, and those who had bows the nighest thereto. Thus then we abided a while again; and again came the horn’s voice; for belike they had no mind to come their ways covertly because of their pride.

“Soon therewithal comes Fox creeping back to us, and I saw him whisper into the ear of the War-duke, but heard not the word he said. I saw that he had hanging to him two Roman saxes, so I deemed he had slain those two, and so escaped the Romans. Maidens, it were well that ye gave me to drink again, for I am weary and my journey is done.”

So again they brought him the horn, and made much of him; and he drank, and then spake on.

“Now heard we the horn’s voice again quite close, and it was sharp and shrill, and nothing like to the roar of our battle-horns: still was the wood and no wind abroad, not even down the oak-lawn; and we heard now the tramp of many men as they thrashed through the small wood and bracken of the thicket-way; and those eight men and their leader came forward, moving like one, close up to the thicket where I lay, just where the path passed into the thicket beset by the Sons of the Goths: so near they were that I could see the dints upon their armour, and the strands of the wire on their sax-handles. Down then bowed the tall bracken on the further side of the wood-lawn, the thicket crashed before the march of men, and on they strode into the lawn, a goodly band, wary, alert, and silent of cries.

“But when they came into the lawn they spread out somewhat to their left hands, that is to say on the west side, for that way was the clear glade; but on the east the thicket came close up to them and edged them away. Therein lay the Goths.

“There they stayed awhile, and spread out but a little, as men marching, not as men fighting. A while we let them be; and we saw their captain, no big man, but dight with very fair armour and weapons; and there drew up to him certain Goths armed, the dastards of the folk, and another unarmed, an old man bound and bleeding. With these Goths had the captain some converse, and presently he cried out two or three words of Welsh in a loud voice, and the nine men who were ahead shifted them somewhat away from us to lead down the glade westward.

“The prey had come into the net, but they had turned their faces toward the mouth of it.

“Then turned Thiodolf swiftly to the man behind him who carried the war-horn, and every man handled his weapons: but that man understood, and set the little end to his mouth, and loud roared the horn of the Markmen, and neither friend nor foe misdoubted the tale thereof. Then leaped every man to his feet, all bow-strings twanged and the cast-spears flew; no man forebore to shout; each as he might leapt out of the thicket and fell on with sword and axe and spear, for it was from the bowmen but one shaft and no more.

“Then might you have seen Thiodolf as he bounded forward like the wild-cat on the hare, how he had no eyes for any save the Roman captain. Foemen enough he had round about him after the two first bounds from the thicket; for the Romans were doing their best to spread, that they might handle those heavy cast-spears, though they might scarce do it, just come out of the thicket as they were, and thrust together by that onslaught of the kindreds falling on from two sides and even somewhat from behind. To right and left flashed Throng-plough, while Thiodolf himself scarce seemed to guide it: men fell before him at once, and close at his heels poured the Wolfing kindred into the gap, and in a minute of time was he amidst of the throng and face to face with the gold-dight captain.

“What with the sweep of Throng-plough and the Wolfing onrush, there was space about him for a great stroke; he gave a side-long stroke to his right and hewed down a tall Burgundian, and then up sprang the white blade, but ere its edge fell he turned his wrist, and drove the point through that Captain’s throat just above the ending of his hauberk, so that he fell dead amidst of his folk.

“All the four kindreds were on them now, and amidst them, and needs must they give way: but stoutly they fought; for surely no other warriors might have withstood that onslaught of the Markmen for the twinkling of an eye: but had the Romans had but the space to have spread themselves out there, so as to handle their shot-weapons, many a woman’s son of us had fallen; for no man shielded himself in his eagerness, but let the swiftness of the Onset of point-and-edge shield him; which, sooth to say, is often a good shield, as here was found.

“So those that were unslain and unhurt fled west along the glade, but not as dastards, and had not Thiodolf followed hard in the chase according to his wont, they might even yet have made a fresh stand and spread from oak-tree to oak-tree across the glade: but as it befel, they might not get a fair offing so as to disentangle themselves and array themselves in good order side by side; and whereas the Markmen were fleet of foot, and in the woods they knew, there were a many aliens slain in the chase or taken alive unhurt or little hurt: but the rest fled this way and that way into the thicket, with whom were some of the Burgundians; so there they abide now as outcasts and men unholy, to be slain as wild-beasts one by one as we meet them.

“Such then was the battle in Mirkwood. Give me the mead-horn that I may drink to the living and the dead, and the memory of the dead, and the deeds of the living that are to be.”

So they brought him the horn, and he waved it over his head and drank again and spake:

“Sixty and three dead men of the Romans we counted there up and down that oak-glade; and we cast earth over them; and three dead dastards of the Goths, and we left them for the wolves to deal with. And twenty-five men of the Romans we took alive to be for hostages if need should be, and these did we Shielding men, who are not very many, bring aback to the wain-burg; and the Daylings, who are a great company, were appointed to enter the wood and be with Thiodolf; and me did Otter bid to bear the tidings, even as I have told you. And I have not loitered by the way.”

Great then was the joy in the Hall; and they took Gisli, and made much of him, and led him to the bath, and clad him in fine raiment taken from the coffer which was but seldom opened, because the cloths it held were precious; and they set a garland of green wheat-ears on his head. Then they fell to and spread the feast in the hall; and they ate and drank and were merry.

But as for speeding the tidings, the Hall-Sun sent two women and two lads, all a-horseback, to bear the words: the women to remember the words which she taught them carefully, the lads to be handy with the horses, or in the ford, or the swimming of the deeps, or in the thicket. So they went their ways, down the water: one pair went on the western side, and the other crossed Mirkwood-water at the shallows (for being Midsummer the water was but small), and went along the east side, so that all the kindred might know of the tidings and rejoice.

Great was the glee in the Hall, though the warriors of the House were away, and many a song and lay they sang: but amidst the first of the singing they bethought them of the old woman, and would have bidden her tell them some tale of times past, since she was so wise in the ancient lore. But when they sought for her on all sides she was not to be found, nor could anyone remember seeing her depart from the Hall. But this had they no call to heed, and the feast ended, as it began, in great glee.

Albeit the Hall-Sun was troubled about the carline, both that she had come, and that she had gone: and she determined that the next time she met her she would strive to have of her a true tale of what she was, and of all that was toward.

CHAPTER XIII—THE HALL-SUN SAITH ANOTHER WORD

It was no later than the next night, and a many of what thralls were not with the host were about in the feast-hall with the elders and lads and weaklings of the House; for last night’s tidings had drawn them thither. Gisli had gone back to his kindred and the wain-burg in the Upper-mark, and the women were sitting, most of them, in the Women’s-Chamber, some of them doing what little summer work needed doing about the looms, but more resting from their work in field and acre.

Then came the Hall-Sun forth from her room clad in glittering raiment, and summoned no one, but went straight to her place on the dais under her namesake the Lamp, and stood there a little without speaking. Her face was pale now, her lips a little open, her eyes set and staring as if they saw nothing of all that was round about her.

Now went the word through the Hall and the Women’s-Chamber that the Hall-Sun would speak again, and that great tidings were toward; so all folk came flock-meal to the dais, both thralls and free; and scarce were all gathered there, ere the Hall-Sun began speaking, and said:

“The days of the world thrust onward, and men are born therein
A many and a many, and divers deeds they win
In the fashioning of stories for the kindreds of the earth,
A garland interwoven of sorrow and of mirth.
To the world a warrior cometh; from the world he passeth away,
And no man then may sunder his good from his evil day.
By the Gods hath he been tormented, and been smitten by the foe:
He hath seen his maiden perish, he hath seen his speech-friend go:
His heart hath conceived a joyance and hath brought it unto birth:
But he hath not carried with him his sorrow or his mirth.
He hath lived, and his life hath fashioned the outcome of the deed,
For the blossom of the people, and the coming kindreds’ seed.

“Thus-wise the world is fashioned, and the new sun of the morn
Where earth last night was desert beholds a kindred born,
That to-morrow and to-morrow blossoms all gloriously
With many a man and maiden for the kindreds yet to be,
And fair the Goth-folk groweth. And yet the story saith
That the deeds that make the summer make too the winter’s death,
That summer-tides unceasing from out the grave may grow
And the spring rise up unblemished from the bosom of the snow.

“Thus as to every kindred the day comes once for all
When yesterday it was not, and to-day it builds the hall,
So every kindred bideth the night-tide of the day,
Whereof it knoweth nothing, e’en when noon is past away.
E’en thus the House of the Wolfings ’twixt dusk and dark doth stand,
And narrow is the pathway with the deep on either hand.
On the left are the days forgotten, on the right the days to come,
And another folk and their story in the stead of the Wolfing home.
Do the shadows darken about it, is the even here at last?
Or is this but a storm of the noon-tide that the wind is driving past?

“Unscathed as yet it standeth; it bears the stormy drift,
Nor bows to the lightening flashing adown from the cloudy lift.
I see the hail of battle and the onslaught of the strong,
And they go adown to the folk-mote that shall bide there over long.
I see the slain-heaps rising and the alien folk prevail,
And the Goths give back before them on the ridge o’er the treeless vale.
I see the ancient fallen, and the young man smitten dead,
And yet I see the War-duke shake Throng-plough o’er his head,
And stand unhelmed, unbyrnied before the alien host,
And the hurt men rise around him to win back battle lost;
And the wood yield up her warriors, and the whole host rushing on,
And the swaying lines of battle until the lost is won.
Then forth goes the cry of triumph, as they ring the captives round
And cheat the crow of her portion and heap the warriors’ mound.
There are faces gone from our feast-hall not the least beloved nor worst,
But the wane of the House of the Wolfings not yet the world hath cursed.
The sun shall rise to-morrow on our cold and dewy roof,
For they that longed for slaughter were slaughtered far aloof.”

She ceased for a little, but her countenance, which had not changed during her song, changed not at all now: so they all kept silence although they were rejoicing in this new tale of victory; for they deemed that she was not yet at the end of her speaking. And in good sooth she spake again presently, and said:

“I wot not what hath befallen nor where my soul may be,
For confusion is within me and but dimly do I see,
As if the thing that I look on had happed a while ago.
They stand by the tofts of a war-garth, a captain of the foe,
And a man that is of the Goth-folk, and as friend and friend they speak,
But I hear no word they are saying, though for every word I seek.
And now the mist flows round me and blind I come aback
To the House-roof of the Wolfings and the hearth that hath no lack.”

Her voice grew weaker as she spake the last words, and she sank backward on to her chair: her clenched hands opened, the lids fell down over her bright eyes, her breast heaved no more as it had done, and presently she fell asleep.

The folk were doubtful and somewhat heavy-hearted because of those last words of hers; but they would not ask her more, or rouse her from her sleep, lest they should grieve her; so they departed to their beds and slept for what was yet left of the night.

CHAPTER XIV—THE HALL-SUN IS CAREFUL CONCERNING THE PASSES OF THE WOOD

In the morning early folk arose; and the lads and women who were not of the night-shift got them ready to go to the mead and the acres; for the sunshine had been plenty these last days and the wheat was done blossoming, and all must be got ready for harvest. So they broke their fast, and got their tools into their hands: but they were somewhat heavy-hearted because of those last words of the Hall-Sun, and the doubt of last night still hung about them, and they were scarcely as merry as men are wont to be in the morning.

As for the Hall-Sun, she was afoot with the earliest, and was no less, but mayhap more merry than her wont was, and was blithe with all, both old and young.

But as they were at the point of going she called to them, and said:

“Tarry a little, come ye all to the dais and hearken to me.”

So they all gathered thereto, and she stood in her place and spake.

“Women and elders of the Wolfings, is it so that I spake somewhat of tidings last night?”

“Yea,” said they all.

She said, “And was it a word of victory?”

They answered “yea” again.

“Good is that,” she said; “doubt ye not! there is nought to unsay. But hearken! I am nothing wise in war like Thiodolf or Otter of the Laxings, or as Heriulf the Ancient was, though he was nought so wise as they be. Nevertheless ye shall do well to take me for your captain, while this House is bare of warriors.”

“Yea, yea,” they said, “so will we.”

And an old warrior, hight Sorli, who sat in his chair, no longer quite way-worthy, said:

“Hall-Sun, this we looked for of thee; since thy wisdom is not wholly the wisdom of a spae-wife, but rather is of the children of warriors: and we know thine heart to be high and proud, and that thy death seemeth to thee a small matter beside the life of the Wolfing House.”

Then she smiled and said, “Will ye all do my bidding?”

And they all cried out heartily, “Yea, Hall-Sun, that will we.”

She said: “Hearken then; ye all know that east of Mirkwood-water, when ye come to the tofts of the Bearings, and their Great Roof, the thicket behind them is close, but that there is a wide way cut through it; and often have I gone there: if ye go by that way, in a while ye come to the thicket’s end and to bare places where the rocks crop up through the gravel and the woodland loam. There breed the coneys without number; and wild-cats haunt the place for that sake, and foxes; and the wood-wolf walketh there in summer-tide, and hard by the she-wolf hath her litter of whelps, and all these have enough; and the bald-head erne hangeth over it and the kite, and also the kestril, for shrews and mice abound there. Of these things there is none that feareth me, and none that maketh me afraid. Beyond this place for a long way the wood is nowise thick, for first grow ash-trees about the clefts of the rock and also quicken-trees, but not many of either; and here and there a hazel brake easy to thrust through; then comes a space of oak-trees scattered about the lovely wood-lawn, and then at last the beech-wood close above but clear beneath. This I know well, because I myself have gone so far and further; and by this easy way have I gone so far to the south, that I have come out into the fell country, and seen afar off the snowy mountains beyond the Great Water.

“Now fear ye not, but pluck up a heart! For either I have seen it or dreamed it, or thought it, that by this road easy to wend the Romans should come into the Mark. For shall not those dastards and traitors that wear the raiment and bodies of the Goths over the hearts and the lives of foemen, tell them hereof? And will they not have heard of our Thiodolf, and this my holy namesake?

“Will they not therefore be saying to themselves, ‘Go to now, why should we wrench the hinges off the door with plenteous labour, when another door to the same chamber standeth open before us? This House of the Wolfings is the door to the treasure chamber of the Markmen; let us fall on that at once rather than have many battles for other lesser matters, and then at last have to fight for this also: for having this we have all, and they shall be our thralls, and we may slaughter what we will, and torment what we will and deflower what we will, and make our souls glad with their grief and anguish, and take aback with us to the cities what we will of the thralls, that their anguish and our joy may endure the longer.’ Thus will they say: therefore is it my rede that the strongest and hardiest of you women take horse, a ten of you and one to lead besides, and ride the shallows to the Bearing House, and tell them of our rede; which is to watch diligently the ways of the wood; the outgate to the Mark, and the places where the wood is thin and easy to travel on: and ye shall bid them give you of their folk as many as they deem fittest thereto to join your company, so that ye may have a chain of watchers stretching far into the wilds; but two shall lie without the wood, their horses ready for them to leap on and ride on the spur to the wain-burg in the Upper-mark if any tidings befal.

“Now of these eleven I ordain Hrosshild to be the leader and captain, and to choose for her fellows the stoutest-limbed and heaviest-handed of all the maidens here: art thou content Hrosshild?”

Then stood Hrosshild forth and said nought, but nodded yea; and soon was her choice made amid jests and laughter, for this seemed no hard matter to them.

So the ten got together, and the others fell off from them, and there stood the ten maidens with Hrosshild, well nigh as strong as men, clean-limbed and tall, tanned with sun and wind; for all these were unwearied afield, and oft would lie out a-nights, since they loved the lark’s song better than the mouse’s squeak; but as their kirtles shifted at neck and wrist, you might see their skins as white as privet-flower where they were wont to be covered.

Then said the Hall-Sun: “Ye have heard the word, see ye to it, Hrosshild, and take this other word also: Bid the Bearing stay-at-homes bide not the sword and the torch at home if the Romans come, but hie them over hither, to hold the Hall or live in the wild-wood with us, as need may be; for might bides with many.

“But ye maidens, take this counsel for yourselves; do ye each bear with you a little keen knife, and if ye be taken, and it seem to you that ye may not bear the smart of the Roman torments (for they be wise in tormenting), but will speak and bewray us under them, then thrust this little edge tool into the place of your bodies where the life lieth closest, and so go to the Gods with a good tale in your mouths: so may the Almighty God of Earth speed you, and the fathers of the kindred!”

So she spoke; and they made no delay but each one took what axe or spear or sword she liked best, and two had their bows and quivers of arrows; and so all folk went forth from the Hall.

Soon were the horses saddled and bridled, and the maidens bestrode them joyously and set forth on their way, going down the lanes of the wheat, and rode down speedily toward the shallows of the water, and all cried good speed after them. But the others would turn to their day’s work, and would go about their divers errands. But even as they were at point to sunder, they saw a swift runner passing by those maidens just where the acres joined the meadow, and he waved his hand aloft and shouted to them, but stayed not his running for them, but came up the lanes of the wheat at his swiftest: so they knew at once that this was again a messenger from the host, and they stood together and awaited his coming; and as he drew near they knew him for Egil, the swiftest-footed of the Wolfings; and he gave a great shout as he came among them; and he was dusty and way-worn, but eager; and they received him with all love, and would have brought him to the Hall to wash him and give him meat and drink, and cherish him in all ways.

But he cried out, “To the Speech-Hill first, to the Speech-Hill first! But even before that, one word to thee, Hall-Sun! Saith Thiodolf, Send ye watchers to look to the entrance into Mid-mark, which is by the Bearing dwelling; and if aught untoward befalleth let one ride on the spur with the tidings to the Wain-burg. For by that way also may peril come.”

Then smiled some of the bystanders, and the Hall-Sun said: “Good is it when the thought of a friend stirreth betimes in one’s own breast. The thing is done, Egil; or sawest thou not those ten women, and Hrosshild the eleventh, as thou camest up into the acres?”

Said Egil; “Fair fall thine hand, Hall-Sun! thou art the Wolfings’ Ransom. Wend we now to the Speech-Hill.”

So did they, and every thrall that was about the dwellings, man, woman, and child fared with them, and stood about the Speech-Hill: and the dogs went round about the edge of that assembly, wandering in and out, and sometimes looking hard on some one whom they knew best, if he cried out aloud.

But the men-folk gave all their ears to hearkening, and stood as close as they might.

Then Egil clomb the Speech-Hill, and said.

CHAPTER XV—THEY HEAR TELL OF THE BATTLE ON THE RIDGE

“Ye have heard how the Daylings were appointed to go to help Thiodolf in driving the folk-spear home to the heart of the Roman host. So they went; but six hours thereafter comes one to Otter bidding him send a great part of the kindreds to him; for that he had had tidings that a great host of Romans were drawing near the wood-edge, but were not entered therein, and that fain would he meet them in the open field.

“So the kindreds drew lots, and the lot fell first to the Elkings, who are a great company, as ye know; and then to the Hartings, the Beamings, the Alftings, the Vallings (also a great company), the Galtings, (and they no lesser) each in their turn; and last of all to the Laxings; and the Oselings prayed to go with the Elkings, and this Otter deemed good, whereas a many of them be bowmen.

“All these then to the number of a thousand or more entered the wood; and I was with them, for in sooth I was the messenger.

“No delay made we in the wood, nor went we over warily, trusting to the warding of the wood by Thiodolf; and there were men with us who knew the paths well, whereof I was one; so we speedily came through into the open country.

“Shortly we came upon our folk and the War-duke lying at the foot of a little hill that went up as a buttress to a long ridge high above us, whereon we set a watch; and a little brook came down the dale for our drink.

“Night fell as we came thither; so we slept for a while, but abode not the morning, and we were afoot (for we had no horses with us) before the moon grew white. We took the road in good order, albeit our folk-banners we had left behind in the burg; so each kindred raised aloft a shield of its token to be for a banner. So we went forth, and some swift footmen, with Fox, who hath seen the Roman war-garth, had been sent on before to spy out the ways of the foemen.

“Two hours after sunrise cometh one of these, and telleth how he hath seen the Romans, and how that they are but a short mile hence breaking their fast, not looking for any onslaught; ‘but,’ saith he, ‘they are on a high ridge whence they can see wide about, and be in no danger of ambush, because the place is bare for the most part, nor is there any cover except here and there down in the dales a few hazels and blackthorn bushes, and the rushes of the becks in the marshy bottoms, wherein a snipe may hide, or a hare, but scarce a man; and note that there is no way up to that ridge but by a spur thereof as bare as my hand; so ye will be well seen as ye wend up thereto.’

“So spake he in my hearing. But Thiodolf bade him lead on to that spur, and old Heriulf, who was standing nigh, laughed merrily and said: ‘Yea, lead on, and speedily, lest the day wane and nothing done save the hunting of snipes.’

“So on we went, and coming to the hither side of that spur beheld those others and Fox with them; and he held in his hand an arrow of the aliens, and his face was all astir with half-hidden laughter, and he breathed hard, and pointed to the ridge, and somewhat low down on it we saw a steel cap and three spear-heads showing white from out a little hollow in its side, but the men hidden by the hollow: so we knew that Fox had been chased, and that the Romans were warned and wary.

“No delay made the War-duke, but led us up that spur, which was somewhat steep; and as we rose higher we saw a band of men on the ridge, a little way down it, not a many; archers and slingers mostly, who abode us till we were within shot, and then sent a few shots at us, and so fled. But two men were hurt with the sling-plummets, and one, and he not grievously, with an arrow, and not one slain.

“Thus we came up on to the ridge, so that there was nothing between us and the bare heavens; thence we looked south-east and saw the Romans wisely posted on the ridge not far from where it fell down steeply to the north; but on the south, that is to say on their left hands, and all along the ridge past where we were stayed, the ground sloped gently to the south-west for a good way, before it fell, somewhat steeply, into another long dale. Looking north we saw the outer edge of Mirkwood but a little way from us, and we were glad thereof; because ere we left our sleeping-place that morn Thiodolf had sent to Otter another messenger bidding him send yet more men on to us in case we should be hard-pressed in the battle; for he had had a late rumour that the Romans were many. And now when he had looked on the Roman array and noted how wise it was, he sent three swift-foot ones to take stand on a high knoll which we had passed on the way, that they might take heed where our folk came out from the wood and give signal to them by the horn, and lead them to where the battle should be.

“So we stood awhile and breathed us, and handled our weapons some half a furlong from the alien host. They had no earth rampart around them, for that ridge is waterless, and they could not abide there long, but they had pitched sharp pales in front of them and they stood in very good order, as if abiding an onslaught, and moved not when they saw us; for that band of shooters had joined themselves to them already. Taken one with another we deemed them to be more than we were; but their hauberked footmen with the heavy cast-spears not so many as we by a good deal.

“Now we were of mind to fall on them ere they should fall on us; so all such of us as had shot-weapons spread out from our company and went forth a little; and of the others Heriulf stood foremost along with the leaders of the Beamings and the Elkings; but as yet Thiodolf held aback and led the midmost company, as his wont was, and the more part of the Wolfings were with him.

“Thus we ordered ourselves, and awaited a little while yet what the aliens should do; and presently a war-horn blew amongst them, and from each flank of their mailed footmen came forth a many bowmen and slingers and a band of horsemen; and drew within bowshot, the shooters in open array yet wisely, and so fell to on us, and the horsemen hung aback a little as yet.

“Their arrow-shot was of little avail, their bowmen fell fast before ours; but deadly was their sling-shot, and hurt and slew many and some even in our main battle; for they slung round leaden balls and not stones, and they aimed true and shot quick; and the men withal were so light and lithe, never still, but crouching and creeping and bounding here and there, that they were no easier to hit than coneys amidst of the fern, unless they were very nigh.

“Howbeit when this storm had endured a while, and we moved but little, and not an inch aback, and gave them shot for shot, then was another horn winded from amongst the aliens; and thereat the bowmen cast down their bows, and the slingers wound their slings about their heads, and they all came on with swords and short spears and feathered darts, running and leaping lustily, making for our flanks, and the horsemen set spurs to their horses and fell on in the very front of our folk like good and valiant men-at-arms.

“That saw Heriulf and his men, and they set up the war-whoop, and ran forth to meet them, axe and sword aloft, terribly yet maybe somewhat unwarily. The archers and slingers never came within sword-stroke of them, but fell away before them on all sides; but the slingers fled not far, but began again with their shot, and slew a many. Then was a horn winded, as if to call back the horsemen, who, if they heard, heeded not, but rode hard on our kindred like valiant warriors who feared not death. Sooth to say, neither were the horses big or good, nor the men fit for the work, saving for their hardihood; and their spears were short withal and their bucklers unhandy to wield.

“Now could it be seen how the Goths gave way before them to let them into the trap, and then closed around again, and the axes and edge weapons went awork hewing as in a wood; and Heriulf towered over all the press, and the Wolf’s-sister flashed over his head in the summer morning.

“Soon was that storm over, and we saw the Goths tossing up their spears over the slain, and horses running loose and masterless adown over the westward-lying slopes, and a few with their riders still clinging to them. Yet some, sore hurt by seeming, galloping toward the main battle of the Romans.

“Unwarily then fared the children of Tyr that were with Heriulf; for by this time they were well nigh within shot of the spears of those mighty footmen of the Romans: and on their flanks were the slingers, and the bowmen, who had now gotten their bows again; and our bowmen, though they shot well and strong, were too few to quell them; and indeed some of them had cast by their bows to join in Heriulf’s storm. Also the lie of the ground was against us, for it sloped up toward the Roman array at first very gently, but afterwards steeply enough to breathe a short-winded man. Also behind them were we of the other kindreds, whom Thiodolf had ordered into the wedge-array; and we were all ready to move forward, so that had they abided somewhat, all had been well and better.

“So did they not, but straightway set up the Victory-whoop and ran forward on the Roman host. And these were so ordered that, as aforesaid, they had before them sharp piles stuck into the earth and pointed against us, as we found afterwards to our cost; and within these piles stood the men some way apart from each other, so as to handle their casting spears, and in three ranks were they ordered and many spears could be cast at once, and if any in the front were slain, his fellow behind him took his place.

“So now the storm of war fell at once upon our folk, and swift and fierce as was their onslaught yet were a many slain and hurt or ever they came to the piles aforesaid. Then saw they death before them and heeded it nought, but tore up the piles and dashed through them, and fell in on those valiant footmen. Short is the tale to tell: wheresoever a sword or spear of the Goths was upraised there were three upon him, and saith Toti of the Beamings, who was hurt and crawled away and yet lives, that on Heriulf there were six at first and then more; and he took no thought of shielding himself, but raised up the Wolf’s-sister and hewed as the woodman in the thicket, when night cometh and hunger is on him. There fell Heriulf the Ancient and many a man of the Beamings and the Elkings with him, and many a Roman.

“But amidst the slain and the hurt our wedge-array moved forward slowly now, warily shielded against the plummets and shafts on either side; and when the Romans saw our unbroken array, and Thiodolf the first with Throng-plough naked in his hand, they chased not such men of ours unhurt or little hurt, as drew aback from before them: so these we took amongst us, and when we had gotten all we might, and held a grim face to the foe, we drew aback little by little, still facing them till we were out of shot of their spears, though the shot of the arrows and the sling-plummets ceased not wholly from us. Thus ended Heriulf’s Storm.”

Then he rested from his speaking for a while, and none said aught, but they gazed on him as if he bore with him a picture of the battle, and many of the women wept silently for Heriulf, and yet more of the younger ones were wounded to the heart when they thought of the young men of the Elkings, and the Beamings, since with both those houses they had affinity; and they lamented the loves that they had lost, and would have asked concerning their own speech-friends had they durst. But they held their peace till the tale was told out to an end.

Then Egil spake again:

“No long while had worn by in Heriulf’s Storm, and though men’s hearts were nothing daunted, but rather angered by what had befallen, yet would Thiodolf wear away the time somewhat more, since he hoped for succour from the Wain-burg and the Wood; and he would not that any of these Romans should escape us, but would give them all to Tyr, and to be a following to Heriulf the Old and the Great.

“So there we abided a while moving nought, and Thiodolf stood with Throng-plough on his shoulder, unhelmed, unbyrnied, as though he trusted to the kindred for all defence. Nor for their part did the Romans dare to leave their vantage-ground, when they beheld what grim countenance we made them.

“Albeit, when we had thrice made as if we would fall on, and yet they moved not, whereas it trieth a man sorely to stand long before the foeman, and do nought but endure, and whereas many of our bowmen were slain or hurt, and the rest too few to make head against the shot-weapons of the aliens, then at last we began to draw nearer and a little nearer, not breaking the wedge-array; and at last, just before we were within shot of the cast-spears of their main battle, loud roared our war-horn: then indeed we broke the wedge-array, but orderly as we knew how, spreading out from right and left of the War-duke till we were facing them in a long line: one minute we abode thus, and then ran forth through the spear-storm: and even therewith we heard, as it were, the echo of our own horn, and whoso had time to think betwixt the first of the storm and the handstrokes of the Romans deemed that now would be coming fresh kindreds for our helping.

“Not long endured the spear-rain, so swift we were, neither were we in one throng as betid in Heriulf’s Storm, but spread abroad, each trusting in the other that none thought of the backward way.

“Though we had the ground against us we dashed like fresh men at their pales, and were under the weapons at once. Then was the battle grim; they could not thrust us back, nor did we break their array with our first storm; man hewed at man as if there were no foes in the world but they two: sword met sword, and sax met sax; it was thrusting and hewing with point and edge, and no long-shafted weapons were of any avail; there we fought hand to hand and no man knew by eyesight how the battle went two yards from where he fought, and each one put all his heart in the stroke he was then striking, and thought of nothing else.

“Yet at the last we felt that they were faltering and that our work was easier and our hope higher; then we cried our cries and pressed on harder, and in that very nick of time there arose close behind us the roar of the Markmen’s horn and the cries of the kindreds answering ours. Then such of the Romans as were not in the very act of smiting, or thrusting, or clinging or shielding, turned and fled, and the whoop of victory rang around us, and the earth shook, and past the place of the slaughter rushed the riders of the Goths; for they had sent horsemen to us, and the paths were grown easier for our much treading of them. Then I beheld Thiodolf, that he had just slain a foe, and clear was the space around him, and he rushed sideways and caught hold of the stirrup of Angantyr of the Bearings, and ran ten strides beside him, and then bounded on afoot swifter than the red horses of the Bearings, urging on the chase, as his wont was.

“But we who were wearier, when we had done our work, stood still between the living and the dead, between the freemen of the Mark and their war-thralls. And in no long while there came back to us Thiodolf and the chasers, and we made a great ring on the field of the slain, and sang the Song of Triumph; and it was the Wolfing Song that we sang.

“Thus then ended Thiodolf’s Storm.”

When he held his peace there was but little noise among the stay-at-homes, for still were they thinking about the deaths of their kindred and their lovers. But Egil spoke again.

“Yet within that ring lay the sorrow of our hearts; for Odin had called a many home, and there lay their bodies; and the mightiest was Heriulf; and the Romans had taken him up from where he fell, and cast him down out of the way, but they had not stripped him, and his hand still gripped the Wolf’s-sister. His shield was full of shafts of arrows and spears; his byrny was rent in many places, his helm battered out of form. He had been grievously hurt in the side and in the thigh by cast-spears or ever he came to hand-blows with the Romans, but moreover he had three great wounds from the point of the sax, in the throat, in the side, in the belly, each enough for his bane. His face was yet fair to look on, and we deemed that he had died smiling.

“At his feet lay a young man of the Beamings in a gay green coat, and beside him was the head of another of his House, but his green-clad body lay some yards aloof. There lay of the Elkings a many. Well may ye weep, maidens, for them that loved you. Now fare they to the Gods a goodly company, but a goodly company is with them.

“Seventy and seven of the Sons of the Goths lay dead within the Roman battle, and fifty-four on the slope before it; and to boot there were twenty-four of us slain by the arrows and plummets of the shooters, and a many hurt withal.

“But there were no hurt men inside the Roman array or before it. All were slain outright, for the hurt men either dragged themselves back to our folk, or onward to the Roman ranks, that they might die with one more stroke smitten.

“Now of the aliens the dead lay in heaps in that place, for grim was the slaughter when the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings fell on the aliens; and a many of the foemen scorned to flee, but died where they stood, craving no peace; and to few of them was peace given. There fell of the Roman footmen five hundred and eighty and five, and the remnant that fled was but little: but of the slingers and bowmen but eighty and six were slain, for they were there to shoot and not to stand; and they were nimble and fleet of foot, men round of limb, very dark-skinned, but not foul of favour.”

Then he said:

“There are men through the dusk a-faring, our speech-fiends and our kin,
No more shall they crave our helping, nor ask what work to win;
They have done their deeds and departed when they had holpen the House,
So high their heads are holden, and their hurts are glorious
With the story of strokes stricken, and new weapons to be met,
And new scowling of foes’ faces, and new curses unknown yet.
Lo, they dight the feast in Godhome, and fair are the tables spread,
Late come, but well-belovéd is every war-worn head,
And the God-folk and the Fathers, as these cross the tinkling bridge,
Crowd round and crave for stories of the Battle on the Ridge.”

Therewith he came down from the Speech-Hill and the women-folk came round about him, and they brought him to the Hall, and washed him, and gave him meat and drink; and then would he sleep, for he was weary.

Howbeit some of the women could not refrain themselves, but must needs ask after their speech-friends who had been in the battle; and he answered as he could, and some he made glad, and some sorry; and as to some, he could not tell them whether their friends were alive or dead. So he went to his place and fell asleep and slept long, while the women went down to acre and meadow, or saw to the baking of bread or the sewing of garments, or went far afield to tend the neat and the sheep.

Howbeit the Hall-Sun went not with them; but she talked with that old warrior, Sorli, who was now halt and grown unmeet for the road, but was a wise man; and she and he together with some old carlines and a few young lads fell to work, and saw to many matters about the Hall and the garth that day; and they got together what weapons there were both for shot and for the handplay, and laid them where they were handy to come at, and they saw to the meal in the hall that there was provision for many days; and they carried up to a loft above the Women’s-Chamber many great vessels of water, lest the fire should take the Hall; and they looked everywhere to the entrances and windows and had fastenings and bolts and bars fashioned and fitted to them; and saw that all things were trim and stout. And so they abided the issue.

CHAPTER XVI—HOW THE DWARF-WROUGHT HAUBERK WAS BROUGHT AWAY FROM THE HALL OF THE DAYLINGS

Now it must be told that early in the morning, after the night when Gisli had brought to the Wolfing Stead the tidings of the Battle in the Wood, a man came riding from the south to the Dayling abode. It was just before sunrise, and but few folk were stirring about the dwellings. He rode up to the Hall and got off his black horse, and tied it to a ring in the wall by the Man’s-door, and went in clashing, for he was in his battle-gear, and had a great wide-rimmed helm on his head.

Folk were but just astir in the Hall, and there came an old woman to him, and looked on him and saw by his attire that he was a man of the Goths and of the Wolfing kindred; so she greeted him kindly: but he said:

“Mother, I am come hither on an errand, and time presses.”

Said she: “Yea, my son, or what tidings bearest thou from the south? for by seeming thou art new-come from the host.”

Said he: “The tidings are as yesterday, save that Thiodolf will lead the host through the wild-wood to look for the Romans beyond it: therefore will there soon be battle again. See ye, Mother, hast thou here one that knoweth this ring of Thiodolf’s, if perchance men doubt me when I say that I am sent on my errand by him?”

“Yea,” she said, “Agni will know it; since he knoweth all the chief men of the Mark; but what is thine errand, and what is thy name?”

“It is soon told,” said he, “I am a Wolfing hight Thorkettle, and I come to have away for Thiodolf the treasure of the world, the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk, which he left with you when we fared hence to the south three days ago. Now let Agni come, that I may have it, for time presses sorely.”

There were three or four gathered about them now, and a maiden of them said: “Shall I bring Agni hither, mother?”

“What needeth it?” said the carline, “he sleepeth, and shall be hard to awaken; and he is old, so let him sleep. I shall go fetch the hauberk, for I know where it is, and my hand may come on it as easily as on mine own girdle.”

So she went her ways to the treasury where were the precious things of the kindred; the woven cloths were put away in fair coffers to keep them clean from the whirl of the Hall-dust and the reek; and the vessels of gold and some of silver were standing on the shelves of a cupboard before which hung a veil of needlework: but the weapons and war-gear hung upon pins along the wall, and many of them had much fair work on them, and were dight with gold and gems: but amidst them all was the wondrous hauberk clear to see, dark grey and thin, for it was so wondrously wrought that it hung in small compass. So the carline took it down from the pin, and handled it, and marvelled at it, and said:

“Strange are the hands that have passed over thee, sword-rampart, and in strange places of the earth have they dwelt! For no smith of the kindreds hath fashioned thee, unless he had for his friend either a God or a foe of the Gods. Well shalt thou wot of the tale of sword and spear ere thou comest back hither! For Thiodolf shall bring thee where the work is wild.”

Then she went with the hauberk to the new-come warrior, and made no delay, but gave it to him, and said:

“When Agni awaketh, I shall tell him that Thorkettle of the Wolfings hath borne aback to Thiodolf the Treasure of the World, the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk.”

Then Thorkettle took it and turned to go; but even therewith came old Asmund from out of his sleeping-place, and gazed around the Hall, and his eyes fell on the shape of the Wolfing as he was going out of the door, and he asked the carline.

“What doeth he here? What tidings is there from the host? For my soul was nought unquiet last night.”

“It is a little matter,” she said; “the War-duke hath sent for the wondrous Byrny that he left in our treasury when he departed to meet the Romans. Belike there shall be a perilous battle, and few hearts need a stout sword-wall more than Thiodolf’s.”

As she spoke, Thorkettle had passed the door, and got into his saddle, and sat his black horse like a mighty man as he slowly rode down the turf bridge that led into the plain. And Asmund went to the door and stood watching him till he set spurs to his horse, and departed a great gallop to the south. Then said Asmund:

“What then are the Gods devising, what wonders do they will?
What mighty need is on them to work the kindreds ill,
That the seed of the Ancient Fathers and a woman of their kin
With her all unfading beauty must blend herself therein?
Are they fearing lest the kindreds should grow too fair and great,
And climb the stairs of God-home, and fashion all their fate,
And make all earth so merry that it never wax the worse,
Nor need a gift from any, nor prayers to quench the curse?
Fear they that the Folk-wolf, growing as the fire from out the spark
Into a very folk-god, shall lead the weaponed Mark
From wood to field and mountain, to stand between the earth
And the wrights that forge its thraldom and the sword to slay its mirth?
Fear they that the sons of the wild-wood the Loathly Folk shall quell,
And grow into Gods thereafter, and aloof in God-home dwell?”

Therewith he turned back into the Hall, and was heavy-hearted and dreary of aspect; for he was somewhat foreseeing; and it may not be hidden that this seeming Thorkettle was no warrior of the Wolfings, but the Wood-Sun in his likeness; for she had the power and craft of shape-changing.

CHAPTER XVII—THE WOOD-SUN SPEAKETH WITH THIODOLF

Now the Markmen laid Heriulf in howe on the ridge-crest where he had fallen, and heaped a mighty howe over him that could be seen from far, and round about him they laid the other warriors of the kindreds. For they deemed it was fittest that they should lie on the place whose story they had fashioned. But they cast earth on the foemen lower down on the westward-lying bents.

The sun set amidst their work, and night came on; and Thiodolf was weary and would fain rest him and sleep: but he had many thoughts, and pondered whitherward he should lead the folk, so as to smite the Romans once again, and he had a mind to go apart and be alone for rest and slumber; so he spoke to a man of the kindred named Solvi in whom he put all trust, and then he went down from the ridge, and into a little dale on the southwest side thereof, a furlong from the place of the battle. A beck ran down that dale, and the further end of it was closed by a little wood of yew trees, low, but growing thick together, and great grey stones were scattered up and down on the short grass of the dale. Thiodolf went down to the brook-side, and to a place where it trickled into a pool, whence it ran again in a thin thread down the dale, turning aside before it reached the yew-wood to run its ways under low ledges of rock into a wider dale. He looked at the pool and smiled to himself as if he had thought of something that pleased him; then he drew a broad knife from his side, and fell to cutting up turfs till he had what he wanted; and then he brought stones to the place, and built a dam across the mouth of the pool, and sat by on a great stone to watch it filling.

As he sat he strove to think about the Roman host and how he should deal with it; but despite himself his thoughts wandered, and made for him pictures of his life that should be when this time of battle was over; so that he saw nothing of the troubles that were upon his hands that night, but rather he saw himself partaking in the deeds of the life of man. There he was between the plough-stilts in the acres of the kindred when the west wind was blowing over the promise of early spring; or smiting down the ripe wheat in the hot afternoon amidst the laughter and merry talk of man and maid; or far away over Mirkwood-water watching the edges of the wood against the prowling wolf and lynx, the stars just beginning to shine over his head, as now they were; or wending the windless woods in the first frosts before the snow came, the hunter’s bow or javelin in hand: or coming back from the wood with the quarry on the sledge across the snow, when winter was deep, through the biting icy wind and the whirl of the drifting snow, to the lights and music of the Great Roof, and the merry talk therein and the smiling of the faces glad to see the hunting-carles come back; and the full draughts of mead, and the sweet rest a night-tide when the north wind was moaning round the ancient home.

All seemed good and fair to him, and whiles he looked around him, and saw the long dale lying on his left hand and the dark yews in its jaws pressing up against the rock-ledges of the brook, and on his right its windings as the ground rose up to the buttresses of the great ridge. The moon was rising over it, and he heard the voice of the brook as it tinkled over the stones above him; and the whistle of the plover and the laugh of the whimbrel came down the dale sharp and clear in the calm evening; and sounding far away, because the great hill muffled them, were the voices of his fellows on the ridge, and the songs of the warriors and the high-pitched cries of the watch. And this also was a part of the sweet life which was, and was to be; and he smiled and was happy and loved the days that were coming, and longed for them, as the young man longs for the feet of his maiden at the trysting-place.

So as he sat there, the dreams wrapping him up from troublous thoughts, at last slumber overtook him, and the great warrior of the Wolfings sat nodding like an old carle in the chimney ingle, and he fell asleep, his dreams going with him, but all changed and turned to folly and emptiness.

He woke with a start in no long time; the night was deep, the wind had fallen utterly, and all sounds were stilled save the voice of the brook, and now and again the cry of the watchers of the Goths. The moon was high and bright, and the little pool beside him glittered with it in all its ripples; for it was full now and trickling over the lip of his dam. So he arose from the stone and did off his war-gear, casting Throng-plough down into the grass beside him, for he had been minded to bathe him, but the slumber was still on him, and he stood musing while the stream grew stronger and pushed off first one of his turfs and then another, and rolled two or three of the stones over, and then softly thrust all away and ran with a gush down the dale, filling all the little bights by the way for a minute or two; he laughed softly thereat, and stayed the undoing of his kirtle, and so laid himself down on the grass beside the stone looking down the dale, and fell at once into a dreamless sleep.

When he awoke again, it was yet night, but the moon was getting lower and the first beginnings of dawn were showing in the sky over the ridge; he lay still a moment gathering his thoughts and striving to remember where he was, as is the wont of men waking from deep sleep; then he leapt to his feet, and lo, he was face to face with a woman, and she who but the Wood-Sun? and he wondered not, but reached out his hand to touch her, though he had not yet wholly cast off the heaviness of slumber or remembered the tidings of yesterday.

She drew aback a little from him, and his eyes cleared of the slumber, and he saw her that she was scantily clad in black raiment, barefoot, with no gold ring on her arms or necklace on her neck, or crown about her head. But she looked so fair and lovely even in that end of the night-tide, that he remembered all her beauty of the day and the sunshine, and he laughed aloud for joy of the sight of her, and said:

“What aileth thee, O Wood-Sun, and is this a new custom of thy kindred and the folk of God-home that their brides array themselves like thralls new-taken, and as women who have lost their kindred and are outcast? Who then hath won the Burg of the Anses, and clomb the rampart of God-home?”

But she spoke from where she stood in a voice so sweet, that it thrilled to the very marrow of his bones.

“I have dwelt a while with sorrow since we met, we twain, in the wood:
I have mourned, while thou hast been merry, who deemest the war-play good.
For I know the heart of the wilful and how thou wouldst cast away
The rampart of thy life-days, and the wall of my happy day.
Yea I am the thrall of Sorrow; she hath stripped my raiment off
And laid sore stripes upon me with many a bitter scoff.
Still bidding me remember that I come of the God-folk’s kin,
And yet for all my godhead no love of thee may win.”

Then she looked longingly at him a while and at last could no longer refrain her, but drew nigh him and took his hands in hers, and kissed his mouth, and said as she caressed him:

“O where are thy wounds, beloved? how turned the spear from thy breast,
When the storm of war blew strongest, and the best men met the best?
Lo, this is the tale of to-day: but what shall to-morrow tell?
That Thiodolf the Mighty in the fight’s beginning fell;
That there came a stroke ill-stricken, there came an aimless thrust,
And the life of the people’s helper lay quenched in the summer dust.”

He answered nothing, but smiled as though the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand were pleasant to him, for so much love there was in her, that her very grief was scarcely grievous. But she said again:

“Thou sayest it: I am outcast; for a God that lacketh mirth
Hath no more place in God-home and never a place on earth.
A man grieves, and he gladdens, or he dies and his grief is gone;
But what of the grief of the Gods, and the sorrow never undone?
Yea verily I am the outcast. When first in thine arms I lay
On the blossoms of the woodland my godhead passed away;
Thenceforth unto thee was I looking for the light and the glory of life
And the Gods’ doors shut behind me till the day of the uttermost strife.
And now thou hast taken my soul, thou wilt cast it into the night,
And cover thine head with the darkness, and turn thine eyes from the light.
Thou wouldst go to the empty country where never a seed is sown
And never a deed is fashioned, and the place where each is alone;
But I thy thrall shall follow, I shall come where thou seemest to lie,
I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, and thou so dear and nigh!
A few bones white in their war-gear that have no help or thought,
Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, so nigh, so dear—and nought.”

His hands strayed over her shoulders and arms, caressing them, and he said softly and lovingly:

“I am Thiodolf the Mighty: but as wise as I may be
No story of that grave-night mine eyes can ever see,
But rather the tale of the Wolfings through the coming days of earth,
And the young men in their triumph and the maidens in their mirth;
And morn’s promise every evening, and each day the promised morn,
And I amidst it ever reborn and yet reborn.
This tale I know, who have seen it, who have felt the joy and pain,
Each fleeing, each pursuing, like the links of the draw-well’s chain:
But that deedless tide of the grave-mound, and the dayless nightless day,
E’en as I strive to see it, its image wanes away.
What say’st thou of the grave-mound? shall I be there at all
When they lift the Horn of Remembrance, and the shout goes down the hall,
And they drink the Mighty War-duke and Thiodolf the old?
Nay rather; there where the youngling that longeth to be bold
Sits gazing through the hall-reek and sees across the board
A vision of the reaping of the harvest of the sword,
There shall Thiodolf be sitting; e’en there shall the youngling be
That once in the ring of the hazels gave up his life to thee.”

She laughed as he ended, and her voice was sweet, but bitter was her laugh. Then she said:

“Nay thou shalt be dead, O warrior, thou shalt not see the Hall
Nor the children of thy people ’twixt the dais and the wall.
And I, and I shall be living; still on thee shall waste my thought:
I shall long and lack thy longing; I shall pine for what is nought.”

But he smiled again, and said:

“Not on earth shall I learn this wisdom; and how shall I learn it then
When I lie alone in the grave-mound, and have no speech with men?
But for thee,—O doubt it nothing that my life shall live in thee,
And so shall we twain be loving in the days that yet shall be.”

It was as if she heard him not; and she fell aback from him a little and stood silently for a while as one in deep thought; and then turned and went a few paces from him, and stooped down and came back again with something in her arms (and it was the hauberk once more), and said suddenly:

“O Thiodolf, now tell me for what cause thou wouldst not bear
This grey wall of the hammer in the tempest of the spear?
Didst thou doubt my faith, O Folk-wolf, or the counsel of the Gods,
That thou needs must cast thee naked midst the flashing battle-rods,
Or is thy pride so mighty that it seemed to thee indeed
That death was a better guerdon than the love of the Godhead’s seed?”

But Thiodolf said: “O Wood-Sun, this thou hast a right to ask of me, why I have not worn in the battle thy gift, the Treasure of the World, the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk! And what is this that thou sayest? I doubt not thy faith towards me and thine abundant love: and as for the rede of the Gods, I know it not, nor may I know it, nor turn it this way nor that: and as for thy love and that I would choose death sooner, I know not what thou meanest; I will not say that I love thy love better than life itself; for these two, my life and my love, are blended together and may not be sundered.

“Hearken therefore as to the Hauberk: I wot well that it is for no light matter that thou wouldst have me bear thy gift, the wondrous hauberk, into battle; I deem that some doom is wrapped up in it; maybe that I shall fall before the foe if I wear it not; and that if I wear it, somewhat may betide me which is unmeet to betide a warrior of the Wolfings. Therefore will I tell thee why I have fought in two battles with the Romans with unmailed body, and why I left the hauberk, (which I see that thou bearest in thine arms) in the Roof of the Daylings. For when I entered therein, clad in the hauberk, there came to meet me an ancient man, one of the very valiant of days past, and he looked on me with the eyes of love, as though he had been the very father of our folk, and I the man that was to come after him to carry on the life thereof. But when he saw the hauberk and touched it, then was his love smitten cold with sadness and he spoke words of evil omen; so that putting this together with thy words about the gift, and that thou didst in a manner compel me to wear it, I could not but deem that this mail is for the ransom of a man and the ruin of a folk.

“Wilt thou say that it is not so? then will I wear the hauberk, and live and die happy. But if thou sayest that I have deemed aright, and that a curse goeth with the hauberk, then either for the sake of the folk I will not wear the gift and the curse, and I shall die in great glory, and because of me the House shall live; or else for thy sake I shall bear it and live, and the House shall live or die as may be, but I not helping, nay I no longer of the House nor in it. How sayest thou?”

Then she said:

“Hail be thy mouth, beloved, for that last word of thine,
And the hope that thine heart conceiveth and the hope that is born in mine.
Yea, for a man’s delivrance was the hauberk born indeed
That once more the mighty warrior might help the folk at need.
And where is the curse’s dwelling if thy life be saved to dwell
Amidst the Wolfing warriors and the folk that loves thee well
And the house where the high Gods left thee to be cherished well therein?

“Yea more: I have told thee, beloved, that thou art not of the kin;
The blood in thy body is blended of the wandering Elking race,
And one that I may not tell of, who in God-home hath his place,
And who changed his shape to beget thee in the wild-wood’s leafy roof.
How then shall the doom of the Wolfings be woven in the woof
Which the Norns for thee have shuttled? or shall one man of war
Cast down the tree of the Wolfings on the roots that spread so far?
O friend, thou art wise and mighty, but other men have lived
Beneath the Wolfing roof-tree whereby the folk has thrived.”

He reddened at her word; but his eyes looked eagerly on her. She cast down the hauberk, and drew one step nigher to him. She knitted her brows, her face waxed terrible, and her stature seemed to grow greater, as she lifted up her gleaming right arm, and cried out in a great voice.

“Thou Thiodolf the Mighty! Hadst thou will to cast the net
And tangle the House in thy trouble, it is I would slay thee yet;
For ’tis I and I that love them, and my sorrow would I give,
And thy life, thou God of battle, that the Wolfing House might live.”

Therewith she rushed forward, and cast herself upon him, and threw her arms about him, and strained him to her bosom, and kissed his face, and he her in likewise, for there was none to behold them, and nought but the naked heaven was the roof above their heads.

And now it was as if the touch of her face and her body, and the murmuring of her voice changed and soft close to his ear, as she murmured mere words of love to him, drew him away from the life of deeds and doubts and made a new world for him, wherein he beheld all those fair pictures of the happy days that had been in his musings when first he left the field of the dead.

So they sat down on the grey stone together hand in hand, her head laid upon his shoulder, no otherwise than if they had been two lovers, young and without renown in days of deep peace.

So as they sat, her foot smote on the cold hilts of the sword, which Thiodolf had laid down in the grass; and she stooped and took it up, and laid it across her knees and his as they sat there; and she looked on Throng-plough as he lay still in the sheath, and smiled on him, and saw that the peace-strings were not yet wound about his hilts. So she drew him forth and raised him up in her hand, and he gleamed white and fearful in the growing dawn, for all things had now gotten their colours again, whereas amidst their talking had the night worn, and the moon low down was grown white and pale.

But she leaned aside, and laid her cheek against Thiodolf’s, and he took the sword out of her hand and set it on his knees again, and laid his right hand on it, and said:

“Two things by these blue edges in the face of the dawning I swear;
And first this warrior’s ransom in the coming fight to bear,
And evermore to love thee who hast given me second birth.
And by the sword I swear it, and by the Holy Earth,
To live for the House of the Wolfings, and at last to die for their need.
For though I trow thy saying that I am not one of their seed,
Nor yet by the hand have been taken and unto the Father shown
As a very son of the Fathers, yet mid them hath my body grown;
And I am the guest of their Folk-Hall, and each one there is my friend.
So with them is my joy and sorrow, and my life, and my death in the end.
Now whatso doom hereafter my coming days shall bide,
Thou speech-friend, thou deliverer, thine is this dawning-tide.”

She spoke no word to him; but they rose up and went hand in hand down the dale, he still bearing his naked sword over his shoulder, and thus they went together into the yew-copse at the dale’s end. There they abode till after the rising of the sun, and each to each spake many loving words at their departure; and the Wood-Sun went her ways at her will.

But Thiodolf went up the dale again, and set Throng-plough in his sheath, and wound the peace-strings round him. Then he took up the hauberk from the grass whereas the Wood-Sun had cast it, and did it on him, as it were of the attire he was wont to carry daily. So he girt Throng-plough to him, and went soberly up to the ridge-top to the folk, who were just stirring in the early morning.

CHAPTER XVIII—TIDINGS BROUGHT TO THE WAIN-BURG

Now it must be told of Otter and they of the Wain-burg how they had the tidings of the overthrow of the Romans on the Ridge, and that Egil had left them on his way to Wolf-stead. They were joyful of the tale, as was like to be, but eager also to strike their stroke at the foemen, and in that mood they abode fresh tidings.

It has been told how Otter had sent the Bearings and the Wormings to the aid of Thiodolf and his folk, and these two were great kindreds, and they being gone, there abode with Otter, one man with another, thralls and freemen, scant three thousand men: of these many were bowmen good to fight from behind a wall or fence, or some such cover, but scarce meet to withstand a shock in the open field. However it was deemed at this time in the Wain-burg that Thiodolf and his men would soon return to them; and in any case, they said, he lay between the Romans and the Mark, so that they had but little doubt; or rather they feared that the Romans might draw aback from the Mark before they could be met in battle again, for as aforesaid they were eager for the fray.

Now it was in the cool of the evening two days after the Battle on the Ridge, that the men, both freemen and thralls, had been disporting themselves in the plain ground without the Burg in casting the spear and putting the stone, and running races a-foot and a-horseback, and now close on sunset three young men, two of the Laxings and one of the Shieldings, and a grey old thrall of that same House, were shooting a match with the bow, driving their shafts at a rushen roundel hung on a pole which the old thrall had dight. Men were peaceful and happy, for the time was fair and calm, and, as aforesaid, they dreaded not the Roman Host any more than if they were Gods dwelling in God-home. The shooters were deft men, and they of the Burg were curious to note their deftness, and many were breathed with the games wherein they had striven, and thought it good to rest, and look on the new sport: so they sat and stood on the grass about the shooters on three sides, and the mead-horn went briskly from man to man; for there was no lack of meat and drink in the Burg, whereas the kindreds that lay nighest to it had brought in abundant provision, and women of the kindreds had come to them, and not a few were there scattered up and down among the carles.

Now the Shielding man, Geirbald by name, had just loosed at the mark, and had shot straight and smitten the roundel in the midst, and a shout went up from the onlookers thereat; but that shout was, as it were, lined with another, and a cry that a messenger was riding toward the Burg: thereat most men looked round toward the wood, because their minds were set on fresh tidings from Thiodolf’s company, but as it happened it was from the north and the side toward Mid-mark that they on the outside of the throng had seen the rider coming; and presently the word went from man to man that so it was, and that the new comer was a young man on a grey horse, and would speedily be amongst them; so they wondered what the tidings might be, but yet they did not break up the throng, but abode in their places that they might receive the messenger more orderly; and as the rider drew near, those who were nighest to him perceived that it was a woman.

So men made way before the grey horse, and its rider, and the horse was much spent and travel-worn. So the woman rode right into the ring of warriors, and drew rein there, and lighted down slowly and painfully, and when she was on the ground could scarce stand for stiffness; and two or three of the swains drew near her to help her, and knew her at once for Hrosshild of the Wolfings, for she was well-known as a doughty woman.

Then she said: “Bring me to Otter the War-duke; or bring him hither to me, which were best, since so many men are gathered together; and meanwhile give me to drink; for I am thirsty and weary.”

So while one went for Otter, another reached to her the mead-horn, and she had scarce done her draught, ere Otter was there, for they had found him at the gate of the Burg. He had many a time been in the Wolfing Hall, so he knew her at once and said:

“Hail, Hrosshild! how farest thou?”

She said: “I fare as the bearer of evil tidings. Bid thy folk do on their war-gear and saddle their horses, and make no delay; for now presently shall the Roman host be in Mid-mark!”

Then cried Otter: “Blow up the war-horn! get ye all to your weapons and be ready to leap on your horses, and come ye to the Thing in good order kindred by kindred: later on ye shall hear Hrosshild’s story as she shall tell it to me!”

Therewith he led her to a grassy knoll that was hard by, and set her down thereon and himself beside her, and said:

“Speak now, damsel, and fear not! For now shall one fate go over us all, either to live together or die together as the free children of Tyr, and friends of the Almighty God of the Earth. How camest thou to meet the Romans and know of their ways and to live thereafter?”

She said: “Thus it was: the Hall-Sun bethought her how that the eastern ways into Mid-mark that bring a man to the thicket behind the Roof of the Bearings are nowise hard, even for an host; so she sent ten women, and me the eleventh to the Bearing dwelling and the road through the thicket aforesaid; and we were to take of the Bearing stay-at-homes whomso we would that were handy, and then all we to watch the ways for fear of the Romans. And methinks she has had some vision of their ways, though mayhap not altogether clear.

“Anyhow we came to the Bearing dwellings, and they gave us of their folk eight doughty women and two light-foot lads, and so we were twenty and one in all.

“So then we did as the Hall-Sun bade us, and ordained a chain of watchers far up into the waste; and these were to sound a point of war upon their horns each to each till the sound thereof should come to us who lay with our horses hoppled ready beside us in the fair plain of the Mark outside the thicket.

“To be short, the horns waked us up in the midst of yesternight, and of the watches also came to us the last, which had heard the sound amidst the thicket, and said that it was certainly the sound of the Goths’ horn, and the note agreed on. Therefore I sent a messenger at once to the Wolfing Roof to say what was toward; but to thee I would not ride until I had made surer of the tidings; so I waited awhile, and then rode into the wild-wood; and a long tale I might make both of the waiting and the riding, had I time thereto; but this is the end of it; that going warily a little past where the thicket thinneth and the road endeth, I came on three of those watches or links in the chain we had made, and half of another watch or link; that is to say six women, who were come together after having blown their horns and fled (though they should rather have abided in some lurking-place to espy whatever might come that way) and one other woman, who had been one of the watch much further off, and had spoken with the furthest of all, which one had seen the faring of the Roman Host, and that it was very great, and no mere band of pillagers or of scouts. And, said this fleer (who was indeed half wild with fear), that while they were talking together, came the Romans upon them, and saw them; and a band of Romans beat the wood for them when they fled, and she, the fleer, was at point to be taken, and saw two taken indeed, and haled off by the Roman scourers of the wood. But she escaped and so came to the others on the skirts of the thicket, having left of her skin and blood on many a thornbush and rock by the way.

“Now when I heard this, I bade this fleer get her home to the Bearings as swiftly as she might, and tell her tale; and she went away trembling, and scarce knowing whether her feet were on earth or on water or on fire; but belike failed not to come there, as no Romans were before her.

“But for the others, I sent one to go straight to Wolf-stead on the heels of the first messenger, to tell the Hall-Sun what had befallen, and other five I set to lurk in the thicket, whereas none could lightly lay hands on them, and when they had new tidings, to flee to Wolf-stead as occasion might serve them; and for myself I tarried not, but rode on the spur to tell thee hereof.

“But my last word to thee, Otter, is that by the Hall-sun’s bidding the Bearings will not abide fire and steel at their own stead, but when they hear true tidings of the Romans being hard at hand, will take with them all that is not too hot or too heavy to carry, and go their ways unto Wolf-stead: and the tidings will go up and down the Mark on both sides of the water, so that whatever is of avail for defence will gather there at our dwelling, and if we fall, goodly shall be the howe heaped over us, even if ye come not in time.

“Now have I told thee what I needs must and there is no need to question me more, for thou hast it all—do thou what thou hast to do!”

With that word she cast herself down on the grass by the mound-side, and was presently asleep, for she was very weary.

But all the time she had been telling her tale had the horn been sounding, and there were now a many warriors gathered and more coming in every moment: so Otter stood up on the mound after he had bidden a man of his House to bring him his horse and war-gear, and abided a little, till, as might be said, the whole host was gathered: then he bade cry silence, and spake:

“Sons of Tyr, now hath an Host of the Romans gotten into the Mark; a mighty host, but not so mighty that it may not be met. Few words are best: let the Steerings, who are not many, but are men well-tried in war and wisdom abide in the Burg along with the fighting thralls: but let the Burg be broken up and moved from the place, and let its warders wend towards Mid-mark, but warily and without haste, and each night let them make the wain-garth and keep good watch.

“But know ye that the Romans shall fall with all their power on the Wolfing dwellings, deeming that when they have that, they shall have all that is ours with ourselves also. For there is the Hall-Sun under the Great Roof, and there hath Thiodolf, our War-duke, his dwelling-place; therefore shall all of us, save those that abide with the wains, take horse, and ride without delay, and cross the water at Battleford, so that we may fall upon the foe before they come west of the water; for as ye know there is but one ford whereby a man wending straight from the Bearings may cross Mirkwood-water, and it is like that the foe will tarry at the Bearing stead long enough to burn and pillage it.

“So do ye order yourselves according to your kindreds, and let the Shieldings lead. Make no more delay! But for me I will now send a messenger to Thiodolf to tell him of the tidings, and then speedily shall he be with us. Geirbald, I see thee; come hither!”

Now Geirbald stood amidst the Shieldings, and when Otter had spoken, he came forth bestriding a white horse, and with his bow slung at his back. Said Otter: “Geirbald, thou shalt ride at once through the wood, and find Thiodolf; and tell him the tidings, and that in nowise he follow the Roman fleers away from the Mark, nor to heed anything but the trail of the foemen through the south-eastern heaths of Mirkwood, whether other Romans follow him or not: whatever happens let him lead the Goths by that road, which for him is the shortest, towards the defence of the Wolfing dwellings. Lo thou, my ring for a token! Take it and depart in haste. Yet first take thy fellow Viglund the Woodman with thee, lest if perchance one fall, the other may bear the message. Tarry not, nor rest till thy word be said!”

Then turned Geirbald to find Viglund who was anigh to him, and he took the ring, and the twain went their ways without more ado, and rode into the wild-wood.

But about the wain-burg was there plenteous stir of men till all was ordered for the departure of the host, which was no long while, for there was nothing to do but on with the war-gear and up on to the horse.

Forth then they went duly ordered in their kindreds towards the head of the Upper-mark, riding as swiftly as they might without breaking their array.

CHAPTER XIX—THOSE MESSENGERS COME TO THIODOLF

Of Geirbald and Viglund the tale tells that they rode the woodland paths as speedily as they might. They had not gone far, and were winding through a path amidst of a thicket mingled of the hornbeam and holly, betwixt the openings of which the bracken grew exceeding tall, when Viglund, who was very fine-eared, deemed that he heard a horse coming to meet them: so they lay as close as they might, and drew back their horses behind a great holly-bush lest it should be some one or more of the foes who had fled into the wood when the Romans were scattered in that first fight. But as the sound drew nearer, and it was clearly the footsteps of a great horse, they deemed it would be some messenger from Thiodolf, as indeed it turned out: for as the new-comer fared on, somewhat unwarily, they saw a bright helm after the fashion of the Goths amidst of the trees, and then presently they knew by his attire that he was of the Bearings, and so at last they knew him to be Asbiorn of the said House, a doughty man; so they came forth to meet him and he drew rein when he saw armed men, but presently beholding their faces he knew them and laughed on them, and said:

“Hail fellows! what tidings are toward?”

“These,” said Viglund, “that thou art well met, since now shalt thou turn back and bring us to Thiodolf as speedily as may be.”

But Asbiorn laughed and said: “Nay rather turn about with me; or why are ye so grim of countenance?”

“Our errand is no light one,” said Geirbald, “but thou, why art thou so merry?”

“I have seen the Romans fall,” said he, “and belike shall soon see more of that game: for I am on an errand to Otter from Thiodolf: the War-duke, when he had questioned some of those whom we took on the Day of the Ridge, began to have a deeming that the Romans had beguiled us, and will fall on the Mark by the way of the south-east heaths: so now is he hastening to fetch a compass and follow that road either to overtake them or prevent them; and he biddeth Otter tarry not, but ride hard along the water to meet them if he may, or ever they have set their hands to the dwellings of my House. And belike when I have done mine errand to Otter I shall ride with him to look on these burners and slayers once more; therefore am I merry. Now for your tidings, fellows.”

Said Geirbald: “Our tidings are that both our errands are prevented, and come to nought: for Otter hath not tarried, but hath ridden with all his folk toward the stead of thine House. So shalt thou indeed see these burners and slayers if thou ridest hard; since we have tidings that the Romans will by now be in Mid-mark. And as for our errand, it is to bid Thiodolf do even as he hath done. Hereby may we see how good a pair of War-dukes we have gotten, since each thinketh of the same wisdom. Now take we counsel together as to what we shall do; whether we shall go back to Otter with thee, or thou go back to Thiodolf with us; or else each go the road ordained for us.”

Said Asbiorn: “To Otter will I ride as I was bidden, that I may look on the burning of our roof, and avenge me of the Romans afterwards; and I bid you, fellows, ride with me, since fewer men there are with Otter, and he must be the first to bide the brunt of battle.”

“Nay,” said Geirbald, “as for me ye must even lose a man’s aid; for to Thiodolf was I sent, and to Thiodolf will I go: and bethink thee if this be not best, since Thiodolf hath but a deeming of the ways of the Romans and we wot surely of them. Our coming shall make him the speedier, and the less like to turn back if any alien band shall follow after him. What sayest thou, Viglund?”

Said Viglund: “Even as thou, Geirbald: but for myself I deem I may well turn back with Asbiorn. For I would serve the House in battle as soon as may be; and maybe we shall slaughter these kites of the cities, so that Thiodolf shall have no work to do when he cometh.”

Said Asbiorn; “Geirbald, knowest thou right well the ways through the wood and on the other side thereof, to the place where Thiodolf abideth? for ye see that night is at hand.”

“Nay, not over well,” said Geirbald.

Said Asbiorn: “Then I rede thee take Viglund with thee; for he knoweth them yard by yard, and where they be hard and where they be soft. Moreover it were best indeed that ye meet Thiodolf betimes; for I deem not but that he wendeth leisurely, though always warily, because he deemeth not that Otter will ride before to-morrow morning. Hearken, Viglund! Thiodolf will rest to-night on the other side of the water, nigh to where the hills break off into the sheer cliffs that are called the Kites’ Nest, and the water runneth under them, coming from the east: and before him lieth the easy ground of the eastern heaths where he is minded to wend to-morrow betimes in the morning: and if ye do your best ye shall be there before he is upon the road, and sure it is that your tidings shall hasten him.”

“Thou sayest sooth,” saith Geirbald, “tarry we no longer; here sunder our ways; farewell!”

“Farewell,” said he, “and thou, Viglund, take this word in parting, that belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike a stroke, and maybe be smitten. For indeed they be most mighty warriors.”

Then made they no delay but rode their ways either side. And Geirbald and Viglund rode over rough and smooth all night, and were out of the thick wood by day-dawn: and whereas they rode hard, and Viglund knew the ways well, they came to Mirkwood-water before the day was old, and saw that the host was stirring, but not yet on the way. And or ever they came to the water’s edge, they were met by Wolfkettle of the Wolfings, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and three others who were but just come from the place where the hurt men lay down in a dale near the Great Ridge; there had Wolfkettle and Hiarandi been tending Toti of the Beamings, their fellow-in-arms, who had been sorely hurt in the battle, but was doing well, and was like to live. So when they saw the messengers, they came up to them and hailed them, and asked them if the tidings were good or evil.

“That is as it may be,” said Geirbald, “but they are short to tell; the Romans are in Mid-mark, and Otter rideth on the spur to meet them, and sendeth us to bid Thiodolf wend the heaths to fall in on them also. Nor may we tarry one minute ere we have seen Thiodolf.”

Said Wolfkettle, “We will lead you to him; he is on the east side of the water, with all his host, and they are hard on departing.”

So they went down the ford, which was not very deep; and Wolfkettle rode the ford behind Geirbald, and another man behind Viglund; but Hiarandi went afoot with the others beside the horses, for he was a very tall man.

But as they rode amidst the clear water Wolfkettle lifted up his voice and sang:

“White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade the shallows warm,
But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm?
What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before,
On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war?
Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn,
And dusketh the Moon’s Sister, and the trees look overworn;
God’s Ash tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth white
As the bones of the giants’ father when the Gods first fared to fight.”

And indeed the morning had grown mirky and grey and threatening, and from far away the thunder growled, and the face of the Kite’s Nest showed pale and awful against a dark steely cloud; and a few drops of rain pattered into the smooth water before them from a rag of the cloud-flock right over head. They were in mid stream now, for the water was wide there; on the eastern bank were the warriors gathering, for they had beheld the faring of those men, and the voice of Wolfkettle came to them across the water, so they deemed that great tidings were toward, and would fain know on what errand those were come.

Then the waters of the ford deepened till Hiarandi was wading more than waist-deep, and the water flowed over Geirbald’s saddle; then Wolfkettle laughed, and turning as he sat, dragged out his sword, and waved it from east to west and sang:

“O sun, pale up in heaven, shrink from us if thou wilt,
And turn thy face from beholding the shock of guilt with guilt!
Stand still, O blood of summer! and let the harvest fade,
Till there be nought but fallow where once was bloom and blade!
O day, give out but a glimmer of all thy flood of light,
If it be but enough for our eyen to see the road of fight!
Forget all else and slumber, if still ye let us wake,
And our mouths shall make the thunder, and our swords shall the lightening make,
And we shall be the storm-wind and drive the ruddy rain,
Till the joy of our hearts in battle bring back the day again.”

As he spake that word they came up through the shallow water dripping on to the bank, and they and the men who abode them on the bank shouted together for joy of fellowship, and all tossed aloft their weapons. The man who had ridden behind Viglund slipped off on to the ground; but Wolfkettle abode in his place behind Geirbald.

So the messengers passed on, and the others closed up round about them, and all the throng went up to where Thiodolf was sitting on a rock beneath a sole ash-tree, the face of the Kite’s Nest rising behind him on the other side of a bight of the river. There he sat unhelmed with the dwarf-wrought hauberk about him, holding Throng-plough in its sheath across his knees, while he gave word to this and that man concerning the order of the host.

So when they were come thither, the throng opened that the messengers might come forward; for by this time had many more drawn near to hearken what was toward. There they sat on their horses, the white and the grey, and Wolfkettle stood by Geirbald’s bridle rein, for he had now lighted down; and a little behind him, his head towering over the others, stood Hiarandi great and gaunt. The ragged cloud had drifted down south-east now and the rain fell no more, but the sun was still pale and clouded.

Then Thiodolf looked gravely on them, and spake:

“What do ye sons of the War-shield? what tale is there to tell?
Is the kindred fallen tangled in the grasp of the fallow Hell?
Crows the red cock over the homesteads, have we met the foe too late?
For meseems your brows are heavy with the shadowing o’er of fate.”

But Geirbald answered:

“Still cold with dew in the morning the Shielding Roof-ridge stands,
Nor yet hath grey Hell bounden the Shielding warriors’ hands;
But lo, the swords, O War-duke, how thick in the wind they shake,
Because we bear the message that the battle-road ye take,
Nor tarry for the thunder or the coming on of rain,
Or the windy cloudy night-tide, lest your battle be but vain.
And this is the word that Otter yestre’en hath set in my mouth;
Seek thou the trail of the Aliens of the Cities of the South,
And thou shalt find it leading o’er the heaths to the beechen-wood,
And thence to the stony places where the foxes find their food;
And thence to the tangled thicket where the folkway cleaves it through,
To the eastern edge of Mid-mark where the Bearings deal and do.”

Then said Thiodolf in a cold voice, “What then hath befallen Otter?”

Said Geirbald:

“When last I looked upon Otter, all armed he rode the plain,
With his whole host clattering round him like the rush of the summer rain;
To the right or the left they looked not but they rode through the dusk and the dark
Beholding nought before them but the dream of the foes in the Mark.
So he went; but his word fled from him and on my horse it rode,
And again it saith, O War-duke seek thou the Bear’s abode,
And tarry never a moment for ought that seems of worth,
For there shall ye find the sword-edge and the flame of the foes of the earth.

“Tarry not, Thiodolf, nor turn aback though a new foe followeth on thine heels. No need to question me more; I have no more to tell, save that a woman brought these tidings to us, whom the Hall-Sun had sent with others to watch the ways: and some of them had seen the Romans, who are a great host and no band stealing forth to lift the herds.”

Now all those round about him heard his words, for he spake with a loud voice; and they knew what the bidding of the War-duke would be; so they loitered not, but each man went about his business of looking to his war-gear and gathering to the appointed place of his kindred. And even while Geirbald had been speaking, had Hiarandi brought up the man who bore the great horn, who when Thiodolf leapt to his feet to find him, was close at hand. So he bade him blow the war-blast, and all men knew the meaning of that voice of the horn, and every man armed him in haste, and they who had horses (and these were but the Bearings and the Warnings), saddled them, and mounted, and from mouth to mouth went the word that the Romans were gotten into Mid-mark, and were burning the Bearing abodes. So speedily was the whole host ready for the way, the Wolfings at the head of all. Then came forth Thiodolf from the midst of his kindred, and they raised him upon a great war-shield upheld by many men, and he stood thereon and spake:

“O sons of Tyr, ye have vanquished, and sore hath been your pain;
But he that smiteth in battle must ever smite again;
And thus with you it fareth, and the day abideth yet
When ye shall hold the Aliens as the fishes in the net.
On the Ridge ye slew a many; but there came a many more
From their strongholds by the water to their new-built garth of war,
And all these have been led by dastards o’er the way our feet must tread
Through the eastern heaths and the beech-wood to the door of the Bearing stead,
Now e’en yesterday I deemed it, but I durst not haste away
Ere the word was borne to Otter and ’tis he bids haste to-day;
So now by day and by night-tide it behoveth us to wend
And wind the reel of battle and weave its web to end.
Had ye deemed my eyes foreseeing, I would tell you of my sight,
How I see the folk delivered and the Aliens turned to flight,
While my own feet wend them onwards to the ancient Father’s Home.
But belike these are but the visions that to many a man shall come
When he goeth adown to the battle, and before him riseth high
The wall of valiant foemen to hide all things anigh.
But indeed I know full surely that no work that we may win
To-morrow or the next day shall quench the Markmen’s kin.
On many a day hereafter shall their warriors carry shield;
On many a day their maidens shall drive the kine afield,
On many a day their reapers bear sickle in the wheat
When the golden wind-wrought ripple stirs round the feast-hall’s feet.
Lo, now is the day’s work easy—to live and overcome,
Or to die and yet to conquer on the threshold of the Home.”

And therewith he gat him down and went a-foot to the head of the Wolfing band, a great shout going with him, which was mingled with the voice of the war-horn that bade away.

So fell the whole host into due array, and they were somewhat over three thousand warriors, all good and tried men and meet to face the uttermost of battle in the open field; so they went their ways with all the speed that footmen may, and in fair order; and the sky cleared above their heads, but the distant thunder still growled about the world. Geirbald and Viglund joined themselves to the Wolfings and went a-foot along with Wolfkettle; but Hiarandi went with his kindred who were second in the array.

CHAPTER XX—OTTER AND HIS FOLK COME INTO MID-MARK

Otter and his folk rode their ways along Mirkwood-water, and made no stay, except now and again to breathe their horses, till they came to Battleford in the early morning; there they baited their horses, for the grass was good in the meadow, and the water easy to come at.

So after they had rested there a short hour, and had eaten what was easy for them to get, they crossed the ford, and wended along Mirkwood-water between the wood and the river, but went slower than before lest they should weary their horses; so that it was high-noon before they had come out of the woodland way into Mid-mark; and at once as soon as the whole plain of the Mark opened out before them, they saw what most of them looked to see (since none doubted Hrosshild’s tale), and that was a column of smoke rising high and straight up into the air, for the afternoon was hot and windless. Great wrath rose in their hearts thereat, and many a strong man trembled for anger, though none for fear, as Otter raised his right hand and stretched it out towards that token of wrack and ruin; yet they made no stay, nor did they quicken their pace much; because they knew that they should come to Bearham before night-fall, and they would not meet the Romans way-worn and haggard; but they rode on steadily, a terrible company of wrathful men.

They passed by the dwellings of the kindreds, though save for the Galtings the houses on the east side of the water between the Bearings and the wild-wood road were but small; for the thicket came somewhat near to the water and pinched the meadows. But the Galtings were great hunters and trackers of the wild-wood, and they of the Geddings, the Erings and the Withings, which were smaller Houses, lived somewhat on the take of fish from Mirkwood-water (as did the Laxings also of the Nether-mark), for thereabout were there goodly pools and eddies, and sun-warmed shallows therewithal for the spawning of the trouts; as there were eyots in the water, most of which tailed off into a gravelly shallow at their lower ends.

Now as the riders of the Goths came over against the dwellings of the Withings, they saw people, mostly women, driving up the beasts from the meadow towards the garth; but upon the tofts about their dwellings were gathered many folk, who had their eyes turned toward the token of ravage that hung in the sky above the fair plain; but when these beheld the riding of the host, they tossed up their arms to them and whatever they bore in them, and the sound of their shrill cry (for they were all women and young lads) came down the wind to the ears of the riders. But down by the river on a swell of the ground were some swains and a few thralls, and among them some men armed and a-horseback; and these, when they perceived the host coming on turned and rode to meet them; and as they drew near they shouted as men overjoyed to meet their kindred; and indeed the fighting-men of their own House were riding in the host. And the armed men were three old men, and one very old with marvellous long white hair, and four long lads of some fifteen winters, and four stout carles of the thralls bearing bows and bucklers, and these rode behind the swains; so they found their own kindred and rode amongst them.

But when they were all jingling and clashing on together, the dust arising from the sun-dried turf, the earth shaking with the thunder of the horse-hoofs, then the heart of the long-hoary one stirred within him as he bethought him of the days of his youth, and to his old nostrils came the smell of the horses and the savour of the sweat of warriors riding close together knee to knee adown the meadow. So he lifted up his voice and sang:

“Rideth lovely along
The strong by the strong;
Soft under his breath
Singeth sword in the sheath,
And shield babbleth oft
Unto helm-crest aloft;
How soon shall their words rise mid wrath of the battle
Into wrangle unheeded of clanging and rattle,
And no man shall note then the gold on the sword
When the runes have no meaning, the mouth-cry no word,
When all mingled together, the war-sea of men
Shall toss up the steel-spray round fourscore and ten.

“Now as maids burn the weed
Betwixt acre and mead,
So the Bearings’ Roof
Burneth little aloof,
And red gloweth the hall
Betwixt wall and fair wall,
Where often the mead-sea we sipped in old days,
When our feet were a-weary with wending the ways;
When the love of the lovely at even was born,
And our hands felt fair hands as they fell on the horn.
There round about standeth the ring of the foe
Tossing babes on their spears like the weeds o’er the low.

“Ride, ride then! nor spare
The red steeds as ye fare!
Yet if daylight shall fail,
By the fire-light of bale
Shall we see the bleared eyes
Of the war-learned, the wise.
In the acre of battle the work is to win,
Let us live by the labour, sheaf-smiting therein;
And as oft o’er the sickle we sang in time past
When the crake that long mocked us fled light at the last,
So sing o’er the sword, and the sword-hardened hand
Bearing down to the reaping the wrath of the land.”

So he sang; and a great shout went up from his kindred and those around him, and it was taken up all along the host, though many knew not why they shouted, and the whole host quickened its pace, and went a great trot over the smooth meadow.

So in no long while were they come over against the stead of the Erings, and thereabouts were no beasts afield, and no women, for all the neat were driven into the garth of the House; but all they who were not war-fit were standing without doors looking down the Mark towards the reek of the Bearing dwellings, and these also sent a cry of welcome toward the host of their kindred. But along the river-bank came to meet the host an armed band of two old men, two youths who were their sons, and twelve thralls who were armed with long spears; and all these were a-horseback: so they fell in with their kindred and the host made no stay for them, but pressed on over-running the meadow. And still went up that column of smoke, and thicker and blacker it grew a-top, and ruddier amidmost.

So came they by the abode of the Geddings, and there also the neat and sheep were close in the home-garth: but armed men were lying or standing about the river bank, talking or singing merrily none otherwise than though deep peace were on the land; and when they saw the faring of the host they sprang to their feet with a shout and gat to their horses at once: they were more than the other bands had been, for the Geddings were a greater House; they were seven old men, and ten swains, and ten thralls bearing long spears like to those of the Erings; and no sooner had they fallen in with their kindred, than the men of the host espied a greater company yet coming to meet them: and these were of the folk of the Galtings; and amongst them were ten warriors in their prime, because they had but of late come back from the hunting in the wood and had been belated from the muster of the kindreds; and with them were eight old men and fifteen lads, and eighteen thralls; and the swains and thralls all bore bows besides the swords that they were girt withal, and not all of them had horses, but they who had none rode behind the others: so they joined themselves to the host, shouting aloud; and they had with them a great horn that they blew on till they had taken their place in the array; and whereas their kindred was with Thiodolf, they followed along with the hinder men of the Shieldings.

So now all the host went on together, and when they had passed the Galting abodes, there was nothing between them and Bearham, nor need they look for any further help of men; there were no beasts afield nor any to herd them, and the stay-at-homes were within doors dighting them for departure into the wild-wood if need should be: but a little while after they had passed these dwellings came into the host two swains of about twenty winters, and a doughty maid, their sister, and they bare no weapons save short spears and knives; they were wet and dripping with the water, for they had just swum Mirkwood-water. They were of the Wolfing House, and had been shepherding a few sheep on the west side of the water, when they saw the host faring to battle, and might not refrain them, but swam their horses across the swift deeps to join their kindred to live and die with them. The tale tells that they three fought in the battles that followed after, and were not slain there, though they entered them unarmed, but lived long years afterwards: of them need no more be said.

Now, when the host was but a little past the Galting dwellings men began to see the flames mingled with the smoke of the burning, and the smoke itself growing thinner, as though the fire had over-mastered everything and was consuming itself with its own violence; and somewhat afterwards, the ground rising, they could see the Bearing meadow and the foemen thereon: yet a little further, and from the height of another swelling of the earth they could see the burning houses themselves and the array of the Romans; so there they stayed and breathed their horses a while. And they beheld how of the Romans a great company was gathered together in close array betwixt the ford and the Bearing Hall, but nigher unto the ford, and these were a short mile from them; but others they saw streaming out from the burning dwellings, as if their work were done there, and they could not see that they had any captives with them. Other Romans there were, and amongst them men in the attire of the Goths, busied about the river banks, as though they were going to try the ford.

But a little while abode Otter in that place, and then waved his arm and rode on and all the host followed; and as they drew nigher, Otter, who was wise in war, beheld the Romans and deemed them a great host, and the very kernel and main body of them many more than all his company; and moreover they were duly and well arrayed as men waiting a foe; so he knew that he must be wary or he would lose himself and all his men.

So he stayed his company when they were about two furlongs from them, and the main body of the foe stirred not, but horsemen and slingers came forth from its sides and made on toward the Goths, and in three or four minutes were within bowshot of them. Then the bowmen of the Goths slipped down from their horses and bent their bows and nocked their arrows and let fly, and slew and hurt many of the horsemen, who endured their shot but for a minute or two and then turned rein and rode back slowly to their folk, and the slingers came not on very eagerly whereas they were dealing with men a-horseback, and the bowmen of the Goths also held them still.

Now turned Otter to his folk and made them a sign, which they knew well, that they should get down from their horses; and when they were afoot the leaders of tens and hundreds arrayed them, into the wedge-array, with the bowmen on either flank: and Otter smiled as he beheld this adoing and that the Romans meddled not with them, belike because they looked to have them good cheap, since they were but a few wild men.

But when they were all arrayed he sat still on his horse and spake to them short and sharply, saying:

“Men of the Goths, will ye mount your horses again and ride into the wood and let it cover you, or will ye fight these Romans?” They answered him with a great shout and the clashing of their weapons on their shields. “That is well,” quoth Otter, “since we have come so far; for I perceive that the foe will come to meet us, so that we must either abide their shock or turn our backs. Yet must we fight wisely or we are undone, and Thiodolf in risk of undoing; this have we to do if we may, to thrust in between them and the ford, and if we may do that, there let us fight it out, till we fall one over another. But if we may not do it, then will we not throw our lives away but do the foemen what hurt we may without mingling ourselves amongst them, and so abide the coming of Thiodolf; for if we get not betwixt them and the ford we may in no case hinder them from crossing. And all this I tell you that ye may follow me wisely, and refrain your wrath that ye may live yet to give it the rein when the time comes.”

So he spake and got down from his horse and drew his sword and went to the head of the wedge-array and began slowly to lead forth; but the thralls and swains had heed of the horses, and they drew aback with them towards the wood which was but a little way from them.

But for Otter he led his men down towards the ford, and when the Romans saw that, their main body began to move forward, faring slant-wise, as a crab, down toward the ford; then Otter hastened somewhat, as he well might, since his men were well learned in war and did not break their array; but now by this time were those burners of the Romans come up with the main battle, and the Roman captain sent them at once against the Goths, and they advanced boldly enough, a great cloud of men in loose array who fell to with arrows and slings on the wedge-array and slew and hurt many: yet did not Otter stay his folk; but it was ill going for them, for their unshielded sides were turned to the Romans, nor durst Otter scatter his bowmen out from the wedge-array, lest the Romans, who were more than they, should enter in amongst them. Ever he gazed earnestly on the main battle of the Romans, and what they were doing, and presently it became clear to him that they would outgo him and come to the ford, and then he wotted well that they would set on him just when their light-armed were on his flank and his rearward, and then it would go hard but they would break their array and all would be lost: therefore he slacked his pace and went very slowly and the Romans went none the slower for that; but their light-armed grew bolder and drew more together as they came nigher to the Goths, as though they would give them an onset; but just at that nick of time Otter passed the word down the ranks, and, waving his sword, turned sharply to the right and fell with all the wedge-array on the clustering throng of the light-armed, and his bowmen spread out now from the right flank of the wedge-array, and shot sharp and swift and the bowmen on the left flank ran forward swiftly till they had cleared the wedge-array and were on the flank of the light-armed Romans; and they, what between the onset of the swordsmen and spearmen of the Goths, and their sharp arrows, knew not which way to turn, and a great slaughter befell amongst them, and they of them were the happiest who might save themselves by their feet.

Now after this storm, and after these men had been thrust away, Otter stayed not, but swept round about the field toward the horses; and indeed he looked to it that the main-battle of the Romans should follow him, but they did not, but stayed still to receive the fleers of their light-armed. And this indeed was the goodhap of the Goths; for they were somewhat disordered by their chase of the light-armed, and they smote and spared not, their hearts being full of bitter wrath, as might well be; for even as they turned on the Romans, they beheld the great roof of the Bearings fall in over the burned hall, and a great shower of sparks burst up from its fall, and there were the ragged gables left standing, licked by little tongues of flame which could not take hold of them because of the clay which filled the spaces between the great timbers and was daubed over them. And they saw that all the other houses were either alight or smouldering, down to the smallest cot of a thrall, and even the barns and booths both great and little.

Therefore, whereas the Markmen were far fewer in all than the Roman main-battle, and whereas this same host was in very good array, no doubt there was that the Markmen would have been grievously handled had the Romans fallen on; but the Roman Captain would not have it so: for though he was a bold man, yet was his boldness that of the wolf, that falleth on when he is hungry and skulketh when he is full. He was both young and very rich, and a mighty man among his townsmen, and well had he learned that ginger is hot in the mouth, and though he had come forth to the war for the increasing of his fame, he had no will to die among the Markmen, either for the sake of the city of Rome, or of any folk whatsoever, but was liefer to live for his own sake. Therefore was he come out to vanquish easily, that by his fame won he might win more riches and dominion in Rome; and he was well content also to have for his own whatever was choice amongst the plunder of these wild-men (as he deemed them), if it were but a fair woman or two. So this man thought, It is my business to cross the ford and come to Wolfstead, and there take the treasure of the tribe, and have a stronghold there, whence we may slay so many of these beasts with little loss to us that we may march away easily and with our hands full, even if Maenius with his men come not to our aid, as full surely he will: therefore as to these angry men, who be not without might and conduct in battle, let us remember the old saw that saith ‘a bridge of gold to a fleeing foe,’ and let them depart with no more hurt of Romans, and seek us afterwards when we are fenced into their stead, which shall then be our stronghold: even so spake he to his Captains about him.

For it must be told that he had no tidings of the overthrow of the Romans on the Ridge; nor did he know surely how many fighting-men the Markmen might muster, except by the report of those dastards of the Goths; and though he had taken those two women in the wastes, yet had he got no word from them, for they did as the Hall-Sun bade them, when they knew that they would be questioned with torments, and smiting themselves each with a little sharp knife, so went their ways to the Gods.

Thus then the Roman Captain let the Markmen go their ways, and turned toward the ford, and the Markmen went slowly now toward their horses. Howbeit there were many of them who murmured against Otter, saying that it was ill done to have come so far and ridden so hard, and then to have done so little, and that were to-morrow come, they would not be led away so easily: but now they said it was ill; for the Romans would cross the water, and make their ways to Wolfstead, none hindering them, and would burn the dwellings and slay the old men and thralls, and have away the women and children and the Hall-Sun the treasure of the Markmen. In sooth, they knew not that a band of the Roman light-armed had already crossed the water, and had fallen upon the dwellings of the Wolfings; but that the old men and younglings and thralls of the House had come upon them as they were entangled amidst the tofts and the garths, and had overcome them and slain many.

Thus went Otter and his men to their horses when it was now drawing toward sunset (for all this was some while adoing), and betook them to a rising ground not far from the wood-side, and there made what sort of a garth they might, with their horses and the limbs of trees and long-shafted spears; and they set a watch and abode in the garth right warily, and lighted no fires when night fell, but ate what meat they had with them, which was but little, and so sleeping and watching abode the morning. But the main body of the Romans did not cross the ford that night, for they feared lest they might go astray therein, for it was an ill ford to those that knew not the water: so they abode on the bank nigh to the water’s edge, with the mind to cross as soon as it was fairly daylight.

Now Otter had lost of his men some hundred and twenty slain or grievously hurt, and they had away with them the hurt men and the bodies of the slain. The tale tells not how many of the Romans were slain, but a many of their light-armed had fallen, since the Markmen had turned so hastily upon them, and they had with them many of the best bowmen of the Mark.

CHAPTER XXI—THEY BICKER ABOUT THE FORD

In the grey of the morning was Otter afoot with the watchers, and presently he got on his horse and peered over the plain, but the mist yet hung low on it, so that he might see nought for a while; but at last he seemed to note something coming toward the host from the upper water above the ford, so he rode forward to meet it, and lo, it was a lad of fifteen winters, naked save his breeches, and wet from the river; and Otter drew rein, and the lad said to him: “Art thou the War-duke?” “Yea,” said Otter.

Said the lad, “I am Ali, the son of Grey, and the Hall-Sun hath sent me to thee with this word: ‘Are ye coming? Is Thiodolf at hand? For I have seen the Roof-ridge red in the sunlight as if it were painted with cinnabar.’”

Said Otter, “Art thou going back to Wolfstead, son?”

“Yea, at once, my father,” said Ali.

“Then tell her,” said Otter, “that Thiodolf is at hand, and when he cometh we shall both together fall upon the Romans either in crossing the ford or in the Wolfing meadow; but tell her also that I am not strong enough to hinder the Romans from crossing.”

“Father,” said Ali, “the Hall-Sun saith: Thou art wise in war; now tell us, shall we hold the Hall against the Romans that ye may find us there? For we have discomfited their vanguard already, and we have folk who can fight; but belike the main battle of the Romans shall get the upper hand of us ere ye come to our helping: belike it were better to leave the hall, and let the wood cover us.”

“Now is this well asked,” said Otter; “get thee back, my son, and bid the Hall-Sun trust not to warding of the Hall, for the Romans are a mighty host: and this day, even when Thiodolf cometh hither, shall be hard for the Goth-folk: let her hasten lest these thieves come upon her hastily; let her take the Hall-Sun her namesake, and the old men and children and the women, and let those fighting folk she hath be a guard to all this in the wood. And hearken moreover; it will, maybe, be six hours ere Thiodolf cometh; tell her I will cast the dice for life or death, and stir up these Romans now at once, that they may have other things to think of than burning old men and women and children in their dwellings; thus may she reach the wood unhindered. Hast thou all this in thine head? Then go thy ways.”

But the lad lingered, and he reddened and looked on the ground and then he said: “My father, I swam the deeps, and when I reached this bank, I crept along by the mist and the reeds toward where the Romans are, and I came near to them, and noted what they were doing; and I tell thee that they are already stirring to take the water at the ford. Now then do what thou wilt.”

Therewith he turned about, and went his way at once, running like a colt which has never felt halter or bit.

But Otter rode back hastily and roused certain men in whom he trusted, and bid them rouse the captains and all the host and bid men get to horse speedily and with as little noise as might be. So did they, and there was little delay, for men were sleeping with one eye open, as folk say, and many were already astir. So in a little while they were all in the saddle, and the mist yet stretched low over the meadow; for the morning was cool and without wind. Then Otter bade the word be carried down the ranks that they should ride as quietly as may be and fare through the mist to do the Romans some hurt, but in nowise to get entangled in their ranks, and all men to heed well the signal of turning and drawing aback; and therewith they rode off down the meadow led by men who could have led them through the dark night.

But for the Romans, they were indeed getting ready to cross the ford when the mist should have risen; and on the bank it was thinning already and melting away; for a little air of wind was beginning to breathe from the north-east and the sunrise, which was just at hand; and the bank, moreover, was stonier and higher than the meadow’s face, which fell away from it as a shallow dish from its rim: thereon yet lay the mist like a white wall.

So the Romans and their friends the dastards of the Goths had well nigh got all ready, and had driven stakes into the water from bank to bank to mark out the safe ford, and some of their light-armed and most of their Goths were by now in the water or up on the Wolfing meadow with the more part of their baggage and wains; and the rest of the host was drawn up in good order, band by band, waiting the word to take the water, and the captain was standing nigh to the river bank beside their God the chief banner of the Host.

Of a sudden one of the dastards of the Goths who was close to the Captain cried out that he heard horse coming; but because he spake in the Gothic tongue, few heeded; but even therewith an old leader of a hundred cried out the same tidings in the Roman tongue, and all men fell to handling their weapons; but before they could face duly toward the meadow, came rushing from out of the mist a storm of shafts that smote many men, and therewithal burst forth the sound of the Markmen’s war-horn, like the roaring of a hundred bulls mingled with the thunder of horses at the gallop; and then dark over the wall of mist showed the crests of the riders of the Mark, though scarce were their horses seen till their whole war-rank came dark and glittering into the space of the rising-ground where the mist was but a haze now, and now at last smitten athwart by the low sun just arisen.

Therewith came another storm of shafts, wherein javelins and spears cast by the hand were mingled with the arrows: but the Roman ranks had faced the meadow and the storm which it yielded, swiftly and steadily, and they stood fast and threw their spears, albeit not with such good aim as might have been, because of their haste, so that few were slain by them. And the Roman Captain still loth to fight with the Goths in earnest for no reward, and still more and more believing that this was the only band of them that he had to look to, bade those who were nighest the ford not to tarry for the onset of a few wild riders, but to go their ways into the water; else by a sudden onrush might the Romans have entangled Otter’s band in their ranks, and so destroyed all. As it was the horsemen fell not on the Roman ranks full in face, but passing like a storm athwart the ranks to the right, fell on there where they were in thinnest array (for they were gathered to the ford as aforesaid), and slew some and drave some into the deeps and troubled the whole Roman host.

So now the Roman Captain was forced to take new order, and gather all his men together, and array his men for a hard fight; and by now the mist was rolling off from the face of the whole meadow and the sun was bright and hot. His men serried their ranks, and the front rank cast their spears, and slew both men and horses of the Goths as those rode along their front casting their javelins, and shooting here and there from behind their horses if occasion served, or making a shift to send an arrow even as they sat a-horseback; then the second rank of the Romans would take the place of the first, and cast in their turn, and they who had taken the water turned back and took their place behind the others, and many of the light-armed came with them, and all the mass of them flowed forward together, looking as if it might never be broken. But Otter would not abide the shock, since he had lost men and horses, and had no mind to be caught in the sweep of their net; so he made the sign, and his Company drew off to right and left, yet keeping within bowshot, so that the bowmen still loosed at the Romans.

But they for their part might not follow afoot men on untired horses, and their own horse was on the west side with the baggage, and had it been there would have been but of little avail, as the Roman Captain knew. So they stood awhile making grim countenance, and then slowly drew back to the ford under cover of their light-armed who shot at the Goths as they rode forward, but abode not their shock.

But Otter and his folk followed after the Romans again, and again did them some hurt, and at last drew so nigh, that once more the Romans stormed forth, and once more smote a stroke in the air; nor even so would the Markmen cease to meddle with them, though never would Otter suffer his men to be mingled with them. At the last the Romans, seeing that Otter would not walk into the open trap, and growing weary of this bickering, began to take the water little by little, while a strong Company kept face to the Markmen; and now Otter saw that they would not be hindered any longer, and he had lost many men, and even now feared lest he should be caught in the trap, and so lose all. And on the other hand it was high noon by now, so that he had given respite to the stay-at-homes of the Wolfings, so that they might get them into the wood. So he drew out of bowshot and bade his men breathe their horses and rest themselves and eat something; and they did so gladly, since they saw that they might not fall upon the Romans to live and die for it until Thiodolf was come, or until they knew that he was not coming. But the Romans crossed the ford in good earnest and were soon all gathered together on the western bank making them ready for the march to Wolfstead. And it must be told that the Roman Captain was the more deliberate about this because after the overthrow of his light-armed there the morning before, he thought that the Roof was held by warriors of the kindreds, and not by a few old men, and women, and lads. Therefore he had no fear of their escaping him. Moreover it was this imagination of his, to wit that a strong band of warriors was holding Wolf-stead, that made him deem there were no more worth thinking about of the warriors of the Mark save Otter’s Company and the men in the Hall of the Wolfings.

CHAPTER XXII—OTTER FALLS ON AGAINST HIS WILL

It was with the same imagination working in him belike that the Roman Captain set none to guard the ford on the westward side of Mirkwood-water. The Romans tarried there but a little hour, and then went their ways; but Otter sent a man on a swift horse to watch them, and when they were clean gone for half an hour, he bade his folk to horse, and they departed, all save a handful of the swains and elders, who were left to tell the tidings to Thiodolf when he should come into Mid-mark.

So Otter and his folk crossed the ford, and drew up in good order on the westward bank, and it was then somewhat more than three hours after noon. He had been there but a little while before he noted a stir in the Bearing meadow, and lo, it was the first of Thiodolf’s folk, who had gotten out of the wood and had fallen in with the men whom he had left behind. And these first were the riders of the Bearings, and the Wormings, (for they had out-gone the others who were afoot). It may well be thought how fearful was their anger when they set eyes on the smouldering ashes of the dwellings; nor even when those folk of Otter had told them all they had to tell could some of them refrain them from riding off to the burnt houses to seek for the bodies of their kindred. But when they came there, and amidst the ashes could find no bones, their hearts were lightened, and yet so mad wroth they were, that some could scarce sit their horses, and great tears gushed from the eyes of some, and pattered down like hail-stones, so eager were they to see the blood of the Romans. So they rode back to where they had left their folk talking with them of Otter; and the Bearings were sitting grim upon their horses and somewhat scowling on Otter’s men. Then the foremost of those who had come back from the houses waved his hand toward the ford, but could say nought for a while; but the captain and chief of the Bearings, a grizzled man very big of body, whose name was Arinbiorn, spake to that man and said; “What aileth thee Sweinbiorn the Black? What hast thou seen?”

He said:

“Now red and grey is the pavement of the Bearings’ house of old:
Red yet is the floor of the dais, but the hearth all grey and cold.
I knew not the house of my fathers; I could not call to mind
The fashion of the building of that Warder of the Wind.
O wide were grown the windows, and the roof exceeding high!
For nought there was to look on ’twixt the pavement and the sky.
But the tie-beam lay on the dais, and methought its staining fair;
For rings of smoothest charcoal were round it here and there,
And the red flame flickered o’er it, and never a staining wight
Hath red earth in his coffer so clear and glittering bright,
And still the little smoke-wreaths curled o’er it pale and blue.
Yea, fair is our hall’s adorning for a feast that is strange and new.”

Said Arinbiorn: “What sawest thou therein, O Sweinbiorn, where sat thy grandsire at the feast? Where were the bones of thy mother lying?”

Said Sweinbiorn:

“We sought the feast-hall over, and nought we found therein
Of the bones of the ancient mothers, or the younglings of the kin.
The men are greedy, doubtless, to lose no whit of the prey,
And will try if the hoary elders may yet outlive the way
That leads to the southland cities, till at last they come to stand
With the younglings in the market to be sold in an alien land.”

Arinbiorn’s brow lightened somewhat; but ere he could speak again an ancient thrall of the Galtings spake and said:

“True it is, O warriors of the Bearings, that we might not see any war-thralls being led away by the Romans when they came away from the burning dwellings; and we deem it certain that they crossed the water before the coming of the Romans, and that they are now with the stay-at-homes of the Wolfings in the wild-wood behind the Wolfing dwellings, for we hear tell that the War-duke would not that the Hall-Sun should hold the Hall against the whole Roman host.”

Then Sweinbiorn tossed up his sword into the air and caught it by the hilts as it fell, and cried out: “On, on to the meadow, where these thieves abide us!” Arinbiorn spake no word, but turned his horse and rode down to the ford, and all men followed him; and of the Bearings there were an hundred warriors save one, and of the Wormings eighty and seven.

So rode they over the meadow and into the ford and over it, and Otter’s company stood on the bank to meet them, and shouted to see them; but the others made but little noise as they crossed the water.

So when they were on the western bank Arinbiorn came among them of Otter, and cried out: “Where then is Otter, where is the War-duke, is he alive or dead?”

And the throng opened to him and Otter stood facing him; and Arinbiorn spake and said: “Thou art alive and unhurt, War-duke, when many have been hurt and slain; and methinks thy company is little minished though the kindred of the Bearings lacketh a roof; and its elders and women and children are gone into captivity. What is this? Was it a light thing that gangrel thieves should burn and waste in Mid-mark and depart unhurt, that ye stand here with clean blades and cold bodies?”

Said Otter: “Thou grievest for the hurt of thine House, Arinbiorn; but this at least is good, that though ye have lost the timber of your house ye have not lost its flesh and blood; the shell is gone, but the kernel is saved: for thy folk are by this time in the wood with the Wolfing stay-at-homes, and among these are many who may fight on occasion, so they are safe as for this time: the Romans may not come at them to hurt them.”

Said Arinbiorn: “Had ye time to learn all this, Otter, when ye fled so fast before the Romans, that the father tarried not for the son, nor the son for the father?”

He spoke in a loud voice so that many heard him, and some deemed it evil; for anger and dissension between friends seemed abroad; but some were so eager for battle, that the word of Arinbiorn seemed good to them, and they laughed for pride and anger.

Then Otter answered meekly, for he was a wise man and a bold: “We fled not, Arinbiorn, but as the sword fleeth, when it springeth up from the iron helm to fall on the woollen coat. Are we not now of more avail to you, O men of the Bearings, than our dead corpses would have been?”

Arinbiorn answered not, but his face waxed red, as if he were struggling with a weight hard to lift: then said Otter:

“But when will Thiodolf and the main battle be with us?”

Arinbiorn answered calmly: “Maybe in a little hour from now, or somewhat more.”

Said Otter: “My rede is that we abide him here, and when we are all met and well ordered together, fall on the Romans at once: for then shall we be more than they; whereas now we are far fewer, and moreover we shall have to set on them in their ground of vantage.”

Arinbiorn answered nothing; but an old man of the Bearings, one Thorbiorn, came up and spake:

“Warriors, here are we talking and taking counsel, though this is no Hallowed Thing to bid us what we shall do, and what we shall forbear; and to talk thus is less like warriors than old women wrangling over the why and wherefore of a broken crock. Let the War-duke rule here, as is but meet and right. Yet if I might speak and not break the peace of the Goths, then would I say this, that it might be better for us to fall on these Romans at once before they have cast up a dike about them, as Fox telleth is their wont, and that even in an hour they may do much.”

As he spake there was a murmur of assent about him, but Otter spake sharply, for he was grieved.

“Thorbiorn, thou art old, and shouldest not be void of prudence. Now it had been better for thee to have been in the wood to-day to order the women and the swains according to thine ancient wisdom than to egg on my young warriors to fare unwarily. Here will I abide Thiodolf.”

Then Thorbiorn reddened and was wroth; but Arinbiorn spake:

“What is this to-do? Let the War-duke rule as is but right: but I am now become a man of Thiodolf’s company; and he bade me haste on before to help all I might. Do thou as thou wilt, Otter: for Thiodolf shall be here in an hour’s space, and if much diking shall be done in an hour, yet little slaying, forsooth, shall be done, and that especially if the foe is all armed and slayeth women and children. Yea if the Bearing women be all slain, yet shall not Tyr make us new ones out of the stones of the waste to wed with the Galtings and the fish-eating Houses?—this is easy to be done forsooth. Yea, easier than fighting the Romans and overcoming them!”

And he was very wrath, and turned away; and again there was a murmur and a hum about him. But while these had been speaking aloud, Sweinbiorn had been talking softly to some of the younger men, and now he shook his naked sword in the air and spake aloud and sang:

“Ye tarry, Bears of Battle! ye linger, Sons of the Worm!
Ye crouch adown, O kindreds, from the gathering of the storm!
Ye say, it shall soon pass over and we shall fare afield
And reap the wheat with the war-sword and winnow in the shield.
But where shall be the corner wherein ye then shall abide,
And where shall be the woodland where the whelps of the bears shall hide
When ’twixt the snowy mountains and the edges of the sea
These men have swept the wild-wood and the fields where men may be
Of every living sword-blade, and every quivering spear,
And in the southland cities the yoke of slaves ye bear?
Lo ye! whoever follows I fare to sow the seed
Of the days to be hereafter and the deed that comes of deed.”

Therewith he waved his sword over his head, and made as if he would spur onward. But Arinbiorn thrust through the press and outwent him and cried out:

“None goeth before Arinbiorn the Old when the battle is pitched in the meadows of the kindred. Come, ye sons of the Bear, ye children of the Worm! And come ye, whosoever hath a will to see stout men die!”

Then on he rode nor looked behind him, and the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings drew themselves out of the throng, and followed him, and rode clattering over the meadow towards Wolfstead. A few of the others rode with them, and yet but a few. For they remembered the holy Folk-mote and the oath of the War-duke, and how they had chosen Otter to be their leader. Howbeit, man looked askance at man, as if in shame to be left behind.

But Otter bethought him in the flash of a moment, “If these men ride alone, they shall die and do nothing; and if we ride with them it may be that we shall overthrow the Romans, and if we be vanquished, it shall go hard but we shall slay many of them, so that it shall be the easier for Thiodolf to deal with them.”

Then he spake hastily, and bade certain men abide at the ford for a guard; then he drew his sword and rode to the front of his folk, and cried out aloud to them:

“Now at last has come the time to die, and let them of the Markmen who live hereafter lay us in howe. Set on, Sons of Tyr, and give not your lives away, but let them be dearly earned of our foemen.”

Then all shouted loudly and gladly; nor were they otherwise than exceeding glad; for now had they forgotten all other joys of life save the joy of fighting for the kindred and the days to be.

So Otter led them forth, and when he heard the whole company clattering and thundering on the earth behind him and felt their might enter into him, his brow cleared, and the anxious lines in the face of the old man smoothed themselves out, and as he rode along the soul so stirred within him that he sang out aloud:

“Time was when hot was the summer and I was young on the earth,
And I grudged me every moment that lacked its share of mirth.
I woke in the morn and was merry and all the world methought
For me and my heart’s deliverance that hour was newly wrought.
I have passed through the halls of manhood, I have reached the doors of eld,
And I have been glad and sorry, but ever have upheld
My heart against all trouble that none might call me sad,
But ne’er came such remembrance of how my heart was glad
In the afternoon of summer ’neath the still unwearied sun
Of the days when I was little and all deeds were hopes to be won,
As now at last it cometh when e’en in such-like tide,
For the freeing of my trouble o’er the fathers’ field I ride.”

Many men perceived that he sang, and saw that he was merry, howbeit few heard his very words, and yet all were glad of him.

Fast they rode, being wishful to catch up with the Bearings and the Wormings, and soon they came anigh them, and they, hearing the thunder of the horse-hoofs, looked and saw that it was the company of Otter, and so slacked their speed till they were all joined together with joyous shouting and laughter. So then they ordered the ranks anew and so set forward in great joy without haste or turmoil toward Wolfstead and the Romans. For now the bitterness of their fury and the sourness of their abiding wrath were turned into the mere joy of battle; even as the clear red and sweet wine comes of the ugly ferment and rough trouble of the must.

CHAPTER XXIII—THIODOLF MEETETH THE ROMANS IN THE WOLFING MEADOW

It was scarce an hour after this that the footmen of Thiodolf came out of the thicket road on to the meadow of the Bearings; there saw they men gathered on a rising ground, and they came up to them and saw how some of them were looking with troubled faces towards the ford and what lay beyond it, and some toward the wood and the coming of Thiodolf. But these were they whom Otter had bidden abide Thiodolf there, and he had sent two messengers to them for Thiodolf’s behoof that he might have due tidings so soon as he came out of the thicket: the first told how Otter had been compelled in a manner to fall on the Romans along with the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings, and the second who had but just then come, told how the Markmen had been worsted by the Romans, and had given back from the Wolfing dwellings, and were making a stand against the foemen in the meadow betwixt the ford and Wolfstead.

Now when Thiodolf heard of these tidings he stayed not to ask long questions, but led the whole host straightway down to the ford, lest the remnant of Otter’s men should be driven down there, and the Romans should hold the western bank against him.

At the ford there was none to withstand them, nor indeed any man at all; for the men whom Otter had set there, when they heard that the battle had gone against their kindred, had ridden their ways to join them. So Thiodolf crossed over the ford, he and his in good order all afoot, he like to the others; but for him he was clad in the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk, but was unhelmeted and bare no shield. Throng-plough was naked in his hand as he came up all dripping on to the bank and stood in the meadow of the Wolfings; his face was stern and set as he gazed straight onward to the place of the fray, but he did not look as joyous as his wont was in going down to the battle.

Now they had gone but a short way from the ford before the noise of the fight and the blowing of horns came down the wind to them, but it was a little way further before they saw the fray with their eyes; because the ground fell away from the river somewhat at first, and then rose and fell again before it went up in one slope toward the Wolfing dwellings.

But when they were come to the top of the next swelling of the ground, they beheld from thence what they had to deal with; for there round about a ground of vantage was the field black with the Roman host, and in the midst of it was a tangle of struggling men and tossing spears, and glittering swords.

So when they beheld the battle of their kindred they gave a great shout and hastened onward the faster; and they were ordered into the wedge-array and Thiodolf led them, as meet it was. And now even as they who were on the outward edge of the array and could see what was toward were looking on the battle with eager eyes, there came an answering shout down the wind, which they knew for the voice of the Goths amid the foemen, and then they saw how the ring of the Romans shook and parted, and their array fell back, and lo the company of the Markmen standing stoutly together, though sorely minished; and sure it was that they had not fled or been scattered, but were ready to fall one over another in one band, for there were no men straggling towards the ford, though many masterless horses ran here and there about the meadow. Now, therefore, none doubted but that they would deliver their friends from the Romans, and overthrow the foemen.

But now befel a wonder, a strange thing to tell of. The Romans soon perceived what was adoing, whereupon the half of them turned about to face the new comers, while the other half still withstood the company of Otter: the wedge-array of Thiodolf drew nearer and nearer till it was hard on the place where it should spread itself out to storm down on the foe, and the Goths beset by the Romans made them ready to fall on from their side. There was Thiodolf leading his host, and all men looking for the token and sign to fall on; but even as he lifted up Throng-plough to give that sign, a cloud came over his eyes and he saw nought of all that was before him, and he staggered back as one who hath gotten a deadly stroke, and so fell swooning to the earth, though none had smitten him. Then stayed was the wedge-array even at the very point of onset, and the hearts of the Goths sank, for they deemed that their leader was slain, and those who were nearest to him raised him up and bore him hastily aback out of the battle; and the Romans also had beheld him fall, and they also deemed him dead or sore hurt, and shouted for joy and loitered not, but stormed forth on the wedge-array like valiant men; for it must be told that they, who erst out-numbered the company of Otter, were now much out-numbered, but they deemed it might well be that they could dismay the Goths since they had been stayed by the fall of their leader; and Otter’s company were wearied with sore fighting against a great host. Nevertheless these last, who had not seen the fall of Thiodolf (for the Romans were thick between him and them) fell on with such exceeding fury that they drove the Romans who faced them back on those who had set on the wedge-array, which also stood fast undismayed; for he who stood next to Thiodolf, a man big of body, and stout of heart, hight Thorolf, hove up a great axe and cried out aloud:

“Here is the next man to Thiodolf! here is one who will not fall till some one thrusts him over, here is Thorolf of the Wolfings! Stand fast and shield you, and smite, though Thiodolf be gone untimely to the Gods!”

So none gave back a foot, and fierce was the fight about the wedge-array; and the men of Otter—but there was no Otter there, and many another man was gone, and Arinbiorn the Old led them—these stormed on so fiercely that they cleft their way through all and joined themselves to their kindred, and the battle was renewed in the Wolfing meadow. But the Romans had this gain, that Thiodolf’s men had let go their occasion for falling on the Romans with their line spread out so that every man might use his weapons; yet were the Goths strong both in valiancy and in numbers, nor might the Romans break into their array, and as aforesaid the Romans were the fewer, for it was less than half of their host that had pursued the Goths when they had been thrust back from their fierce onset: nor did more than the half seem needed, so many of them had fallen along with Otter the War-duke and Sweinbiorn of the Bearings, that they seemed to the Romans but a feeble band easy to overcome.

So fought they in the Wolfing meadow in the fifth hour after high-noon, and neither yielded to the other: but while these things were a-doing, men laid Thiodolf adown aloof from the battle under a doddered oak half a furlong from where the fight was a-doing, round whose bole clung flocks of wool from the sheep that drew around it in the hot summer-tide and rubbed themselves against it, and the ground was trodden bare of grass round the bole, and close to the trunk was worn into a kind of trench. There then they laid Thiodolf, and they wondered that no blood came from him, and that there was no sign of a shot-weapon in his body.

But as for him, when he fell, all memory of the battle and what had gone before it faded from his mind, and he passed into sweet and pleasant dreams wherein he was a lad again in the days before he had fought with the three Hun-Kings in the hazelled field. And in these dreams he was doing after the manner of young lads, sporting in the meadows, backing unbroken colts, swimming in the river, going a-hunting with the elder carles. And especially he deemed that he was in the company of one old man who had taught him both wood-craft and the handling of weapons: and fair at first was his dream of his doings with this man; he was with him in the forge smithying a sword-blade, and hammering into its steel the thin golden wires; and fishing with an angle along with him by the eddies of Mirkwood-water; and sitting with him in an ingle of the Hall, the old man telling a tale of an ancient warrior of the Wolfings hight Thiodolf also: then suddenly and without going there, they were in a little clearing of the woods resting after hunting, a roe-deer with an arrow in her lying at their feet, and the old man was talking, and telling Thiodolf in what wise it was best to go about to get the wind of a hart; but all the while there was going on the thunder of a great gale of wind through the woodland boughs, even as the drone of a bag-pipe cleaves to the tune. Presently Thiodolf arose and would go about his hunting again, and stooped to take up his spear, and even therewith the old man’s speech stayed, and Thiodolf looked up, and lo, his face was white like stone, and he touched him, and he was hard as flint, and like the image of an ancient god as to his face and hands, though the wind stirred his hair and his raiment, as they did before. Therewith a great pang smote Thiodolf in his dream, and he felt as if he also were stiffening into stone, and he strove and struggled, and lo, the wild-wood was gone, and a white light empty of all vision was before him, and as he moved his head this became the Wolfing meadow, as he had known it so long, and thereat a soft pleasure and joy took hold of him, till again he looked, and saw there no longer the kine and sheep, and the herd-women tending them, but the rush and turmoil of that fierce battle, the confused thundering noise of which was going up to the heavens; for indeed he was now fully awake again.

So he stood up and looked about; and around him was a ring of the sorrowful faces of the warriors, who had deemed that he was hurt deadly, though no hurt could they find upon him. But the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk lay upon the ground beside him; for they had taken it off him to look for his hurts.

So he looked into their faces and said: “What aileth you, ye men? I am alive and unhurt; what hath betided?”

And one said: “Art thou verily alive, or a man come back from the dead? We saw thee fall as thou wentest leading us against the foe as if thou hadst been smitten by a thunder-bolt, and we deemed thee dead or grievously hurt. Now the carles are fighting stoutly, and all is well since thou livest yet.”

So he said: “Give me the point and edges that I know, that I may smite myself therewith and not the foemen; for I have feared and blenched from the battle.”

Said an old warrior: “If that be so, Thiodolf, wilt thou blench twice? Is not once enough? Now let us go back to the hard handplay, and if thou wilt, smite thyself after the battle, when we have once more had a man’s help of thee.”

Therewith he held out Throng-plough to him by the point, and Thiodolf took hold of the hilts and handled it and said: “Let us hasten, while the Gods will have it so, and while they are still suffering me to strike a stroke for the kindred.”

And therewith he brandished Throng-plough, and went forth toward the battle, and the heart grew hot within him, and the joy of waking life came back to him, the joy which but erewhile he had given to a mere dream.

But the old man who had rebuked him stooped down and lifted the Hauberk from the ground, and cried out after him, “O Thiodolf, and wilt thou go naked into so strong a fight? and thou with this so goodly sword-rampart?”

Thiodolf stayed a moment, and even therewith they looked, and lo! the Romans giving back before the Goths and the Goths following up the chase, but slowly and steadily. Then Thiodolf heeded nothing save the battle, but ran forward hastily, and those warriors followed him, the old man last of all holding the Hauberk in his hand, and muttering:

“So fares hot blood to the glooming and the world beneath the grass;
And the fruit of the Wolfings’ orchard in a flash from the world must pass.
Men say that the tree shall blossom in the garden of the folk,
And the new twig thrust him forward from the place where the old one broke,
And all be well as aforetime: but old and old I grow,
And I doubt me if such another the folk to come shall know.”

And he still hurried forward as fast as his old body might go, so that he might wrap the safeguard of the Hauberk round Thiodolf’s body.

CHAPTER XXIV—THE GOTHS ARE OVERTHROWN BY THE ROMANS

Now rose up a mighty shout when Thiodolf came back to the battle of the kindreds, for many thought he had been slain; and they gathered round about him, and cried out to him joyously out of their hearts of good-fellowship, and the old man who had rebuked Thiodolf, and who was Jorund of the Wolfings, came up to him and reached out to him the Hauberk, and he did it on scarce heeding; for all his heart and soul was turned toward the battle of the Romans and what they were a-doing; and he saw that they were falling back in good order, as men out-numbered, but undismayed. So he gathered all his men together and ordered them afresh; for they were somewhat disarrayed with the fray and the chase: and now he no longer ordered them in the wedge array, but in a line here three deep, here five deep, or more, for the foes were hard at hand, and outnumbered, and so far overcome, that he and all men deemed it a little matter to give these their last overthrow, and then onward to Wolf-stead to storm on what was left there and purge the house of the foemen. Howbeit Thiodolf bethought him that succour might come to the Romans from their main-battle, as they needed not many men there, since there was nought to fear behind them: but the thought was dim within him, for once more since he had gotten the Hauberk on him the earth was wavering and dream-like: he looked about him, and nowise was he as in past days of battle when he saw nought but the foe before him, and hoped for nothing save the victory. But now indeed the Wood-Sun seemed to him to be beside him, and not against his will, as one besetting and hindering him, but as though his own longing had drawn her thither and would not let her depart; and whiles it seemed to him that her beauty was clearer to be seen than the bodies of the warriors round about him. For the rest he seemed to be in a dream indeed, and, as men do in dreams, to be for ever striving to be doing something of more moment than anything which he did, but which he must ever leave undone. And as the dream gathered and thickened about him the foe before him changed to his eyes, and seemed no longer the stern brown-skinned smooth-faced men under their crested iron helms with their iron-covered shields before them, but rather, big-headed men, small of stature, long-bearded, swart, crooked of body, exceeding foul of aspect. And he looked on and did nothing for a while, and his head whirled as though he had been grievously smitten.

Thus tarried the kindreds awhile, and they were bewildered and their hearts fell because Thiodolf did not fly on the foemen like a falcon on the quarry, as his wont was. But as for the Romans, they had now stayed, and were facing their foes again, and that on a vantage-ground, since the field sloped up toward the Wolfing dwelling; and they gathered heart when they saw that the Goths tarried and forbore them. But the sun was sinking, and the evening was hard at hand.

So at last Thiodolf led forward with Throng-plough held aloft in his right hand; but his left hand he held out by his side, as though he were leading someone along. And as he went, he muttered: “When will these accursed sons of the nether earth leave the way clear to us, that we may be alone and take pleasure each in each amidst of the flowers and the sun?”

Now as the two hosts drew near to one another, again came the sound of trumpets afar off, and men knew that this would be succour coming to the Romans from their main-battle, and the Romans thereon shouted for joy, and the host of the kindreds might no longer forbear, but rushed on fiercely against them; and for Thiodolf it was now come to this, that so entangled was he in his dream that he rather went with his men than led them. Yet had he Throng-plough in his right hand, and he muttered in his beard as he went, “Smite before! smite behind! and smite on the right hand! but never on the left!”

Thus then they met, and as before, neither might the Goths sweep the Romans away, nor the Romans break the Goths into flight; yet were many of the kindred anxious and troubled, since they knew that aid was coming to the Romans, and they heard the trumpets sounding nearer and more joyous; and at last, as the men of the kindreds were growing a-wearied with fighting, they heard those horns as it were in their very ears, and the thunder of the tramp of footmen, and they knew that a fresh host of men was upon them; then those they had been fighting with opened before them, falling aside to the right and the left, and the fresh men passing between them, fell on the Goths like the waters of a river when a sluice-gate is opened. They came on in very good order, never breaking their ranks, but swift withal, smiting and pushing before them, and so brake through the array of the Goth-folk, and drave them this way and that way down the slopes.

Yet still fought the warriors of the kindred most valiantly, making stand and facing the foe again and again in knots of a score or two score, or maybe ten score; and though many a man was slain, yet scarce any one before he had slain or hurt a Roman; and some there were, and they the oldest, who fought as if they and the few about them were all the host that was left to the folk, and heeded not that others were driven back, or that the Romans gathered about them, cutting them off from all succour and aid, but went on smiting till they were felled with many strokes.

Howbeit the array of the Goths was broken and many were slain, and perforce they must give back, and it seemed as if they would be driven into the river and all be lost.

But for Thiodolf, this befell him: that at first, when those fresh men fell on, he seemed, as it were, to wake unto himself again, and he cried aloud the cry of the Wolf, and thrust into the thickest of the fray, and slew many and was hurt of none, and for a moment of time there was an empty space round about him, such fear he cast even into the valiant hearts of the foemen. But those who had time to see him as they stood by him noted that he was as pale as a dead man, and his eyes set and staring; and so of a sudden, while he stood thus threatening the ring of doubtful foemen, the weakness took him again, Throng-plough tumbled from his hand, and he fell to earth as one dead.

Then of those who saw him some deemed that he had been striving against some secret hurt till he could do no more; and some that there was a curse abroad that had fallen upon him and upon all the kindreds of the Mark; some thought him dead and some swooning. But, dead or alive, the warriors would not leave their War-duke among the foemen, so they lifted him, and gathered about him a goodly band that held its own against all comers, and fought through the turmoil stoutly and steadily; and others gathered to them, till they began to be something like a host again, and the Romans might not break them into knots of desperate men any more.

Thus they fought their way, Arinbiorn of the Bearings leading them now, with a mind to make a stand for life or death on some vantage-ground; and so, often turning upon the Romans, they came in array ever growing more solid to the rising ground looking one way over the ford and the other to the slopes where the battle had just been. There they faced the foe as men who may be slain, but will be driven no further; and what bowmen they had got spread out from their flanks and shot on the Romans, who had with them no light-armed, or slingers or bowmen, for they had left them at Wolf-stead. So the Romans stood a while, and gave breathing-space to the Markmen, which indeed was the saving of them: for if they had fallen on hotly and held to it steadily, it is like that they would have passed over all the bodies of the Markmen: for these had lost their leader, either slain, as some thought, or, as others thought, banned from leadership by the Gods; and their host was heavy-hearted; and though it is like that they would have stood there till each had fallen over other, yet was their hope grown dim, and the whole folk brought to a perilous and fearful pass, for if these were slain or scattered there were no more but they, and nought between fire and the sword and the people of the Mark.

But once again the faint-heart folly of the Roman Captain saved his foes: for whereas he once thought that the whole power of the Markmen lay in Otter and his company, and deemed them too little to meddle with, so now he ran his head into the other hedge, and deemed that Thiodolf’s company was but a part of the succour that was at hand for the Goths, and that they were over-big for him to meddle with.

True it is also that now dark night was coming on, and the land was unknown to the Romans, who moreover trusted not wholly to the dastards of the Goths who were their guides and scouts: furthermore the wood was at hand, and they knew not what it held; and with all this and above it all, it is to be said that over them also had fallen a dread of some doom anear; for those habitations amidst of the wild-woods were terrible to them as they were dear to the Goths; and the Gods of their foemen seemed to be lying in wait to fall upon them, even if they should slay every man of the kindreds.

So now having driven back the Goths to that height over the ford, which indeed was no stronghold, no mountain, scarce a hill even, nought but a gentle swelling of the earth, they forebore them; and raising up the whoop of victory drew slowly aback, picking up their own dead and wounded, and slaying the wounded Markmen. They had with them also some few captives, but not many; for the fighting had been to the death between man and man on the Wolfing Meadow.

CHAPTER XXV—THE HOST OF THE MARKMEN COMETH INTO THE WILD-WOOD

Yet though the Romans were gone, the Goth-folk were very hard bested. They had been overthrown, not sorely maybe if they had been in an alien land, and free to come and go as they would; yet sorely as things were, because the foeman was sitting in their own House, and they must needs drag him out of it or perish: and to many the days seemed evil, and the Gods fighting against them, and both the Wolfings and the other kindreds bethought them of the Hall-Sun and her wisdom and longed to hear of tidings concerning her.

But now the word ran through the host that Thiodolf was certainly not slain. Slowly he had come to himself, and yet was not himself, for he sat among his men gloomy and silent, clean contrary to his wont; for hitherto he had been a merry man, and a joyous fellow.

Amidst of the ridge whereon the Markmen now abode, there was a ring made of the chief warriors and captains and wise men who had not been slain or grievously hurt in the fray, and amidst them all sat Thiodolf on the ground, his chin sunken on his breast, looking more like a captive than the leader of a host amidst of his men; and that the more as his scabbard was empty; for when Throng-plough had fallen from his hand, it had been trodden under foot, and lost in the turmoil. There he sat, and the others in that ring of men looked sadly upon him; such as Arinbiorn of the Bearings, and Wolfkettle and Thorolf of his own House, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and Geirbald the Shielding, the messenger of the woods, and Fox who had seen the Roman Garth, and many others. It was night now, and men had lighted fires about the host, for they said that the Romans knew where to find them if they listed to seek; and about those fires were men eating and drinking what they might come at, but amidmost of that ring was the biggest fire, and men turned them towards it for counsel and help, for elsewhere none said, “What do we?” for they were heavy-hearted and redeless, since the Gods had taken the victory out of their hands just when they seemed at point to win it.

But amidst all this there was a little stir outside that biggest ring, and men parted, and through them came a swain amongst the chiefs, and said, “Who will lead me to the War-duke?”

Thiodolf, who was close beside the lad, answered never a word; but Arinbiorn said; “This man here sitting is the War-duke: speak to him, for he may hearken to thee: but first who art thou?”

Said the lad; “My name is Ali the son of Grey, and I come with a message from the Hall-Sun and the stay-at-homes who are in the Woodland.”

Now when he named the Hall-Sun Thiodolf started and looked up, and turning to his left-hand said, “And what sayeth thy daughter?”

Men did not heed that he said thy daughter, but deemed that he said my daughter, since he was wont as her would-be foster-father to call her so. But Ali spake:

“War-duke and ye chieftains, thus saith the Hall-Sun: ‘I know that by this time Otter hath been slain and many another, and ye have been overthrown and chased by the Romans, and that now there is little counsel in you except to abide the foe where ye are and there to die valiantly. But now do my bidding and as I am bidden, and then whosoever dieth or liveth, the kindreds shall vanquish that they may live and grow greater. Do ye thus: the Romans think no otherwise but to find you here to-morrow or else departed across the water as broken men, and they will fall upon you with their whole host, and then make a war-garth after their manner at Wolf-stead and carry fire and the sword and the chains of thralldom into every House of the Mark. Now therefore fetch a compass and come into the wood on the north-west of the houses and make your way to the Thing-stead of the Mid-mark. For who knoweth but that to-morrow we may fall upon these thieves again? Of this shall ye hear more when we may speak together and take counsel face to face; for we stay-at-homes know somewhat closely of the ways of these Romans. Haste then! let not the grass grow over your feet!

“‘But to thee, Thiodolf, have I a word to say when we meet; for I wot that as now thou canst not hearken to my word.’ Thus saith the Hall-Sun.”

“Wilt thou speak, War-duke?” said Arinbiorn. But Thiodolf shook his head. Then said Arinbiorn; “Shall I speak for thee?” and Thiodolf nodded yea. Then said Arinbiorn: “Ali son of Grey, art thou going back to her that sent thee?”

“Yea,” said the lad, “but in your company, for ye will be coming straightway and I know all the ways closely; and there is need for a guide through the dark night as ye will see presently.”

Then stood up Arinbiorn and said: “Chiefs and captains, go ye speedily and array your men for departure: bid them leave all the fires burning and come their ways as silently as maybe; for now will we wend this same hour before moonrise into the Wild-wood and the Thing-stead of Mid-mark; thus saith the War-duke.”

But when they were gone, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf were left alone, Thiodolf lifted up his head and spake slowly and painfully:

“Arinbiorn, I thank thee: and thou dost well to lead this folk: since as for me that is somewhat that weighs me down, and I know not whether it be life or death; therefore I may no longer be your captain, for twice now have I blenched from the battle. Yet command me, and I will obey, set a sword in my hand and I will smite, till the God snatches it out of my hand, as he did Throng-plough to-day.”

“And that is well,” said Arinbiorn, “it may be that ye shall meet that God to-morrow, and heave up sword against him, and either overcome him or go to thy fathers a proud and valiant man.”

So they spake, and Thiodolf stood up and seemed of better cheer. But presently the whole host was afoot, and they went their ways warily with little noise, and wound little by little about the Wolfing meadow and about the acres towards the wood at the back of the Houses; and they met nothing by the way except an out-guard of the Romans, whom they slew there nigh silently, and bore away their bodies, twelve in number, lest the Romans when they sent to change the guard, should find the slain and have an inkling of the way the Goths were gone; but now they deemed that the Romans might think their guard fled, or perchance that they had been carried away by the Gods of the woodland folk.

So came they into the wood, and Arinbiorn and the chiefs were for striking the All-men’s road to the Thing-stead and so coming thither; but the lad Ali when he heard it laughed and said:

“If ye would sleep to-night ye shall wend another way. For the Hall-Sun hath had us at work cumbering it against the foe with great trees felled with limbs, branches, and all. And indeed ye shall find the Thing-stead fenced like a castle, and the in-gate hard to find; yet will I bring you thither.”

So did he without delay, and presently they came anigh the Thing-stead; and the place was fenced cunningly, so that if men would enter they must go by a narrow way that had a fence of tree-trunks on each side wending inward like the maze in a pleasance. Thereby now wended the host all afoot, since it was a holy place and no beast must set foot therein, so that the horses were left without it: so slowly and right quietly once more they came into the garth of the Thing-stead; and lo, a many folk there, of the Wolfings and the Bearings and other kindreds, who had gathered thereto; and albeit these were not warriors in their prime, yet were there none save the young children and the weaker of the women but had weapons of some kind; and they were well ordered, standing or sitting in ranks like folk awaiting battle. There were booths of boughs and rushes set up for shelter of the feebler women and the old men and children along the edges of the fence, for the Hall-Sun had bidden them keep the space clear round about the Doom-ring and the Hill-of-Speech as if for a mighty folk-mote, so that the warriors might have room to muster there and order their array. There were some cooking-fires lighted about the aforesaid booths, but neither many nor great, and they were screened with wattle from the side that lay toward the Romans; for the Hall-Sun would not that they should hold up lanterns for their foemen to find them by. Little noise there was in that stronghold, moreover, for the hearts of all who knew their right hands from their left were set on battle and the destruction of the foe that would destroy the kindreds.

Anigh the Speech-Hill, on its eastern side, had the bole of a slender beech tree been set up, and at the top of it a cross-beam was nailed on, and therefrom hung the wondrous lamp, the Hall-Sun, glimmering from on high, and though its light was but a glimmer amongst the mighty wood, yet was it also screened on three sides from the sight of the chance wanderer by wings of thin plank. But beneath her namesake as beforetime in the Hall sat the Hall-Sun, the maiden, on a heap of faggots, and she was wrapped in a dark blue cloak from under which gleamed the folds of the fair golden-broidered gown she was wont to wear at folk-motes, and her right hand rested on a naked sword that lay across her knees: beside her sat the old man Sorli, the Wise in War, and about her were slim lads and sturdy maidens and old carles of the thralls or freedmen ready to bear the commands that came from her mouth; for she and Sorli were the captains of the stay-at-homes.

Now came Thiodolf and Arinbiorn and other leaders into the ring of men before her, and she greeted them kindly and said:

“Hail, Sons of Tyr! now that I behold you again it seemeth to me as if all were already won: the time of waiting hath been weary, and we have borne the burden of fear every day from morn till even, and in the waking hour we presently remembered it. But now ye are come, even if this Thing-stead were lighted by the flames of the Wolfing Roof instead of by these moonbeams; even if we had to begin again and seek new dwellings, and another water and other meadows, yet great should grow the kindreds of the Men who have dwelt in the Mark, and nought should overshadow them: and though the beasts and the Romans were dwelling in their old places, yet should these kindreds make new clearings in the Wild-wood; and they with their deeds should cause other waters to be famous, that as yet have known no deeds of man; and they should compel the Earth to bear increase round about their dwelling-places for the welfare of the kindreds. O Sons of Tyr, friendly are your faces, and undismayed, and the Terror of the Nations has not made you afraid any more than would the onrush of the bisons that feed adown the grass hills. Happy is the eve, O children of the Goths, yet shall to-morrow morn be happier.”

Many heard what she spake, and a murmur of joy ran through the ranks of men: for they deemed her words to forecast victory.

And now amidst her speaking, the moon, which had arisen on Mid-mark, when the host first entered into the wood, had overtopped the tall trees that stood like a green wall round about the Thing-stead, and shone down on that assembly, and flashed coldly back from the arms of the warriors. And the Hall-Sun cast off her dark blue cloak and stood up in her golden-broidered raiment, which flashed back the grey light like as it had been an icicle hanging from the roof of some hall in the midnight of Yule, when the feast is high within, and without the world is silent with the night of the ten-weeks’ frost.

Then she spake again: “O War-duke, thy mouth is silent; speak to this warrior of the Bearings that he bid the host what to do; for wise are ye both, and dear are the minutes of this night and should not be wasted; since they bring about the salvation of the Wolfings, and the vengeance of the Bearings, and the hope renewed of all the kindreds.”

Then Thiodolf abode a while with his head down cast; his bosom heaved, and he set his left hand to his swordless scabbard, and his right to his throat, as though he were sore troubled with something he might not tell of: but at last he lifted up his head and spoke to Arinbiorn, but slowly and painfully, as he had spoken before:

“Chief of the Bearings, go up on to the Hill of Speech, and speak to the folk out of thy wisdom, and let them know that to-morrow early before the sun-rising those that may, and are not bound by the Gods against it, shall do deeds according to their might, and win rest for themselves, and new days of deeds for the kindreds.”

Therewith he ceased, and let his head fall again, and the Hall-Sun looked at him askance. But Arinbiorn clomb the Speech-Hill and said:

“Men of the kindreds, it is now a few days since we first met the Romans and fought with them; and whiles we have had the better, and whiles the worse in our dealings, as oft in war befalleth: for they are men, and we no less than men. But now look to it what ye will do; for we may no longer endure these outlanders in our houses, and we must either die or get our own again: and that is not merely a few wares stored up for use, nor a few head of neat, nor certain timbers piled up into a dwelling, but the life we have made in the land we have made. I show you no choice, for no choice there is. Here are we bare of everything in the wild-wood: for the most part our children are crying for us at home, our wives are longing for us in our houses, and if we come not to them in kindness, the Romans shall come to them in grimness. Down yonder in the plain, moreover, is our wain-burg slowly drawing near to us, and with it is much livelihood of ours, which is a little thing, for we may get more; but also there are our banners of battle and the tokens of the kindred, which is a great thing. And between all this and us there lieth but little; nought but a band of valiant men, and a few swords and spears, and a few wounds, and the hope of death amidst the praise of the people; and this ye have to set out to wend across within two or three hours. I will not ask if ye will do so, for I wot that even so ye will; therefore when I have done, shout not, nor clash sword on shield, for we are no great way off that house of ours wherein dwells the foe that would destroy us. Let each man rest as he may, and sleep if he may with his war-gear on him and his weapons by his side, and when he is next awakened by the captains and the leaders of hundreds and scores, let him not think that it is night, but let him betake himself to his place among his kindred and be ready to go through the wood with as little noise as may be. Now all is said that the War-duke would have me say, and to-morrow shall those see him who are foremost in falling upon the foemen, for he longeth sorely for his seat on the days of the Wolfing Hall.”

So he spake, and even as he bade them, they made no sound save a joyous murmur; and straightway the more part of them betook themselves to sleep as men who must busy themselves about a weighty matter; for they were wise in the ways of war. So sank all the host to the ground save those who were appointed as watchers of the night, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun; they three yet stood together; and Arinbiorn said:

“Now it seems to me not so much as if we had vanquished the foe and were safe and at rest, but rather as if we had no foemen and never have had. Deep peace is on me, though hitherto I have been deemed a wrathful man, and it is to me as if the kindreds that I love had filled the whole earth, and left no room for foemen: even so it may really be one day. To-night it is well, yet to-morrow it shall be better. What thine errand may be, Thiodolf, I scarce know; for something hath changed in thee, and thou art become strange to us. But as for mine errand, I will tell it thee; it is that I am seeking Otter of the Laxings, my friend and fellow, whose wisdom my foolishness drave under the point and edge of the Romans, so that he is no longer here; I am seeking him, and to-morrow I think I shall find him, for he hath not had time to travel far, and we shall be blithe and merry together. And now will I sleep; for I have bidden the watchers awaken me if any need be. Sleep thou also, Thiodolf! and wake up thine old self when the moon is low.” Therewith he laid himself down under the lee of the pile of faggots, and was presently asleep.

CHAPTER XXVI—THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN

Now were Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun left alone together standing by the Speech-Hill; and the moon was risen high in the heavens above the tree-tops of the wild-wood. Thiodolf scarce stirred, and he still held his head bent down as one lost in thought.

Then said the Hall-Sun, speaking softly amidst the hush of the camp:

“I have said that the minutes of this night are dear, and they are passing swiftly; and it may be that thou wilt have much to say and to do before the host is astir with the dawning. So come thou with me a little way, that thou mayst hear of new tidings, and think what were best to do amidst them.”

And without more ado she took him by the hand and led him forth, and he went as he was led, not saying a word. They passed out of the camp into the wood, none hindering, and went a long way where under the beech-leaves there was but a glimmer of the moonlight, and presently Thiodolf’s feet went as it were of themselves; for they had hit a path that he knew well and over-well.

So came they to that little wood-lawn where first in this tale Thiodolf met the Wood-Sun; and the stone seat there was not empty now any more than it was then; for thereon sat the Wood-Sun, clad once more in her glittering raiment. Her head was sunken down, her face hidden by her hands; neither did she look up when she heard their feet on the grass, for she knew who they were.

Thiodolf lingered not; for a moment it was to him as if all that past time had never been, and its battles and hurry and hopes and fears but mere shows, and the unspoken words of a dream. He went straight up to her and sat down by her side and put his arm about her shoulders, and strove to take her hand to caress it; but she moved but little, and it was as if she heeded him not. And the Hall-Sun stood before them and looked at them for a little while; and then she fell to speech; but at the first sound of her voice, it seemed that the Wood-Sun trembled, but still she hid her face. Said the Hall-Sun:

“Two griefs I see before me in mighty hearts grown great;
And to change both these into gladness out-goes the power of fate.
Yet I, a lonely maiden, have might to vanquish one
Till it melt as the mist of the morning before the summer sun.
O Wood-Sun, thou hast borne me, and I were fain indeed
To give thee back thy gladness; but thou com’st of the Godhead’s seed,
And herein my might avails not; because I can but show
Unto these wedded sorrows the truth that the heart should know
Ere the will hath wielded the hand; and for thee, I can tell thee nought
That thou hast not known this long while; thy will and thine hand have wrought,
And the man that thou lovest shall live in despite of Gods and of men,
If yet thy will endureth. But what shall it profit thee then
That after the fashion of Godhead thou hast gotten thee a thrall
To be thine and never another’s, whatso in the world may befall?
Lo! yesterday this was a man, and to-morrow it might have been
The very joy of the people, though never again it were seen;
Yet a part of all they hoped for through all the lapse of years,
To make their laughter happy and dull the sting of tears;
To quicken all remembrance of deeds that never die,
And death that maketh eager to live as the days go by.
Yea, many a deed had he done as he lay in the dark of the mound;
As the seed-wheat plotteth of spring, laid under the face of the ground
That the foot of the husbandman treadeth, that the wind of the winter wears,
That the turbid cold flood hideth from the constant hope of the years.
This man that should leave in his death his life unto many an one
Wilt thou make him a God of the fearful who live lone under the sun?
And then shalt thou have what thou wouldedst when amidst of the hazelled field
Thou kissed’st the mouth of the helper, and the hand of the people’s shield,
Shalt thou have the thing that thou wouldedst when thou broughtest me to birth,
And I, the soul of the Wolfings, began to look on earth?
Wilt thou play the God, O mother, and make a man anew,
A joyless thing and a fearful? Then I betwixt you two,
’Twixt your longing and your sorrow will cast the sundering word,
And tell out all the story of that rampart of the sword!
I shall bid my mighty father make choice of death in life,
Or life in death victorious and the crownèd end of strife.”

Ere she had ended, the Wood-Sun let her hands fall down, and showed her face, which for all its unpaled beauty looked wearied and anxious; and she took Thiodolf’s hand in hers, while she looked with eyes of love upon the Hall-Sun, and Thiodolf laid his cheek to her cheek, and though he smiled not, yet he seemed as one who is happy. At last the Wood-Sun spoke and said:

“Thou sayest sooth, O daughter: I am no God of might,
Yet I am of their race, and I think with their thoughts and see with their sight,
And the threat of the doom did I know of, and yet spared not to lie:
For I thought that the fate foreboded might touch and pass us by,
As the sword that heweth the war-helm and cleaveth a cantle away,
And the cunning smith shall mend it and it goeth again to the fray;
If my hand might have held for a moment, yea, even against his will,
The life of my belovèd! But Weird is the master still:
And this man’s love of my body and his love of the ancient kin
Were matters o’er mighty to deal with and the game withal to win.
Woe’s me for the waning of all things, and my hope that needs must fade
As the fruitless sun of summer on the waste where nought is made!
And now farewell, O daughter, thou mayst not see the kiss
Of the hapless and the death-doomed when I have told of this;
Yet once again shalt thou see him, though I no more again,
Fair with the joy that hopeth and dieth not in vain.”

Then came the Hall-Sun close to her, and knelt down by her, and laid her head upon her knees and wept for love of her mother, who kissed her oft and caressed her; and Thiodolf’s hand strayed, as it were, on to his daughter’s head, and he looked kindly on her, though scarce now as if he knew her. Then she arose when she had kissed her mother once more, and went her ways from that wood-lawn into the woods again, and so to the Folk-mote of her people.

But when those twain were all alone again, the Wood-Sun spoke: “O Thiodolf canst thou hear me and understand?”

“Yea,” he said, “when thou speakest of certain matters, as of our love together, and of our daughter that came of our love.”

“Thiodolf,” she said, “How long shall our love last?”

“As long as our life,” he said.

“And if thou diest to-day, where then shall our love be?” said the Wood-Sun.

He said, “I must now say, I wot not; though time was I had said, It shall abide with the soul of the Wolfing Kindred.”

She said: “And when that soul dieth, and the kindred is no more?”

“Time agone,” quoth he, “I had said, it shall abide with the Kindreds of the Earth; but now again I say, I wot not.”

“Will the Earth hide it,” said she, “when thou diest and art borne to mound?”

“Even so didst thou say when we spake together that other night,” said he; “and now I may say nought against thy word.”

“Art thou happy, O Folk-Wolf?” she said.

“Why dost thou ask me?” said he; “I know not; we were sundered and I longed for thee; thou art here; it is enough.”

“And the people of thy Kindred?” she said, “dost thou not long for them?”

He said; “Didst thou not say that I was not of them? Yet were they my friends, and needed me, and I loved them: but by this evening they will need me no more, or but little; for they will be victorious over their foes: so hath the Hall-Sun foretold. What then! shall I take all from thee to give little to them?”

“Thou art wise,” she said; “Wilt thou go to battle to-day?”

“So it seemeth,” said he.

She said: “And wilt thou bear the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk? for if thou dost, thou wilt live, and if thou dost not, thou wilt die.”

“I will bear it,” said he, “that I may live to love thee.”

“Thinkest thou that any evil goes with it?” said she.

There came into his face a flash of his ancient boldness as he answered: “So it seemed to me yesterday, when I fought clad in it the first time; and I fell unsmitten on the meadow, and was shamed, and would have slain myself but for thee. And yet it is not so that any evil goes with it; for thou thyself didst say that past night that there was no evil weird in it.”

She said: “How then if I lied that night?”

Said he; “It is the wont of the Gods to lie, and be unashamed, and men-folk must bear with it.”

“Ah! how wise thou art!” she said; and was silent for a while, and drew away from him a little, and clasped her hands together and wrung them for grief and anger. Then she grew calm again, and said:

“Wouldest thou die at my bidding?”

“Yea,” said he, “not because thou art of the Gods, but because thou hast become a woman to me, and I love thee.”

Then was she silent some while, and at last she said, “Thiodolf, wilt thou do off the Hauberk if I bid thee?”

“Yea, yea,” said he, “and let us depart from the Wolfings, and their strife, for they need us not.”

She was silent once more for a longer while still, and at last she said in a cold voice; “Thiodolf, I bid thee arise, and put off the Hauberk from thee.”

He looked at her wondering, not at her words, but at the voice wherewith she spake them; but he arose from the stone nevertheless, and stood stark in the moonlight; he set his hand to the collar of the war-coat, and undid its clasps, which were of gold and blue stones, and presently he did the coat from off him and let it slide to the ground where it lay in a little grey heap that looked but a handful. Then he sat down on the stone again, and took her hand and kissed her and caressed her fondly, and she him again, and they spake no word for a while: but at the last he spake in measure and rhyme in a low voice, but so sweet and clear that it might have been heard far in the hush of the last hour of the night:

“Dear now are this dawn-dusk’s moments as is the last of the light
When the foemen’s ranks are wavering, and the victory feareth night;
And of all the time I have loved thee of these am I most fain,
When I know not what shall betide me, nor what shall be my gain.
But dear as they are, they are waning, and at last the time is come
When no more shall I behold thee till I wend to Odin’s Home.
Now is the time so little that once hath been so long
That I fain would ask thee pardon wherein I have done thee wrong,
That thy longing might be softer, and thy love more sweet to have.
But in nothing have I wronged thee, there is nought that I may crave.
Strange too! as the minutes fail me, so do my speech-words fail,
Yet strong is the joy within me for this hour that crowns the tale.”

Therewith he clipped her and caressed her, and she spake nothing for a while; and he said; “Thy face is fair and bright; art thou not joyous of these minutes?”

She said: “Thy words are sweet; but they pierce my heart like a sharp knife; for they tell me of thy death and the ending of our love.”

Said he; “I tell thee nothing, beloved, that thou hast not known: is it not for this that we have met here once more?”

She answered after a while; “Yea, yea; yet mightest thou have lived.”

He laughed, but not scornfully or bitterly and said:

“So thought I in time past: but hearken, beloved; If I fall to-day, shall there not yet be a minute after the stroke hath fallen on me, wherein I shall know that the day is won and see the foemen fleeing, and wherein I shall once again deem I shall never die, whatever may betide afterwards, and though the sword lieth deep in my breast? And shall I not see then and know that our love hath no end?”

Bitter grief was in her face as she heard him. But she spake and said: “Lo here the Hauberk which thou hast done off thee, that thy breast might be the nearer to mine! Wilt thou not wear it in the fight for my sake?”

He knit his brows somewhat, and said:

“Nay, it may not be: true it is that thou saidest that no evil weird went with it, but hearken! Yesterday I bore it in the fight, and ere I mingled with the foe, before I might give the token of onset, a cloud came before my eyes and thick darkness wrapped me around, and I fell to the earth unsmitten; and so was I borne out of the fight, and evil dreams beset me of evil things, and the dwarfs that hate mankind. Then I came to myself, and the Hauberk was off me, and I rose up and beheld the battle, that the kindreds were pressing on the foe, and I thought not then of any past time, but of the minutes that were passing; and I ran into the fight straightway: but one followed me with that Hauberk, and I did it on, thinking of nought but the battle. Fierce then was the fray, yet I faltered in it; till the fresh men of the Romans came in upon us and broke up our array. Then my heart almost broke within me, and I faltered no more, but rushed on as of old, and smote great strokes all round about: no hurt I got, but once more came that ugly mist over my eyes, and again I fell unsmitten, and they bore me out of battle: then the men of our folk gave back and were overcome; and when I awoke from my evil dreams, we had gotten away from the fight and the Wolfing dwellings, and were on the mounds above the ford cowering down like beaten men. There then I sat shamed among the men who had chosen me for their best man at the Holy Thing, and lo I was their worst! Then befell that which never till then had befallen me, that life seemed empty and worthless and I longed to die and be done with it, and but for the thought of thy love I had slain myself then and there.

“Thereafter I went with the host to the assembly of the stay-at-homes and fleers, and sat before the Hall-Sun our daughter, and said the words which were put into my mouth. But now must I tell thee a hard and evil thing; that I loved them not, and was not of them, and outside myself there was nothing: within me was the world and nought without me. Nay, as for thee, I was not sundered from thee, but thou wert a part of me; whereas for the others, yea, even for our daughter, thine and mine, they were but images and shows of men, and I longed to depart from them, and to see thy body and to feel thine heart beating. And by then so evil was I grown that my very shame had fallen from me, and my will to die: nay, I longed to live, thou and I, and death seemed hateful to me, and the deeds before death vain and foolish.

“Where then was my glory and my happy life, and the hope of the days fresh born every day, though never dying? Where then was life, and Thiodolf that once had lived?

“But now all is changed once more; I loved thee never so well as now, and great is my grief that we must sunder, and the pain of farewell wrings my heart. Yet since I am once more Thiodolf the Mighty, in my heart there is room for joy also. Look at me, O Wood-Sun, look at me, O beloved! tell me, am I not fair with the fairness of the warrior and the helper of the folk? Is not my voice kind, do not my lips smile, and mine eyes shine? See how steady is mine hand, the friend of the folk! For mine eyes are cleared again, and I can see the kindreds as they are, and their desire of life and scorn of death, and this is what they have made me myself. Now therefore shall they and I together earn the merry days to come, the winter hunting and the spring sowing, the summer haysel, the ingathering of harvest, the happy rest of midwinter, and Yuletide with the memory of the Fathers, wedded to the hope of the days to be. Well may they bid me help them who have holpen me! Well may they bid me die who have made me live!

“For whereas thou sayest that I am not of their blood, nor of their adoption, once more I heed it not. For I have lived with them, and eaten and drunken with them, and toiled with them, and led them in battle and the place of wounds and slaughter; they are mine and I am theirs; and through them am I of the whole earth, and all the kindreds of it; yea, even of the foemen, whom this day the edges in mine hand shall smite.

“Therefore I will bear the Hauberk no more in battle; and belike my body but once more: so shall I have lived and death shall not have undone me.

“Lo thou, is not this the Thiodolf whom thou hast loved? no changeling of the Gods, but the man in whom men have trusted, the friend of Earth, the giver of life, the vanquisher of death?”

And he cast himself upon her, and strained her to his bosom and kissed her, and caressed her, and awoke the bitter-sweet joy within her, as he cried out:

“O remember this, and this, when at last I am gone from thee!”

But when they sundered her face was bright, but the tears were on it, and she said: “O Thiodolf, thou wert fain hadst thou done a wrong to me so that I might forgive thee; now wilt thou forgive me the wrong I have done thee?”

“Yea,” he said, “Even so would I do, were we both to live, and how much more if this be the dawn of our sundering day! What hast thou done?”

She said: “I lied to thee concerning the Hauberk when I said that no evil weird went with it: and this I did for the saving of thy life.”

He laid his hand fondly on her head, and spake smiling: “Such is the wont of the God-kin, because they know not the hearts of men. Tell me all the truth of it now at last.”

She said:

“Hear then the tale of the Hauberk and the truth there is to tell:
There was a maid of the God-kin, and she loved a man right well,
Who unto the battle was wending; and she of her wisdom knew
That thence to the folk-hall threshold should come back but a very few;
And she feared for her love, for she doubted that of these he should not be;
So she wended the wilds lamenting, as I have lamented for thee;
And many wise she pondered, how to bring her will to pass
(E’en as I for thee have pondered), as her feet led over the grass,
Till she lifted her eyes in the wild-wood, and lo! she stood before
The Hall of the Hollow-places; and the Dwarf-lord stood in the door
And held in his hand the Hauberk, whereon the hammer’s blow
The last of all had been smitten, and the sword should be hammer now.
Then the Dwarf beheld her fairness, and the wild-wood many-leaved
Before his eyes was reeling at the hope his heart conceived;
So sorely he longed for her body; and he laughed before her and cried,
‘O Lady of the Disir, thou farest wandering wide
Lamenting thy belovèd and the folk-mote of the spear,
But if amidst of the battle this child of the hammer he bear
He shall laugh at the foemen’s edges and come back to thy lily breast
And of all the days of his life-time shall his coming years be best.’
Then she bowed adown her godhead and sore for the Hauberk she prayed;
But his greedy eyes devoured her as he stood in the door and said;
‘Come lie in mine arms! Come hither, and we twain the night to wake!
And then as a gift of the morning the Hauberk shall ye take.’
So she humbled herself before him, and entered into the cave,
The dusky, the deep-gleaming, the gem-strewn golden grave.
But he saw not her girdle loosened, or her bosom gleam on his love,
For she set the sleep-thorn in him, that he saw, but might not move,
Though the bitter salt tears burned him for the anguish of his greed;
And she took the hammer’s offspring, her unearned morning meed,
And went her ways from the rock-hall and was glad for her warrior’s sake.
But behind her dull speech followed, and the voice of the hollow spake:
‘Thou hast left me bound in anguish, and hast gained thine heart’s desire;
Now I would that the dewy night-grass might be to thy feet as the fire,
And shrivel thy raiment about thee, and leave thee bare to the flame,
And no way but a fiery furnace for the road whereby ye came!
But since the folk of God-home we may not slay nor smite,
And that fool of the folk that thou lovest, thou hast saved in my despite,
Take with thee, thief of God-home, this other word I say:
Since the safeguard wrought in the ring-mail I may not do away
I lay this curse upon it, that whoso weareth the same,
Shall save his life in the battle, and have the battle’s shame;
He shall live through wrack and ruin, and ever have the worse,
And drag adown his kindred, and bear the people’s curse.’

“Lo, this the tale of the Hauberk, and I knew it for the truth:
And little I thought of the kindreds; of their day I had no ruth;
For I said, They are doomed to departure; in a little while must they wane,
And nought it helpeth or hindreth if I hold my hand or refrain.
Yea, thou wert become the kindred, both thine and mine; and thy birth
To me was the roofing of heaven, and the building up of earth.
I have loved, and I must sorrow; thou hast lived, and thou must die;
Ah, wherefore were there others in the world than thou and I?”

He turned round to her and clasped her strongly in his arms again, and kissed her many times and said:

“Lo, here art thou forgiven; and here I say farewell!
Here the token of my wonder which my words may never tell;
The wonder past all thinking, that my love and thine should blend;
That thus our lives should mingle, and sunder in the end!
Lo, this, for the last remembrance of the mighty man I was,
Of thy love and thy forbearing, and all that came to pass!
Night wanes, and heaven dights her for the kiss of sun and earth;
Look up, look last upon me on this morn of the kindreds’ mirth!”

Therewith he arose and lingered no minute longer, but departed, going as straight towards the Thing-stead and the Folk-mote of his kindred as the swallow goes to her nest in the hall-porch. He looked not once behind him, though a bitter wailing rang through the woods and filled his heart with the bitterness of her woe and the anguish of the hour of sundering.

CHAPTER XXVII—THEY WEND TO THE MORNING BATTLE

Now when Thiodolf came back to the camp the signs of dawn were plain in the sky, the moon was low and sinking behind the trees, and he saw at once that the men were stirring and getting ready for departure. He looked gladly and blithely at the men he fell in with, and they at him, and scarce could they refrain a shout when they beheld his face and the brightness of it. He went straight up to where the Hall-Sun was yet sitting under her namesake, with Arinbiorn standing before her amidst of a ring of leaders of hundreds and scores: but old Sorli sat by her side clad in all his war-gear.

When Thiodolf first came into that ring of men they looked doubtfully at him, as if they dreaded somewhat, but when they had well beheld him their faces cleared, and they became joyous.

He went straight up to Arinbiorn and kissed the old warrior, and said to him, “I give thee good morrow, O leader of the Bearings! Here now is come the War-duke! and meseems that we should get to work as speedily as may be, for lo the dawning!”

“Hail to thine hand, War-duke!” said Arinbiorn joyously; “there is no more to do but to take thy word concerning the order wherein we shall wend; for all men are armed and ready.”

Said Thiodolf; “Lo ye, I lack war-gear and weapons! Is there a good sword hereby, a helm, a byrny and a shield? For hard will be the battle, and we must fence ourselves all we may.”

“Hard by,” said Arinbiorn, “is the war-gear of Ivar of our House, who is dead in the night of his hurts gotten in yesterday’s battle: thou and he are alike in stature, and with a good will doth he give them to thee, and they are goodly things, for he comes of smithying blood. Yet is it a pity of Throng-plough that he lieth on the field of the slain.”

But Thiodolf smiled and said: “Nay, Ivar’s blade shall serve my turn to-day; and thereafter shall it be seen to, for then will be time for many things.”

So they went to fetch him the weapons; but he said to Arinbiorn, “Hast thou numbered the host? What are the gleanings of the Roman sword?”

Said Arinbiorn: “Here have we more than three thousand three hundred warriors of the host fit for battle: and besides this here are gathered eighteen hundred of the Wolfings and the Bearings, and of the other Houses, mostly from over the water, and of these nigh upon seven hundred may bear sword or shoot shaft; neither shall ye hinder them from so doing if the battle be joined.”

Then said Thiodolf: “We shall order us into three battles; the Wolfings and the Bearings to lead the first, for this is our business; but others of the smaller Houses this side the water to be with us; and the Elkings and Galtings and the other Houses of the Mid-mark on the further side of the water to be in the second, and with them the more part of the Nether-mark; but the men of Up-mark to be in the third, and the stay-at-homes to follow on with them: and this third battle to let the wood cover them till they be needed, which may not be till the day of fight draws to an end, when all shall be needed: for no Roman man must be left alive or untaken by this even, or else must we all go to the Gods together. Hearken, Arinbiorn. I am not called fore-sighted, and yet meseems I see somewhat how this day shall go; and it is not to be hidden that I shall not see another battle until the last of all battles is at hand. But be of good cheer, for I shall not die till the end of the fight, and once more I shall be a man’s help unto you. Now the first of the Romans we meet shall not be able to stand before us, for they shall be unready, and when their men are gotten ready and are fighting with us grimly, ye of the second battle shall hear the war-token, and shall fall on, and they shall be dismayed when they see so many fresh men come into the fight; yet shall they stand stoutly; for they are valiant men, and shall not all be taken unawares. Then, if they withstand us long enough, shall the third battle come forth from the wood, and fall on either flank of them, and the day shall be won. But I think not that they shall withstand us so long, but that the men of Up-mark and the stay-at-homes shall have the chasing of them. Now get me my war-gear, and let the first battle get them to the outgate of the garth.”

So they brought him his arms; and meanwhile the Hall-Sun spake to one of the Captains, and he turned and went away a little space, and then came back, having with him three strong warriors of the Wolfings, and he brought them before the Hall-Sun, who said to them:

“Ye three, Steinulf, Athalulf, and Grani the Grey, I have sent for you because ye are men both mighty in battle and deft wood-wrights and house-smiths; ye shall follow Thiodolf closely, when he winneth into the Roman garth, yet shall ye fight wisely, so that ye be not slain, or at least not all; ye shall enter the Hall with Thiodolf, and when ye are therein, if need be, ye shall run down the Hall at your swiftest, and mount up into the loft betwixt the Middle-hearth and the Women’s-Chamber, and there shall ye find good store of water in vats and tubs, and this ye shall use for quenching the fire of the Hall if the foemen fire it, as is not unlike to be.”

Then Grani spoke for the others and said he would pay all heed to her words, and they departed to join their company.

Now was Thiodolf armed; and Arinbiorn, turning about before he went to his place, beheld him and knit his brow, and said: “What is this, Thiodolf? Didst thou not swear to the Gods not to bear helm or shield in the battles of this strife? yet hast thou Ivar’s helm on thine head and his shield ready beside thee: wilt thou forswear thyself? so doing shalt thou bring woe upon the House.”

“Arinbiorn,” said Thiodolf, “where didst thou hear tell of me that I had made myself the thrall of the Gods? The oath that I sware was sworn when mine heart was not whole towards our people; and now will I break it that I may keep what of good intent there was in it, and cast away the rest. Long is the story; but if we journey together to-night I will tell it thee. Likewise I will tell it to the Gods if they look sourly upon me when I see them, and all shall be well.”

He smiled as he spoke, and Arinbiorn smiled on him in turn and went his ways to array the host. But when he was gone Thiodolf was alone in that place with the Hall-Sun, and he turned to her, and kissed her, and caressed her fondly, and spake and said:

“So fare we, O my daughter, to the sundering of the ways;
Short is my journey henceforth to the door that ends my days,
And long the road that lieth as yet before thy feet.
How fain were I that thy journey from day to day were sweet
With peace to thee and pleasure; that a noble warrior’s hand
In its early days might lead thee adown the flowery land,
And thy children in its noon-tide cling round about thy gown,
And the wise that thy womb has carried when the sun is going down,
Be thy happy fellow-farers to tell the tale of Earth,
But I wot that for no such sweetness did we bring thee unto birth,
But to be the soul of the Wolfings till the other days should come,
And the fruit of the kindreds’ harvest with thee is garnered home.
Yet if for no blithe faring thy life-day is ordained,
Yet peace that long endureth maybe thy soul hath gained;
And thy sorrow of this even thy latest grief shall be,
The grief wherewith thou singest the death-song over me.”

She looked up at him and smiled, though the tears were on her face; then she said:

“Though to-day the grief beginneth yet the bitterness is done.
Though my body wendeth barren ’neath the beams of the quickening sun,
Yet remembrance still abideth, and long after the days of my life
Shall I live in the tale of the morning, when they tell of the ending of strife;
And the deeds of this little hand, and the thought conceived in my heart,
And never again henceforward from the folk shall I fare apart.
And if of the Earth, my father, thou hast tidings in thy place
Thou shalt hear how they call me the Ransom and the Mother of happy days.”

Then she wept outright for a brief space, and thereafter she said:

“Keep this in thine heart, O father, that I shall remember all
Since thou liftedst the she-wolf’s nursling in the oak-tree’s leafy hall.
Yea, every time I remember when hand in hand we went
Amidst the shafts of the beech-trees, and down to the youngling bent
The Folk-wolf in his glory when the eve of fight drew nigh;
And every time I remember when we wandered joyfully
Adown the sunny meadow and lived a while of life
’Midst the herbs and the beasts and the waters so free from fear and strife,
That thy years and thy might and thy wisdom, I had no part therein;
But thou wert as the twin-born brother of the maiden slim and thin,
The maiden shy in the feast-hall and blithe in wood and field.
Thus have we fared, my father; and e’en now when thou bearest shield,
On the last of thy days of mid-earth, twixt us ’tis even so
That the heart of my like-aged brother is the heart of thee that I know.”

Then the bitterness of tears stayed her speech, and he spake no word more, but took her in his arms a while and soothed her and fondled her, and then they parted, and he went with great strides towards the outgoing of the Thing-stead.

There he found the warriors of his House and of the Bearings and the lesser Houses of Mid-mark, all duly ordered for wending through the wood. The dawn was coming on apace, but the wood was yet dark. But whereas the Wolfings led, and each man of them knew the wood like his own hand, there was no straying or disarray, and in less than a half-hour’s space Thiodolf and the first battle were come to the wood behind the hazel-trees at the back of the hall, and before them was the dawning round about the Roof of the Kindred; the eastern heavens were brightening, and they could see all things clear without the wood.

CHAPTER XXVIII—OF THE STORM OF DAWNING

Then Thiodolf bade Fox and two others steal forward, and see what of foemen was before them; so they fell to creeping on towards the open: but scarcely had they started, before all men could hear the tramp of men drawing nigh; then Thiodolf himself took with him a score of his House and went quietly toward the wood-edge till they were barely within the shadow of the beech-wood; and he looked forth and saw men coming straight towards their lurking-place. And those he saw were a good many, and they were mostly of the dastards of the Goths; but with them was a Captain of an Hundred of the Romans, and some others of his kindred; and Thiodolf deemed that the Goths had been bidden to gather up some of the night-watchers and enter the wood and fall on the stay-at-homes. So he bade his men get them aback, and he himself abode still at the very wood’s edge listening intently with his sword bare in his hand. And he noted that those men of the foe stayed in the daylight outside the wood, but a few yards from it, and, by command as it seemed, fell silent and spake no word; and the morn was very still, and when the sound of their tramp over the grass had ceased, Thiodolf could hear the tramp of more men behind them. And then he had another thought, to wit that the Romans had sent scouts to see if the Goths yet abided on the vantage-ground by the ford, and that when they had found them gone, they were minded to fall on them unawares in the refuge of the Thing-stead and were about to do so by the counsel and leading of the dastard Goths; and that this was one body of the host led by those dastards, who knew somewhat of the woods. So he drew aback speedily, and catching hold of Fox by the shoulder (for he had taken him alone with him) he bade him creep along through the wood toward the Thing-stead, and bring back speedy word whether there were any more foemen near the wood thereaway; and he himself came to his men, and ordered them for onset, drawing them up in a shallow half moon, with the bowmen at the horns thereof, with the word to loose at the Romans as soon as they heard the war-horn blow: and all this was done speedily and with little noise, for they were well nigh so arrayed already.

Thus then they waited, and there was more than a glimmer of light even under the beechen leaves, and the eastern sky was yellowing to sunrise. The other warriors were like hounds in the leash eager to be slipped; but Thiodolf stood calm and high-hearted turning over the memory of past days, and the time he thought of seemed long to him, but happy.

Scarce had a score of minutes passed, and the Romans before them, who were now gathered thick behind those dastards of the Goths, had not moved, when back comes Fox and tells how he has come upon a great company of the Romans led by their thralls of the Goths who were just entering the wood, away there towards the Thing-stead.

“But, War-duke,” says he, “I came also across our own folk of the second battle duly ordered in the wood ready to meet them; and they shall be well dealt with, and the sun shall rise for us and not for them.”

Then turns Thiodolf round to those nighest to him and says, but still softly:

“Hear ye a word, O people, of the wisdom of the foe!
Before us thick they gather, and unto the death they go.
They fare as lads with their cur-dogs who have stopped a fox’s earth,
And standing round the spinny, now chuckle in their mirth,
Till one puts by the leafage and trembling stands astare
At the sight of the Wood wolf’s father arising in his lair—
They have come for our wives and our children, and our sword-edge shall they meet;
And which of them is happy save he of the swiftest feet?”

Speedily then went that word along the ranks of the Kindred, and men were merry with the restless joy of battle: but scarce had two minutes passed ere suddenly the stillness of the dawn was broken by clamour and uproar; by shouts and shrieks, and the clashing of weapons from the wood on their left hand; and over all arose the roar of the Markmen’s horn, for the battle was joined with the second company of the Kindreds. But a rumour and murmur went from the foemen before Thiodolf’s men; and then sprang forth the loud sharp word of the captains commanding and rebuking, as if the men were doubtful which way they should take.

Amidst all which Thiodolf brandished his sword, and cried out in a great voice:

“Now, now, ye War-sons!
Now the Wolf waketh!
Lo how the Wood-beast
Wendeth in onset.
E’en as his feet fare
Fall on and follow!”

And he led forth joyously, and terrible rang the long refrained gathered shout of his battle as his folk rushed on together devouring the little space between their ambush and the hazel-beset greensward.

In the twinkling of an eye the half-moon had lapped around the Roman-Goths and those that were with them; and the dastards made no stand but turned about at once, crying out that the Gods of the Kindreds were come to aid and none could withstand them. But these fleers thrust against the band of Romans who were next to them, and bore them aback, and great was the turmoil; and when Thiodolf’s storm fell full upon them, as it failed not to do, so close were they driven together that scarce could any man raise his hand for a stroke. For behind them stood a great company of those valiant spearmen of the Romans, who would not give way if anywise they might hold it out: and their ranks were closely serried, shield nigh touching shield, and their faces turned toward the foe; and so arrayed, though they might die, they scarce knew how to flee. As they might these thrust and hewed at the fleers, and gave fierce words but few to the Roman-Goths, driving them back against their foemen: but the fleers had lost the cunning of their right hands, and they had cast away their shields and could not defend their very bodies against the wrath of the kindreds; and when they strove to flee to the right hand or to the left, they were met by the horns of the half-moon, and the arrows began to rain in upon them, and from so close were they shot at that no shaft failed to smite home.

There then were the dastards slain; and their bodies served for a rampart against the onrush of the Markmen to those Romans who had stood fast. To them were gathering more and more every minute, and they faced the Goths steadily with their hard brown visages and gleaming eyes above their iron-plated shields; not casting their spears, but standing closely together, silent, but fierce. The light was spread now over all the earth; the eastern heavens were grown golden-red, flecked here and there with little crimson clouds: this battle was fallen near silent, but to the North was great uproar of shouts and cries, and the roaring of the war-horns, and the shrill blasts of the brazen trumpets.

Now Thiodolf, as his wont was when he saw that all was going well, had refrained himself of hand-strokes, but was here and there and everywhere giving heart to his folk, and keeping them in due order, and close array, lest the Romans should yet come among them. But he watched the ranks of the foe, and saw how presently they began to spread out beyond his, and might, if it were not looked to, take them in flank; and he was about to order his men anew to meet them, when he looked on his left hand and saw how Roman men were pouring thick from the wood out of all array, followed by a close throng of the kindreds: for on this side the Romans were outnumbered and had stumbled unawares into the ambush of the Markmen, who had fallen on them straightway and disarrayed them from the first. This flight of their folk the Romans saw also, and held their men together, refraining from the onset, as men who deem that they will have enough to do to stand fast.

But the second battle of the Markmen, (who were of the Nether-mark, mingled with the Mid-mark) fought wisely, for they swept those fleers from before them, slaying many and driving the rest scattering, yet held the chase for no long way, but wheeling about came sidelong on toward the battle of the Romans and Thiodolf. And when Thiodolf saw that, he set up the whoop of victory, he and his, and fell fiercely on the Romans, casting everything that would fly, as they rushed on to the handplay; so that there was many a Roman slain with the Roman spears that those who had fallen had left among their foemen.

Now the Roman captains perceived that it availed not to tarry till the men of the Mid and Nether-marks fell upon their flank; so they gave command, and their ranks gave back little by little, facing their foes, and striving to draw themselves within the dike and garth, which, after their custom, they had already cast up about the Wolfing Roof, their stronghold.

Now as fierce as was the onset of the Markmen, the main body of the Romans could not be hindered from doing this much before the men of the second battle were upon them; but Thiodolf and Arinbiorn with some of the mightiest brake their array in two places and entered in amongst them. And wrath so seized upon the soul of Arinbiorn for the slaying of Otter, and his own fault towards him, that he cast away his shield, and heeding no strokes, first brake his sword in the press, and then, getting hold of a great axe, smote at all before him as though none smote at him in turn; yea, as though he were smiting down tree-boles for a match against some other mighty man; and all the while amidst the hurry, strokes of swords and spears rained on him, some falling flatwise and some glancing sideways, but some true and square, so that his helm was smitten off and his hauberk rent adown, and point and edge reached his living flesh; and he had thrust himself so far amidst the foe that none could follow to shield him, so that at last he fell shattered and rent at the foot of the new clayey wall cast up by the Romans, even as Thiodolf and a band with him came cleaving the press, and the Romans closed the barriers against friend and foe, and cast great beams adown, and masses of iron and lead and copper taken from the smithying-booths of the Wolfings, to stay them if it were but a little.

Then Thiodolf bestrode the fallen warrior, and men of his House were close behind him, for wisely had he fought, cleaving the press like a wedge, helping his friends that they might help him, so that they all went forward together. But when he saw Arinbiorn fall he cried out:

“Woe’s me, Arinbiorn! that thou wouldest not wait for me; for the day is young yet, and over-young!”

There then they cleared the space outside the gate, and lifted up the Bearing Warrior, and bare him back from the rampart. For so fierce had been the fight and so eager the storm of those that had followed after him that they must needs order their battle afresh, since Thiodolf’s wedge which he had driven into the Roman host was but of a few and the foe had been many and the rampart and the shot-weapons were close anigh. Wise therefore it seemed to abide them of the second battle and join with them to swarm over the new-built slippery wall in the teeth of the Roman shot.

In this, the first onset of the Morning Battle, some of the Markmen had fallen, but not many, since but a few had entered outright into the Roman ranks; and when they first rushed on from the wood but three of them were slain, and the slaughter was all of the dastards and the Romans; and afterwards not a few of the Romans were slain, what by Arinbiorn, what by the others; for they were fighting fleeing, and before their eyes was the image of the garth-gate which was behind them; and they stumbled against each other as they were driven sideways against the onrush of the Goths, nor were they now standing fair and square to them, and they were hurried and confused with the dread of the onset of them of the two Marks.

As yet Thiodolf had gotten no great hurt, so that when he heard that Arinbiorn’s soul had passed away he smiled and said:

“Yea, yea, Arinbiorn might have abided the end, for ere then shall the battle be hard.”

So now the Wolfings and the Bearings met joyously the kindreds of the Nether Mark and the others of the second battle, and they sang the song of victory arrayed in good order hard by the Roman rampart, while bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled, and sling-stones hummed from this side and from that.

And of their song of victory thus much the tale telleth:

“Now hearken and hear
Of the day-dawn of fear,
And how up rose the sun
On the battle begun.
All night lay a-hiding,
Our anger abiding,
Dark down in the wood
The sharp seekers of blood;
But ere red grew the heaven we bore them all bare,
For against us undriven the foemen must fare;
They sought and they found us, and sorrowed to find,
For the tree-boles around us the story shall mind,
How fast from the glooming they fled to the light,
Yeasaying the dooming of Tyr of the fight.

“Hearken yet and again
How the night gan to wane,
And the twilight stole on
Till the world was well won!
E’en in such wise was wending
A great host for our ending;
On our life-days e’en so
Stole the host of the foe;
Till the heavens grew lighter, and light grew the world,
And the storm of the fighter upon them was hurled,
Then some fled the stroke, and some died and some stood,
Till the worst of the storm broke right out from the wood,
And the war-shafts were singing the carol of fear,
The tale of the bringing the sharp swords anear.

“Come gather we now,
For the day doth grow.
Come, gather, ye bold,
Lest the day wax old;
Lest not till to-morrow
We slake our sorrow,
And heap the ground
With many a mound.
Come, war-children, gather, and clear we the land!
In the tide of War-father the deed is to hand.
Clad in gear that we gilded they shrink from our sword;
In the House that we builded they sit at the board;
Come, war-children, gather, come swarm o’er the wall
For the feast of War-father to sweep out the Hall!”

Now amidst of their singing the sun rose upon the earth, and gleamed in the arms of men, and lit the faces of the singing warriors as they stood turned toward the east.

In this first onset of battle but twenty and three Markmen were slain in all, besides Arinbiorn; for, as aforesaid, they had the foe at a disadvantage. And this onset is called in the tale the Storm of Dawning.

CHAPTER XXI—OF THIODOLF’S STORM

The Goths tarried not over their victory; they shot with all the bowmen that they had against the Romans on the wall, and therewith arrayed themselves to fall on once more. And Thiodolf, now that the foe were covered by a wall, though it was but a little one, sent a message to the men of the third battle, them of Up-mark to wit, to come forward in good array and help to make a ring around the Wolfing Stead, wherein they should now take the Romans as a beast is taken in a trap. Meanwhile, until they came, he sent other men to the wood to bring tree-boles to batter the gate, and to make bridges whereby to swarm over the wall, which was but breast-high on the Roman side, though they had worked at it ceaselessly since yesterday morning.

In a long half-hour, therefore, the horns of the men of Up-mark sounded, and they came forth from the wood a very great company, for with them also were the men of the stay-at-homes and the homeless, such of them as were fit to bear arms. Amongst these went the Hall-Sun surrounded by a band of the warriors of Up-mark; and before her was borne her namesake the Lamp as a sign of assured victory. But these stay-at-homes with the Hall-Sun were stayed by the command of Thiodolf on the crown of the slope above the dwellings, and stood round about the Speech-Hill, on the topmost of which stood the Hall-Sun, and the wondrous Lamp, and the men who warded her and it.

When the Romans saw the new host come forth from the wood, they might well think that they would have work enough to do that day; but when they saw the Hall-Sun take her stand on the Speech-Hill with the men-at-arms about her, and the Lamp before her, then dread of the Gods fell upon them, and they knew that the doom had gone forth against them. Nevertheless they were not men to faint and die because the Gods were become their foes, but they were resolved rather to fight it out to the end against whatsoever might come against them, as was well seen afterwards.

Now they had made four gates to their garth according to their custom, and at each gate within was there a company of their mightiest men, and each was beset by the best of the Markmen. Thiodolf and his men beset the western gate where they had made that fierce onset. And the northern gate was beset by the Elkings and some of the kindreds of the Nether-mark; and the eastern gate by the rest of the men of Nether-mark; and the southern gate by the kindreds of Up-mark.

All this the Romans noted, and they saw how that the Markmen were now very many, and they knew that they were men no less valiant than themselves, and they perceived that Thiodolf was a wise Captain; and in less than two hours’ space from the Storm of Dawning they saw those men coming from the wood with plenteous store of tree-trunks to bridge their ditch and rampart; and they considered how the day was yet very young, so that they might look for no shelter from the night-tide; and as for any aid from their own folk at the war-garth aforesaid, they hoped not for it, nor had they sent any messenger to the Captain of the garth; nor did they know as yet of his overthrow on the Ridge.

Now therefore there seemed to be but two choices before them; either to abide within the rampart they had cast up, or to break out like valiant men, and either die in the storm, or cleave a way through, whereby they might come to their kindred and their stronghold south-east of the Mark.

This last way then they chose; or, to say the truth, it was their chief captain who chose it for them, though they were nothing loth thereto: for this man was a mocker, yet hot-headed, unstable, and nought wise in war, and heretofore had his greed minished his courage; yet now, being driven into a corner, he had courage enough and to spare, but utterly lacked patience; for it had been better for the Romans to have abided one or two onsets from the Goths, whereby they who should make the onslaught would at the least have lost more men than they on whom they should fall, before they within stormed forth on them; but their pride took away from the Romans their last chance. But their captain, now that he perceived, as he thought, that the game was lost and his life come to its last hour wherein he would have to leave his treasure and pleasure behind him, grew desperate and therewith most fierce and cruel. So all the captives whom they had taken (they were but two score and two, for the wounded men they had slain) he caused to be bound on the chairs of the high-seat clad in their war-gear with their swords or spears made fast to their right hands, and their shields to their left hands; and he said that the Goths should now hold a Thing wherein they should at last take counsel wisely, and abstain from folly. For he caused store of faggots and small wood smeared with grease and oil to be cast into the hall that it might be fired, so that it and the captives should burn up altogether; “So,” said he, “shall we have a fair torch for our funeral fire;” for it was the custom of the Romans to burn their dead.

Thus, then, he did; and then he caused men to do away the barriers and open all the four gates of the new-made garth, after he had manned the wall with the slingers and bowmen, and slain the horses, so that the woodland folk should have no gain of them. Then he arrayed his men at the gates and about them duly and wisely, and bade those valiant footmen fall on the Goths who were getting ready to fall on them, and to do their best. But he himself armed at all points took his stand at the Man’s-door of the Hall, and swore by all the Gods of his kindred that he would not move a foot’s length from thence either for fire or for steel.

So fiercely on that fair morning burned the hatred of men about the dwellings of the children of the Wolf of the Goths, wherein the children of the Wolf of Rome were shut up as in a penfold of slaughter.

Meanwhile the Hall-Sun standing on the Hill of Speech beheld it all, looking down into the garth of war; for the new wall was no hindrance to her sight, because the Speech-Hill was high and but a little way from the Great Roof; and indeed she was within shot of the Roman bowmen, though they were not very deft in shooting.

So now she lifted up her voice and sang so that many heard her; for at this moment of time there was a lull in the clamour of battle both within the garth and without; even as it happens when the thunder-storm is just about to break on the world, that the wind drops dead, and the voice of the leaves is hushed before the first great and near flash of lightening glares over the fields.

So she sang:

“Now the latest hour cometh and the ending of the strife;
And to-morrow and to-morrow shall we take the hand of life,
And wend adown the meadows, and skirt the darkling wood,
And reap the waving acres, and gather in the good.
I see a wall before me built up of steel and fire,
And hurts and heart-sick striving, and the war-wright’s fierce desire;
But there-amidst a door is, and windows are therein;
And the fair sun-litten meadows and the Houses of the kin
Smile on me through the terror my trembling life to stay,
That at my mouth now flutters, as fain to flee away.
Lo e’en as the little hammer and the blow-pipe of the wright
About the flickering fire deals with the silver white,
And the cup and its beauty groweth that shall be for the people’s feast,
And all men are glad to see it from the greatest to the least;
E’en so is the tale now fashioned, that many a time and oft
Shall be told on the acre’s edges, when the summer eve is soft;
Shall be hearkened round the hall-blaze when the mid-winter night
The kindreds’ mirth besetteth, and quickeneth man’s delight,
And we that have lived in the story shall be born again and again
As men feast on the bread of our earning, and praise the grief-born grain.”

As she made an end of singing, those about her understood her words, that she was foretelling victory, and the peace of the Mark, and for joy they raised a shrill cry; and the warriors who were nighest to her took it up, and it spread through the whole host round about the garth, and went up into the breath of the summer morning and went down the wind along the meadow of the Wolfings, so that they of the wain-burg, who were now drawing somewhat near to Wolf-stead heard it and were glad.

But the Romans when they heard it knew that the heart of the battle was reached, and they cast back that shout wrathfully and fiercely, and made toward the foe.

Therewithal those mighty men fell on each other in the narrow passes of the garth; for fear was dead and buried in that Battle of the Morning.

On the North gate Hiarandi of the Elkings was the point of the Markmen’s wedge, and first clave the Roman press. In the Eastern gate it was Valtyr, Otter’s brother’s son, a young man and most mighty. In the South gate it was Geirbald of the Shieldings, the Messenger.

In the west gate Thiodolf the War-duke gave one mighty cry like the roar of an angry lion, and cleared a space before him for the wielding of Ivar’s blade; for at that moment he had looked up to the Roof of the Kindred and had beheld a little stream of smoke curling blue out of a window thereof, and he knew what had betided, and how short was the time before them. But his wrathful cry was taken up by some who had beheld that same sight, and by others who saw nought but the Roman press, and terribly it rang over the swaying struggling crowd.

Then fell the first rank of the Romans before those stark men and mighty warriors; and they fell even where they stood, for on neither side could any give back but for a little space, so close the press was, and the men so eager to smite. Neither did any crave peace if he were hurt or disarmed; for to the Goths it was but a little thing to fall in hot blood in that hour of love of the kindred, and longing for the days to be. And for the Romans, they had had no mercy, and now looked for none: and they remembered their dealings with the Goths, and saw before them, as it were, once more, yea, as in a picture, their slayings and quellings, and lashings, and cold mockings which they had dealt out to the conquered foemen without mercy, and now they longed sore for the quiet of the dark, when their hard lives should be over, and all these deeds forgotten, and they and their bitter foes should be at rest for ever.

Most valiantly they fought; but the fury of their despair could not deal with the fearless hope of the Goths, and as rank after rank of them took the place of those who were hewn down by Thiodolf and the Kindred, they fell in their turn, and slowly the Goths cleared a space within the gates, and then began to spread along the wall within, and grew thicker and thicker. Nor did they fight only at the gates; but made them bridges of those tree-trunks, and fell to swarming over the rampart, till they had cleared it of the bowmen and slingers, and then they leaped down and fell upon the flanks of the Romans; and the host of the dead grew, and the host of the living lessened.

Moreover the stay-at-homes round about the Speech-Hill, and that band of the warriors of Up-mark who were with them, beheld the Great Roof and saw the smoke come gushing out of the windows, and at last saw the red flames creep out amidst it and waver round the window jambs like little banners of scarlet cloth. Then they could no longer refrain themselves, but ran down from the Speech-Hill and the slope about it with great and fierce cries, and clomb the wall where it was unmanned, helping each other with hand and back, both stark warriors, and old men and lads and women: and thus they gat them into the garth and fell upon the lessening band of the Romans, who now began to give way hither and thither about the garth, as they best might.

Thus it befell at the West-gate, but at the other gates it was no worser, for there was no diversity of valour between the Houses; nay, whereas the more part and the best part of the Romans faced the onset of Thiodolf, which seemed to them the main onset, they were somewhat easier to deal with elsewhere than at the West gate; and at the East gate was the place first won, so that Valtyr and his folk were the first to clear a space within the gate, and to tell the tale shortly (for can this that and the other sword-stroke be told of in such a medley?) they drew the death-ring around the Romans that were before them, and slew them all to the last man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward of them of the North gate, who still stood before Hiarandi’s onset. There again was no long tale to tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning the gate, and the wall was cleared of the Roman shot-fighters, and the Markmen were standing on the top thereof, and casting down on the Romans spears and baulks of wood and whatsoever would fly. There again were the Romans all slain or put out of the fight, and the two bands of the kindred joined together, and with what voices the battle-rage had left them cried out for joy and fared on together to help to bind the sheaves of war which Thiodolf’s sickle had reaped. And now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they still fought in knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed and thrust without more thought or will than the stone has when it leaps adown the hill-side after it has first been set agoing.

But now the garth was fairly won and Thiodolf saw that there was no hope for the Romans drawing together again; so while the kindreds were busied in hewing down those knots of desperate men, he gathered to him some of the wisest of his warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf and Grani the Grey, the deft wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously hurt by a spear and was out of the battle), and drave a way through the confused turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made straight for the Man’s-door of the Hall. Soon he was close thereto, having hewn away all fleers that hindered him, and the doorway was before him. But on the threshold, the fire and flames of the kindled hall behind him, stood the Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned armour and surcoat of sea-born purple; the man was cool and calm and proud, and a mocking smile was on his face: and he bore his bright blade unbloodied in his hand.

Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their eyes met; it had gone hard with the War-duke, and those eyes glittered in his pale face, and his teeth were close set together; though he had fought wisely, and for life, as he who is most valiant ever will do, till he is driven to bay like the lone wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. His helm and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought coat, but the work of Ivar’s hand: the blood was running down from his left arm, and he was hurt in many places: he had broken Ivar’s sword in the medley, and now bore in his hand a strong Roman short-sword, and his feet stood bloody on the worn earth anigh the Man’s-door.

He looked into the scornful eyes of the Roman lord for a little minute and then laughed aloud, and therewithal, leaping on him with one spring, turned sideways, and dealt him a great buffet on his ear with his unarmed left hand, just as the Roman thrust at him with his sword, so that the Captain staggered forward on to the next man following, which was Wolfkettle the eager warrior, who thrust him through with his sword and shoved him aside as they all strode into the hall together. Howbeit no sword fell from the Roman Captain as he fell, for Thiodolf’s side bore it into the Hall of the Wolfings.

Most wrathful were those men, and went hastily, for their Roof was full of smoke, and the flames flickered about the pillars and the wall here and there, and crept up to the windows aloft; yet was it not wholly or fiercely burning; for the Roman fire-raisers had been hurried and hasty in their work. Straightway then Steinulf and Grani led the others off at a run towards the loft and the water; but Thiodolf, who went slowly and painfully, looked and beheld on the dais those men bound for the burning, and he went quietly, and as a man who has been sick, and is weak, up on to the dais, and said:

“Be of good cheer, O brothers, for the kindreds have vanquished the foemen, and the end of strife is come.”

His voice sounded strange and sweet to them amidst the turmoil of the fight without; he laid down his sword on the table, and drew a little sharp knife from his girdle and cut their bonds one by one and loosed them with his blood-stained hands; and each one as he loosed him he kissed and said to him, “Brother, go help those who are quenching the fire; this is the bidding of the War-duke.”

But as he loosed one after other he was longer and longer about it, and his words were slower. At last he came to the man who was bound in his own high-seat close under the place of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun, and he was the only one left bound; that man was of the Wormings and was named Elfric; he loosed him and was long about it; and when he was done he smiled on him and kissed him, and said to him:

“Arise, brother! go help the quenchers of the fire, and leave to me this my chair, for I am weary: and if thou wilt, thou mayst bring me of that water to drink, for this morning men have forgotten the mead of the reapers!”

Then Elfric arose, and Thiodolf sat in his chair, and leaned back his head; but Elfric looked at him for a moment as one scared, and then ran his ways down the hall, which now was growing noisy with the hurry and bustle of the quenchers of the fire, to whom had divers others joined themselves.

There then from a bucket which was still for a moment he filled a wooden bowl, which he caught up from the base of one of the hall-pillars, and hastened up the Hall again; and there was no man nigh the dais, and Thiodolf yet sat in his chair, and the hall was dim with the rolling smoke, and Elfric saw not well what the War-duke was doing. So he hastened on, and when he was close to Thiodolf he trod in something wet, and his heart sank for he knew that it was blood; his foot slipped therewith and as he put out his hand to save himself the more part of the water was spilled, and mingled with the blood. But he went up to Thiodolf and said to him, “Drink, War-duke! here hath come a mouthful of water.”

But Thiodolf moved not for his word, and Elfric touched him, and he moved none the more.

Then Elfric’s heart failed him and he laid his hand on the War-duke’s hand, and looked closely into his face; and the hand was cold and the face ashen-pale; and Elfric laid his hand on his side, and he felt the short-sword of the Roman leader thrust deep therein, besides his many other hurts.

So Elfric knew that he was dead, and he cast the bowl to the earth, and lifted up his hands and wailed out aloud, like a woman who hath come suddenly on her dead child, and cried out in a great voice:

“Hither, hither, O men in this hall, for the War-duke of the Markmen is dead! O ye people, Hearken! Thiodolf the Mighty, the Wolfing is dead!”

And he was a young man, and weak with the binding and the waiting for death, and he bowed himself adown and crouched on the ground and wept aloud.

But even as he cried that cry, the sunlight outside the Man’s-door was darkened, and the Hall-Sun came over the threshold in her ancient gold-embroidered raiment, holding in her hand her namesake the wondrous Lamp; and the spears and the war-gear of warriors gleamed behind her; but the men tarried on the threshold till she turned about and beckoned to them, and then they poured in through the Man’s-door, their war-gear rent and they all befouled and disarrayed with the battle, but with proud and happy faces: as they entered she waved her hand to them to bid them go join the quenchers of the fire; so they went their ways.

But she went with unfaltering steps up to the dais, and the place where the chain of the Lamp hung down from amidst the smoke-cloud wavering a little in the gusts of the hall. Straightway she made the Lamp fast to its chain, and dealt with its pulleys with a deft hand often practised therein, and then let it run up toward the smoke-hidden Roof till it gleamed in its due place once more, a token of the salvation of the Wolfings and the welfare of all the kindreds.

Then she turned toward Thiodolf with a calm and solemn face, though it was very pale and looked as if she would not smile again. Elfric had risen up and was standing by the board speechless and the passion of sobs still struggling in his bosom. She put him aside gently, and went up to Thiodolf and stood above him, and looked down on his face a while: then she put forth her hand and closed his eyes, and stooped down and kissed his face. Then she stood up again and faced the Hall and looked and saw that many were streaming in, and that though the smoke was still eddying overhead, the fire was well nigh quenched within; and without the sound of battle had sunk and died away. For indeed the Markmen had ended their day’s work before noon-tide that day, and the more part of the Romans were slain, and to the rest they had given peace till the Folk-mote should give Doom concerning them; for pity of these valiant men was growing in the hearts of the valiant men who had vanquished them, now that they feared them no more.

And this second part of the Morning Battle is called Thiodolf’s Storm.

So now when the Hall-Sun looked and beheld that the battle was done and the fire quenched, and when she saw how every man that came into the Hall looked up and beheld the wondrous Lamp and his face quickened into joy at the sight of it; and how most looked up at the high-seat and Thiodolf lying leaned back therein, her heart nigh broke between the thought of her grief and of the grief of the Folk that their mighty friend was dead, and the thought of the joy of the days to be and all the glory that his latter days had won. But she gathered heart, and casting back the dark tresses of her hair, she lifted up her voice and cried out till its clear shrillness sounded throughout all the Roof:

“O men in this Hall the War-duke is dead! O people hearken! for Thiodolf the Mighty hath changed his life: Come hither, O men, Come hither, for this is true, that Thiodolf is dead!”

CHAPTER XXX—THIODOLF IS BORNE OUT OF THE HALL AND OTTER IS LAID BESIDE HIM

So when they heard her voice they came thither flockmeal, and a great throng mingled of many kindreds was in the Hall, but with one consent they made way for the Children of the Wolf to stand nearest to the dais. So there they stood, the warriors mingled with the women, the swains with the old men, the freemen with the thralls: for now the stay-at-homes of the House were all gotten into the garth, and the more part of them had flowed into the feast-hall when they knew that the fire was slackening.

All these now had heard the clear voice of the Hall-Sun, or others had told them what had befallen; and the wave of grief had swept coldly over them amidst their joy of the recoverance of their dwelling-place; yet they would not wail nor cry aloud, even to ease their sorrow, till they had heard the words of the Hall-Sun, as she stood facing them beside their dead War-duke.

Then she spake: “O Sorli the Old, come up hither! thou hast been my fellow in arms this long while.”

So the old man came forth, and went slowly in his clashing war-gear up on to the dais. But his attire gleamed and glittered, since over-old was he to thrust deep into the press that day, howbeit he was wise in war. So he stood beside her on the dais holding his head high, and proud he looked, for all his thin white locks and sunken eyes.

But again said the Hall-Sun: “Canst thou hear me, Wolfkettle, when I bid thee stand beside me, or art thou, too, gone on the road to Valhall?”

Forth then strode that mighty warrior and went toward the dais: nought fair was his array to look on; for point and edge had rent it and stained it red, and the flaring of the hall-flames had blackened it; his face was streaked with black withal, and his hands were as the hands of a smith among the thralls who hath wrought unwashen in the haste and hurry when men look to see the war-arrow abroad. But he went up on to the dais and held up his head proudly, and looked forth on to the hall-crowd with eyes that gleamed fiercely from his stained and blackened face.

Again the Hall-Sun said: “Art thou also alive, O Egil the messenger? Swift are thy feet, but not to flee from the foe: Come up and stand with us!”

Therewith Egil clave the throng; he was not so roughly dealt with as was Wolfkettle, for he was a bowman, and had this while past shot down on the Romans from aloof; and he yet held his bended bow in his hand. He also came up on to the dais and stood beside Wolfkettle glancing down on the hall-crowd, looking eagerly from side to side.

Yet again the Hall-Sun spake: “No aliens now are dwelling in the Mark; come hither, ye men of the kindreds! Come thou, our brother Hiarandi of the Elkings, for thy sisters, our wives, are fain of thee. Come thou, Valtyr of the Laxings, brother’s son of Otter; do thou for the War-duke what thy father’s brother had done, had he not been faring afar. Come thou, Geirbald of the Shieldings the messenger! Now know we the deeds of others and thy deeds. Come, stand beside us for a little!”

Forth then they came in their rent and battered war-gear: and the tall Hiarandi bore but the broken truncheon of his sword; and Valtyr a woodman’s axe notched and dull with work; and Geirbald a Roman cast-spear, for his own weapons had been broken in the medley; and he came the last of the three, going as a belated reaper from the acres. There they stood by the others and gazed adown the hall-throng.

But the Hall-Sun spake again: “Agni of the Daylings, I see thee now. How camest thou into the hard handplay, old man? Come hither and stand with us, for we love thee. Angantyr of the Bearings, fair was thy riding on the day of the Battle on the Ridge! Come thou, be with us. Shall the Beamings whose daughters we marry fail the House of the Wolf to-day? Geirodd, thou hast no longer a weapon, but the fight is over, and this hour thou needest it not. Come to us, brother! Gunbald of the Vallings, the Falcon on thy shield is dim with the dint of point and edge, but it hath done its work to ward thy valiant heart: Come hither, friend! Come all ye and stand with us!”

As she named them so they came, and they went up on to the dais and stood altogether; and a terrible band of warriors they looked had the fight been to begin over again, and they to meet death once more. And again spake the Hall-Sun:

“Steinulf and Grani, deft are your hands! Take ye the stalks of the war blossoms, the spears of the kindreds, and knit them together to make a bier for our War-duke, for he is weary and may not go afoot. Thou Ali, son of Grey; thou hast gone errands for me before; go forth now from the garth, and wend thy ways toward the water, and tell me when thou comest back what thou hast seen of the coming of the wain-burg. For by this time it should be drawing anigh.”

So Ali went forth, and there was silence of words for a while in the Hall; but there arose the sound of the wood-wrights busy with the wimble and the hammer about the bier. No long space had gone by when Ali came back into the hall panting with his swift running; and he cried out:

“O Hall-Sun, they are coming; the last wain hath crossed the ford, and the first is hard at hand: bright are their banners in the sun.”

Then said the Hall-Sun: “O warriors, it is fitting that we go to meet our banners returning from the field, and that we do the Gods to wit what deeds we have done; fitting is it also that Thiodolf our War-duke wend with us. Now get ye into your ordered bands, and go we forth from the fire-scorched hall, and out into the sunlight, that the very earth and the heavens may look upon the face of our War-duke, and bear witness that he hath played his part as a man.”

Then without more words the folk began to stream out of the Hall, and within the garth which the Romans had made they arrayed their companies. But when they were all gone from the Hall save they who were on the dais, the Hall-Sun took the waxen torch which she had litten and quenched at the departure of the host to battle, and now she once more kindled it at the flame of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun. But the wood-wrights brought the bier which they had made of the spear-shafts of the kindred, and they laid thereon a purple cloak gold-embroidered of the treasure of the Wolfings, and thereon was Thiodolf laid.

Then those men took him up; to wit, Sorli the Old, and Wolfkettle and Egil, all these were of the Wolfing House; Hiarandi of the Elkings also, and Valtyr of the Laxings, Geirbald of the Shieldings, Agni of the Daylings, Angantyr of the Bearings, Geirodd of the Beamings, Gunbald of the Vallings: all these, with the two valiant wood-wrights, Steinulf and Grani, laid hand to the bier.

So they bore it down from the dais, and out at the Man’s-door into the sunlight, and the Hall-Sun followed close after it, holding in her hand the Candle of Returning. It was an hour after high-noon of a bright midsummer day when she came out into the garth; and the smoke from the fire-scorched hall yet hung about the trees of the wood-edge. She looked neither down towards her feet nor on the right side or the left, but straight before her. The ordered companies of the kindreds hid the sight of many fearful things from her eyes; though indeed the thralls and women had mostly gleaned the dead from the living both of friend and foe, and were tending the hurt of either host. Through an opening in the ranks moreover could they by the bier behold the scanty band of Roman captives, some standing up, looking dully around them, some sitting or lying on the grass talking quietly together, and it seemed by their faces that for them the bitterness of death was passed.

Forth then fared the host by the West gate, where Thiodolf had done so valiantly that day, and out on to the green amidst the booths and lesser dwellings. Sore then was the heart of the Hall-Sun, as she looked forth over dwelling, and acre, and meadow, and the blue line of the woods beyond the water, and bethought her of all the familiar things that were within the compass of her eyesight, and remembered the many days of her father’s loving-kindness, and the fair words wherewith he had solaced her life-days. But of the sorrow that wrung her heart nothing showed in her face, nor was she paler now than her wont was. For high was her courage, and she would in no wise mar that fair day and victory of the kindreds with grief for what was gone, whereas so much of what once was, yet abided and should abide for ever.

Then fared they down through the acres, where what was yet left of the wheat was yellowing toward harvest, and the rye hung grey and heavy; for bright and hot had the weather been all through these tidings. Howbeit much of the corn was spoiled by the trampling of the Roman bands.

So came they into the fair open meadow and saw before them the wains coming to meet them with their folk; to wit a throng of stout carles of the thrall-folk led by the war-wise and ripe men of the Steerings. Bright was the gleaming of the banner-wains, though for the lack of wind the banners hung down about their staves; the sound of the lowing of the bulls and the oxen, the neighing of horses and bleating of the flocks came up to the ears of the host as they wended over the meadow.

They made stay at last on the rising ground, all trampled and in parts bloody, where yesterday Thiodolf had come on the fight between the remnant of Otter’s men and the Romans: there they opened their ranks, and made a ring round about a space, amidmost of which was a little mound whereon was set the bier of Thiodolf. The wains and their warders came up with them and drew a garth of the wains round about the ring of men with the banners of the kindreds in their due places.

There was the Wolf and the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Boar, the Bear, and the Green-tree: the Willow-bush, the Gedd, the Water-bank and the Wood-Ousel, the Steer, the Mallard and the Roe-deer: all these were of the Mid-mark. But of the Upper-mark were the Horse and the Spear, and the Shield, and the Daybreak, and the Dale, and the Mountain, and the Brook, and the Weasel, and the Cloud, and the Hart.

Of the Nether-mark were the Salmon, and the Lynx, and the Ling worm, the Seal, the Stone, and the Sea-mew; the Buck-goat, the Apple-tree, the Bull, the Adder, and the Crane.

There they stood in the hot sunshine three hours after noon; and a little wind came out of the west and raised the pictured cloths upon the banner-staves, so that the men could now see the images of the tokens of their Houses and the Fathers of old time.

Now was there silence in the ring of men; but it opened presently and through it came all-armed warriors bearing another bier, and lo, Otter upon it, dead in his war-gear with many a grievous wound upon his body. For men had found him in an ingle of the wall of the Great Roof, where he had been laid yesterday by the Romans when his company and the Bearings with the Wormings made their onset: for the Romans had noted his exceeding valour, and when they had driven off the Goths some of them brought him dead inside their garth, for they would know the name and dignity of so valorous a man.

So now they bore him to the mound where Thiodolf lay and set the bier down beside Thiodolf’s, and the two War-dukes of the Markmen lay there together: and when the warriors beheld that sight, they could not forbear, but some groaned aloud, and some wept great tears, and they clashed their swords on their shields and the sound of their sorrow and their praise went up to the summer heavens.

Now the Hall-Sun holding aloft the waxen torch lifted up her voice and said:

“O warriors of the Wolfings, by the token of the flame
That here in my right hand flickers, ye are back at the House of the Name,
And there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing Roof,
And the flame that the foemen quickened hath died out far aloof.
Ye gleanings of the battle, lift up your hearts on high,
For the House of the War-wise Wolfings and the Folk undoomed to die.
But ye kindreds of the Markmen, the Wolfing guests are ye,
And to-night we hold the high-tide, and great shall the feasting be,
For to-day by the road that we know not a many wend their ways
To the Gods and the ancient Fathers, and the hope of the latter days.
And how shall their feet be cumbered if we tangle them with woe,
And the heavy rain of sorrow drift o’er the road they go?
They have toiled, and their toil was troublous to make the days to come;
Use ye their gifts in gladness, lest they grieve for the Ancient Home!
Now are our maids arraying that fire-scorched Hall of ours
With the treasure of the Wolfings and the wealth of summer flowers,
And this eve the work before you will be the Hall to throng
And purge its walls of sorrow and quench its scathe and wrong.”

She looked on the dead Thiodolf a moment, and then glanced from him to Otter and spake again:

“O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies lie;
Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by
As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then
As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men;
Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell,
Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell!
Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one
Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands have done,
Will not the word be with him, while yet your hearts are hot,
Of our praise and long remembrance, and our love that dieth not?
Then let him come up hither and speak the latest word
O’er the limbs of the battle-weary and the hearts outworn with the sword.”

She held her peace, and there was a stir in the ring of men: for they who were anigh the Dayling banner saw an old warrior sitting on a great black horse and fully armed. He got slowly off his horse and walked toward the ring of warriors, which opened before him; for all knew him for Asmund the old, the war-wise warrior of the Daylings, even he who had lamented over the Hauberk of Thiodolf. He had taken horse the day before, and had ridden toward the battle, but was belated, and had come up with them of the wain-burg just as they had crossed the water.

CHAPTER XXXI—OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD ARE LAID IN MOUND

Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies of the War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:

“O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew of old,
When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold,
And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons
When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns,
And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst.
O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst,
And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood
That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood;
And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away
We abode the kindreds’ coming as the wet night bideth day?
Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had,
How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad?
O fellow of the hall-glee! O fellow of the field!
Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield?
I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall
Are thy brother’s sons abiding and their children on thee call.

“O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein,
This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win
Good days and long endurance. Who knoweth of his deed
What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of need?
But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came
And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame.
In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man,
No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan,
But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o’er earth,
With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth.”

He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter’s face with grievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout. For indeed, as he had said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his hall-fellow, though he was much younger than Asmund; and they had been standing foot to foot in that battle wherein old Asmund’s sons were slain by his side.

After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze upon Thiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth to speak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of the bier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept aloud. Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness of his heart, and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and had not cowered down under them. But at last he arose again, and stood firmly on his feet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more like the voice of a man in his prime than of an old man, he sang:

“Wild the storm is abroad
Of the edge of the sword!
Far on runneth the path
Of the war-stride of wrath!
The Gods hearken and hear
The long rumour of fear
From the meadows beneath
Running fierce o’er the heath,
Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof
And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o’er their roof,
And quencheth their laughter and crieth on all,
As it rolleth round rafter and beam of the Hall,
Like the speech of the thunder-cloud tangled on high,
When the mountain-halls sunder as dread goeth by.

“So they throw the door wide
Of the Hall where they bide,
And to murmuring song
Turns that voice of the wrong,
And the Gods wait a-gaze
For that Wearer of Ways:
For they know he hath gone
A long journey alone.
Now his feet are they hearkening, and now is he come,
With his battle-wounds darkening the door of his home,
Unbyrnied, unshielded, and lonely he stands,
And the sword that he wielded is gone from his hands—
Hands outstretched and bearing no spoil of the fight,
As speechless, unfearing, he stands in their sight.

“War-father gleams
Where the white light streams
Round kings of old
All red with gold,
And the Gods of the name
With joy aflame.
All the ancient of men
Grown glorious again:
Till the Slains-father crieth aloud at the last:
‘Here is one that belieth no hope of the past!
No weapon, no treasure of earth doth he bear,
No gift for the pleasure of Godhome to share;
But life his hand bringeth, well cherished, most sweet;
And hark! the Hall singeth the Folk-wolf to greet!’

“As the rain of May
On earth’s happiest day,
So the fair flowers fall
On the sun-bright Hall
As the Gods rise up
With the greeting-cup,
And the welcoming crowd
Falls to murmur aloud.
Then the God of Earth speaketh; sweet-worded he saith,
‘Lo, the Sun ever seeketh Life fashioned of death;
And to-day as he turneth the wide world about
On Wolf-stead he yearneth; for there without doubt
Dwells the death-fashioned story, the flower of all fame.
Come hither new Glory, come Crown of the Name!’”

All men’s hearts rose high as he sang, and when he had ended arose the clang of sword and shield and went ringing down the meadow, and the mighty shout of the Markmen’s joy rent the heavens: for in sooth at that moment they saw Thiodolf, their champion, sitting among the Gods on his golden chair, sweet savours around him, and sweet sound of singing, and he himself bright-faced and merry as no man on earth had seen him, for as joyous a man as he was.

But when the sound of their exultation sank down, the Hall-Sun spake again:

“Now wendeth the sun westward, and weary grows the Earth
Of all the long day’s doings in sorrow and in mirth;
And as the great sun waneth, so doth my candle wane,
And its flickering flame desireth to rest and die again.
Therefore across the meadows wend we aback once more
To the holy Roof of the Wolfings, the shrine of peace and war.
And these that once have loved us, these warriors images,
Shall sit amidst our feasting, and see, as the Father sees
The works that men-folk fashion and the rest of toiling hands,
When his eyes look down from the mountains and the heavens above all lands,
And up from the flowery meadows and the rolling deeps of the sea.
There then at the feast with our champions familiar shall we be
As oft we are with the Godfolk, when in story-rhymes and lays
We laugh as we tell of their laughter, and their deeds of other days.

“Come then, ye sons of the kindreds who hither bore these twain!
Take up their beds of glory, and fare we home again,
And feast as men delivered from toil unmeet to bear,
Who through the night are looking to the dawn-tide fresh and fair
And the morn and the noon to follow, and the eve and its morrow morn,
All the life of our deliv’rance and the fair days yet unborn.”

So she spoke, and a murmur arose as those valiant men came forth again. But lo, now were they dight in fresh and fair raiment and gleaming war-array. For while all this was a-doing and a-saying, they had gotten them by the Hall-Sun’s bidding unto the wains of their Houses, and had arrayed them from the store therein.

So now they took up the biers, and the Hall-Sun led them, and they went over the meadow before the throng of the kindreds, who followed them duly ordered, each House about its banner; and when they were come through the garth which the Romans had made to the Man’s-door of the Hall, there were the women of the House freshly attired, who cast flowers on the living men of the host, and on the dead War-dukes, while they wept for pity of them. So went the freemen of the Houses into the Hall, following the Hall-Sun, and the bearers of the War-dukes; but the banners abode without in the garth made by the Romans; and the thralls arrayed a feast for themselves about the wains of the kindreds in the open place before their cots and the smithying booths and the byres.

And as the Hall-Sun went into the Hall, she thrust down the candle against the threshold of the Man’s-door, and so quenched it.

Long were the kindreds entering, and when they were under the Roof of the Wolfings, they looked and beheld Thiodolf set in his chair once more, and Otter set beside him; and the chiefs and leaders of the House took their places on the dais, those to whom it was due, and the Hall-Sun sat under the wondrous Lamp her namesake.

Now was the glooming falling upon the earth; but the Hall was bright within even as the Hall-Sun had promised. Therein was set forth the Treasure of the Wolfings; fair cloths were hung on the walls, goodly broidered garments on the pillars: goodly brazen cauldrons and fair-carven chests were set down in nooks where men could see them well, and vessels of gold and silver were set all up and down the tables of the feast. The pillars also were wreathed with flowers, and flowers hung garlanded from the walls over the precious hangings; sweet gums and spices were burning in fair-wrought censers of brass, and so many candles were alight under the Roof, that scarce had it looked more ablaze when the Romans had litten the faggots therein for its burning amidst the hurry of the Morning Battle.

There then they fell to feasting, hallowing in the high-tide of their return with victory in their hands: and the dead corpses of Thiodolf and Otter, clad in precious glistering raiment, looked down on them from the High-seat, and the kindreds worshipped them and were glad; and they drank the Cup to them before any others, were they Gods or men.

But before the feast was hallowed in, came Ali the son of Grey up to the High-seat, bearing something in his hand: and lo! it was Throng-plough, which he had sought all over the field where the Markmen had been overcome by the Romans, and had found it at last. All men saw him how he held it in his hand now as he went up to the Hall-Sun and spake to her. But she kissed the lad on the forehead, and took Throng-plough, and wound the peace-strings round him and laid him on the board before Thiodolf; and then she spake softly as if to herself, yet so that some heard her:

“O father, no more shalt thou draw Throng-plough from the sheath till the battle is pitched in the last field of fight, and the sons of the fruitful Earth and the sons of Day meet Swart and his children at last, when the change of the World is at hand. Maybe I shall be with thee then: but now and in meanwhile, farewell, O mighty hand of my father!”

Thus then the Houses of the Mark held their High-tide of Returning under the Wolfing Roof with none to blame them or make them afraid: and the moon rose and the summer night wore on towards dawn, and within the Roof and without was there feasting and singing and harping and the voice of abundant joyance: for without the Roof feasted the thralls and the strangers, and the Roman war-captives.

But on the morrow the kindreds laid their dead men in mound betwixt the Great Roof and the Wild-wood. In one mound they laid them with the War-dukes in their midst, and Arinbiorn by Otter’s right side; and Thiodolf bore Throng-plough to mound with him.

But a little way from the mound of their own dead, toward the south they laid the Romans, a great company, with their Captain in the midst: and they heaped a long mound over them not right high; so that as years wore, and the feet of men and beasts trod it down, it seemed a mere swelling of the earth not made by men’s hands; and belike men knew not how many bones of valiant men lay beneath; yet it had a name which endured for long, to wit, the Battle-toft.

But the mound whereunder the Markmen were laid was called Thiodolf’s Howe for many generations of men, and many are the tales told of him; for men were loth to lose him and forget him: and in the latter days men deemed of him that he sits in that Howe not dead but sleeping, with Throng-plough laid before him on the board; and that when the sons of the Goths are at their sorest need and the falcons cease to sit on the ridge of the Great Roof of the Wolfings, he will wake and come forth from the Howe for their helping. But none have dared to break open that Howe and behold what is therein.

But that swelling of the meadow where the Goths had their overthrow at the hands of the Romans, and Thiodolf fell to earth unwounded, got a name also, and was called the Swooning Knowe; and it kept that name long after men had forgotten wherefore it was so called.

Now when all this was done, and the warriors of the kindreds were departed each to his own stead, the Wolfings gathered in wheat-harvest, and set themselves to make good all that the Romans had undone; and they cleansed and mended their Great Roof and made it fairer than before, and took from it all signs of the burning, save that they left the charring and marks of the flames on one tie-beam, the second from the dais, for a token of the past tidings. Also when Harvest was over the Wolfings, the Beamings, the Galtings, and the Elkings, set to work with the Bearings to rebuild their Great Roof and the other dwellings and booths which the Romans had burned; and right fair was that house.

But the Wolfings throve in field and fold, and they begat children who grew up to be mighty men and deft of hand, and the House grew more glorious year by year.

The tale tells not that the Romans ever fell on the Mark again; for about this time they began to stay the spreading of their dominion, or even to draw in its boundaries somewhat.

AND THIS IS ALL THAT THE TALE HAS TO TELL CONCERNING THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK.

FOOTNOTES

{1} Welsh with these men means Foreign, and is used for all people of Europe who are not of Gothic or Teutonic blood.

{2} i.e. Foreigners: see note {1}

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The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris
The Project Gutenberg eBook, The House of the Wolfings, by William Morris
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The House of the Wolfings
 A Tale of the House of the Wolfings and All the Kindreds of the Mark Written in Prose and in Verse
Author: William Morris
Release Date: May 4, 2005 [eBook #2885]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***
Transcribed from the 1904 Longmans, Green, and Co. edition by David
Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS
A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND ALL THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK
WRITTEN IN PROSE AND IN VERSE
by William Morris
 Whiles in the early Winter eve
We pass amid the gathering night
Some homestead that we had to leave
Years past; and see its candles bright
Shine in the room beside the door
Where we were merry years agone
But now must never enter more,
As still the dark road drives us on.
E’en so the world of men may turn
At even of some hurried day
And see the ancient glimmer burn
Across the waste that hath no way;
Then with that faint light in its eyes
A while I bid it linger near
And nurse in wavering memories
The bitter-sweet of days that were.
CHAPTER I—THE DWELLINGS OF MID-MARK
The tale tells that in times long past there was a dwelling of men
beside a great wood.  Before it lay a plain, not very great, but
which was, as it were, an isle in the sea of woodland, since even when
you stood on the flat ground, you could see trees everywhere in the
offing, though as for hills, you could scarce say that there were any;
only swellings-up of the earth here and there, like the upheavings of
the water that one sees at whiles going on amidst the eddies of a swift
but deep stream.
On either side, to right and left the tree-girdle reached out toward
the blue distance, thick close and unsundered, save where it and the
plain which it begirdled was cleft amidmost by a river about as wide
as the Thames at Sheene when the flood-tide is at its highest, but so
swift and full of eddies, that it gave token of mountains not so far
distant, though they were hidden.  On each side moreover of the
stream of this river was a wide space of stones, great and little, and
in most places above this stony waste were banks of a few feet high,
showing where the yearly winter flood was most commonly stayed.
You must know that this great clearing in the woodland was not a
matter of haphazard; though the river had driven a road whereby men
might fare on each side of its hurrying stream.  It was men who
had made that Isle in the woodland.
For many generations the folk that now dwelt there had learned the
craft of iron-founding, so that they had no lack of wares of iron and
steel, whether they were tools of handicraft or weapons for hunting
and for war.  It was the men of the Folk, who coming adown by the
river-side had made that clearing.  The tale tells not whence they
came, but belike from the dales of the distant mountains, and from dales
and mountains and plains further aloof and yet further.
Anyhow they came adown the river; on its waters on rafts, by its
shores in wains or bestriding their horses or their kine, or afoot,
till they had a mind to abide; and there as it fell they stayed their
travel, and spread from each side of the river, and fought with the
wood and its wild things, that they might make to themselves a dwelling-place
on the face of the earth.
So they cut down the trees, and burned their stumps that the grass
might grow sweet for their kine and sheep and horses; and they diked
the river where need was all through the plain, and far up into the
wild-wood to bridle the winter floods: and they made them boats to ferry
them over, and to float down stream and track up-stream: they fished
the river’s eddies also with net and with line; and drew drift
from out of it of far-travelled wood and other matters; and the gravel
of its shallows they washed for gold; and it became their friend, and
they loved it, and gave it a name, and called it the Dusky, and the
Glassy, and the Mirkwood-water; for the names of it changed with the
generations of man.
There then in the clearing of the wood that for many years grew greater
yearly they drave their beasts to pasture in the new-made meadows, where
year by year the grass grew sweeter as the sun shone on it and the standing
waters went from it; and now in the year whereof the tale telleth it
was a fair and smiling plain, and no folk might have a better meadow.
But long before that had they learned the craft of tillage and taken
heed to the acres and begun to grow wheat and rye thereon round about
their roofs; the spade came into their hands, and they bethought them
of the plough-share, and the tillage spread and grew, and there was
no lack of bread.
In such wise that Folk had made an island amidst of the Mirkwood,
and established a home there, and upheld it with manifold toil too long
to tell of.  And from the beginning this clearing in the wood they
called the Mid-mark: for you shall know that men might journey up and
down the Mirkwood-water, and half a day’s ride up or down they
would come on another clearing or island in the woods, and these were
the Upper-mark and the Nether-mark: and all these three were inhabited
by men of one folk and one kindred, which was called the Mark-men, though
of many branches was that stem of folk, who bore divers signs in battle
and at the council whereby they might be known.
Now in the Mid-mark itself were many Houses of men; for by that word
had they called for generations those who dwelt together under one token
of kinship.  The river ran from South to North, and both on the
East side and on the West were there Houses of the Folk, and their habitations
were shouldered up nigh unto the wood, so that ever betwixt them and
the river was there a space of tillage and pasture.
Tells the tale of one such House, whose habitations were on the west
side of the water, on a gentle slope of land, so that no flood higher
than common might reach them.  It was straight down to the river
mostly that the land fell off, and on its downward-reaching slopes was
the tillage, “the Acres,” as the men of that time always
called tilled land; and beyond that was the meadow going fair and smooth,
though with here and there a rising in it, down to the lips of the stony
waste of the winter river.
Now the name of this House was the Wolfings, and they bore a Wolf
on their banners, and their warriors were marked on the breast with
the image of the Wolf, that they might be known for what they were if
they fell in battle, and were stripped.
The house, that is to say the Roof, of the Wolfings of the Mid-mark
stood on the topmost of the slope aforesaid with its back to the wild-wood
and its face to the acres and the water.  But you must know that
in those days the men of one branch of kindred dwelt under one roof
together, and had therein their place and dignity; nor were there many
degrees amongst them as hath befallen afterwards, but all they of one
blood were brethren and of equal dignity.  Howbeit they had servants
or thralls, men taken in battle, men of alien blood, though true it
is that from time to time were some of such men taken into the House,
and hailed as brethren of the blood.
Also (to make an end at once of these matters of kinship and affinity)
the men of one House might not wed the women of their own House: to
the Wolfing men all Wolfing women were as sisters: they must needs wed
with the Hartings or the Elkings or the Bearings, or other such Houses
of the Mark as were not so close akin to the blood of the Wolf; and
this was a law that none dreamed of breaking.  Thus then dwelt
this Folk and such was their Custom.
As to the Roof of the Wolfings, it was a great hall and goodly, after
the fashion of their folk and their day; not built of stone and lime,
but framed of the goodliest trees of the wild-wood squared with the
adze, and betwixt the framing filled with clay wattled with reeds. 
Long was that house, and at one end anigh the gable was the Man’s-door,
not so high that a man might stand on the threshold and his helmcrest
clear the lintel; for such was the custom, that a tall man must bow
himself as he came into the hall; which custom maybe was a memory of
the days of onslaught when the foemen were mostly wont to beset the
hall; whereas in the days whereof the tale tells they drew out into
the fields and fought unfenced; unless at whiles when the odds were
over great, and then they drew their wains about them and were fenced
by the wain-burg.  At least it was from no niggardry that the door
was made thus low, as might be seen by the fair and manifold carving
of knots and dragons that was wrought above the lintel of the door for
some three foot’s space.  But a like door was there anigh
the other gable-end, whereby the women entered, and it was called the
Woman’s-door.
Near to the house on all sides except toward the wood were there
many bowers and cots round about the penfolds and the byres: and these
were booths for the stowage of wares, and for crafts and smithying that
were unhandy to do in the house; and withal they were the dwelling-places
of the thralls.  And the lads and young men often abode there many
days and were cherished there of the thralls that loved them, since
at whiles they shunned the Great Roof that they might be the freer to
come and go at their pleasure, and deal as they would.  Thus was
there a clustering on the slopes and bents betwixt the acres of the
Wolfings and the wild-wood wherein dwelt the wolves.
As to the house within, two rows of pillars went down it endlong,
fashioned of the mightiest trees that might be found, and each one fairly
wrought with base and chapiter, and wreaths and knots, and fighting
men and dragons; so that it was like a church of later days that has
a nave and aisles: windows there were above the aisles, and a passage
underneath the said windows in their roofs.  In the aisles were
the sleeping-places of the Folk, and down the nave under the crown of
the roof were three hearths for the fires, and above each hearth a luffer
or smoke-bearer to draw the smoke up when the fires were lighted. 
Forsooth on a bright winter afternoon it was strange to see the three
columns of smoke going wavering up to the dimness of the mighty roof,
and one maybe smitten athwart by the sunbeams.  As for the timber
of the roof itself and its framing, so exceeding great and high it was,
that the tale tells how that none might see the fashion of it from the
hall-floor unless he were to raise aloft a blazing faggot on a long
pole: since no lack of timber was there among the men of the Mark.
At the end of the hall anigh the Man’s-door was the dais, and
a table thereon set thwartwise of the hall; and in front of the dais
was the noblest and greatest of the hearths; (but of the others one
was in the very midmost, and another in the Woman’s-Chamber) and
round about the dais, along the gable-wall, and hung from pillar to
pillar were woven cloths pictured with images of ancient tales and the
deeds of the Wolfings, and the deeds of the Gods from whence they came. 
And this was the fairest place of all the house and the best-beloved
of the Folk, and especially of the older and the mightier men: and there
were tales told, and songs sung, especially if they were new: and thereto
also were messengers brought if any tidings were abroad: there also
would the elders talk together about matters concerning the House or
the Mid-mark or the whole Folk of the Markmen.
Yet you must not think that their solemn councils were held there,
the folk-motes whereat it must be determined what to do and what to
forbear doing; for according as such councils, (which they called Things)
were of the House or of the Mid-mark or of the whole Folk, were they
held each at the due Thing-steads in the Wood aloof from either acre
or meadow, (as was the custom of our forefathers for long after) and
at such Things would all the men of the House or the Mid-mark or the
Folk be present man by man.  And in each of these steads was there
a Doomring wherein Doom was given by the neighbours chosen, (whom now
we call the Jury) in matters between man and man; and no such doom of
neighbours was given, and no such voice of the Folk proclaimed in any
house or under any roof, nor even as aforesaid on the tilled acres or
the depastured meadows.  This was the custom of our forefathers,
in memory, belike, of the days when as yet there was neither house nor
tillage, nor flocks and herds, but the Earth’s face only and what
freely grew thereon.
But over the dais there hung by chains and pulleys fastened to a
tie-beam of the roof high aloft a wondrous lamp fashioned of glass;
yet of no such glass as the folk made then and there, but of a fair
and clear green like an emerald, and all done with figures and knots
in gold, and strange beasts, and a warrior slaying a dragon, and the
sun rising on the earth: nor did any tale tell whence this lamp came,
but it was held as an ancient and holy thing by all the Markmen, and
the kindred of the Wolf had it in charge to keep a light burning in
it night and day for ever; and they appointed a maiden of their own
kindred to that office; which damsel must needs be unwedded, since no
wedded woman dwelling under that roof could be a Wolfing woman, but
would needs be of the houses wherein the Wolfings wedded.
This lamp which burned ever was called the Hall-Sun, and the woman
who had charge of it, and who was the fairest that might be found was
called after it the Hall-Sun also.
At the other end of the hall was the Woman’s-Chamber, and therein
were the looms and other gear for the carding and spinning of wool and
the weaving of cloth.
Such was the Roof under which dwelt the kindred of the Wolfings;
and the other kindreds of the Mid-mark had roofs like to it; and of
these the chiefest were the Elkings, the Vallings, the Alftings, the
Beamings, the Galtings, and the Bearings; who bore on their banners
the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Tree, the Boar, and the Bear. 
But other lesser and newer kindreds there were than these: as for the
Hartings above named, they were a kindred of the Upper-mark.
CHAPTER II—THE FLITTING OF THE WAR-ARROW
Tells the tale that it was an evening of summer, when the wheat was
in the ear, but yet green; and the neat-herds were done driving the
milch-kine to the byre, and the horseherds and the shepherds had made
the night-shift, and the out-goers were riding two by two and one by
one through the lanes between the wheat and the rye towards the meadow. 
Round the cots of the thralls were gathered knots of men and women both
thralls and freemen, some talking together, some hearkening a song or
a tale, some singing and some dancing together; and the children gambolling
about from group to group with their shrill and tuneless voices, like
young throstles who have not yet learned the song of their race. 
With these were mingled dogs, dun of colour, long of limb, sharp-nosed,
gaunt and great; they took little heed of the children as they pulled
them about in their play, but lay down, or loitered about, as though
they had forgotten the chase and the wild-wood.
Merry was the folk with that fair tide, and the promise of the harvest,
and the joy of life, and there was no weapon among them so close to
the houses, save here and there the boar-spear of some herdman or herd-woman
late come from the meadow.
Tall and for the most part comely were both men and women; the most
of them light-haired and grey-eyed, with cheek-bones somewhat high;
white of skin but for the sun’s burning, and the wind’s
parching, and whereas they were tanned of a very ruddy and cheerful
hue.  But the thralls were some of them of a shorter and darker
breed, black-haired also and dark-eyed, lighter of limb; sometimes better
knit, but sometimes crookeder of leg and knottier of arm.  But
some also were of build and hue not much unlike to the freemen; and
these doubtless came of some other Folk of the Goths which had given
way in battle before the Men of the Mark, either they or their fathers.
Moreover some of the freemen were unlike their fellows and kindred,
being slenderer and closer-knit, and black-haired, but grey-eyed withal;
and amongst these were one or two who exceeded in beauty all others
of the House.
Now the sun was set and the glooming was at point to begin and the
shadowless twilight lay upon the earth.  The nightingales on the
borders of the wood sang ceaselessly from the scattered hazel-trees
above the greensward where the grass was cropped down close by the nibbling
of the rabbits; but in spite of their song and the divers voices of
the men-folk about the houses, it was an evening on which sounds from
aloof can be well heard, since noises carry far at such tides.
Suddenly they who were on the edges of those throngs and were the
less noisy, held themselves as if to listen; and a group that had gathered
about a minstrel to hear his story fell hearkening also round about
the silenced and hearkening tale-teller: some of the dancers and singers
noted them and in their turn stayed the dance and kept silence to hearken;
and so from group to group spread the change, till all were straining
their ears to hearken the tidings.  Already the men of the night-shift
had heard it, and the shepherds of them had turned about, and were trotting
smartly back through the lanes of the tall wheat: but the horse-herds
were now scarce seen on the darkening meadow, as they galloped on fast
toward their herds to drive home the stallions.  For what they
had heard was the tidings of war.
There was a sound in the air as of a humble-bee close to the ear
of one lying on a grassy bank; or whiles as of a cow afar in the meadow
lowing in the afternoon when milking-time draws nigh: but it was ever
shriller than the one, and fuller than the other; for it changed at
whiles, though after the first sound of it, it did not rise or fall,
because the eve was windless.  You might hear at once that for
all it was afar, it was a great and mighty sound; nor did any that hearkened
doubt what it was, but all knew it for the blast of the great war-horn
of the Elkings, whose Roof lay up Mirkwood-water next to the Roof of
the Wolfings.
So those little throngs broke up at once; and all the freemen, and
of the thralls a good many, flocked, both men and women, to the Man’s-door
of the hall, and streamed in quietly and with little talk, as men knowing
that they should hear all in due season.
Within under the Hall-Sun, amidst the woven stories of time past,
sat the elders and chief warriors on the dais, and amidst of all a big
strong man of forty winters, his dark beard a little grizzled, his eyes
big and grey.  Before him on the board lay the great War-horn of
the Wolfings carved out of the tusk of a sea-whale of the North and
with many devices on it and the Wolf amidst them all; its golden mouth-piece
and rim wrought finely with flowers.  There it abode the blowing,
until the spoken word of some messenger should set forth the tidings
borne on the air by the horn of the Elkings.
But the name of the dark-haired chief was Thiodolf (to wit Folk-wolf)
and he was deemed the wisest man of the Wolfings, and the best man of
his hands, and of heart most dauntless.  Beside him sat the fair
woman called the Hall-Sun; for she was his foster-daughter before men’s
eyes; and she was black-haired and grey-eyed like to her fosterer, and
never was woman fashioned fairer: she was young of years, scarce twenty
winters old.
There sat the chiefs and elders on the dais, and round about stood
the kindred intermingled with the thralls, and no man spake, for they
were awaiting sure and certain tidings: and when all were come in who
had a mind to, there was so great a silence in the hall, that the song
of the nightingales on the wood-edge sounded clear and loud therein,
and even the chink of the bats about the upper windows could be heard. 
Then amidst the hush of men-folk, and the sounds of the life of the
earth came another sound that made all turn their eyes toward the door;
and this was the pad-pad of one running on the trodden and summer-dried
ground anigh the hall: it stopped for a moment at the Man’s-door,
and the door opened, and the throng parted, making way for the man that
entered and came hastily up to the midst of the table that stood on
the dais athwart the hall, and stood there panting, holding forth in
his outstretched hand something which not all could see in the dimness
of the hall-twilight, but which all knew nevertheless.  The man
was young, lithe and slender, and had no raiment but linen breeches
round his middle, and skin shoes on his feet.  As he stood there
gathering his breath for speech, Thiodolf stood up, and poured mead
into a drinking horn and held it out towards the new-comer, and spake,
but in rhyme and measure:
 “Welcome, thou evening-farer, and holy be thine
head,
Since thou hast sought unto us in the heart of the Wolfings’ stead;
Drink now of the horn of the mighty, and call a health if thou wilt
O’er the eddies of the mead-horn to the washing out of guilt.
For thou com’st to the peace of the Wolfings, and our very guest
thou art,
And meseems as I behold thee, that I look on a child of the Hart.”
But the man put the horn from him with a hasty hand, and none said
another word to him until he had gotten his breath again; and then he
said:
 “All hail ye Wood-Wolfs’ children! nought
may I drink the wine,
For the mouth and the maw that I carry this eve are nought of mine;
And my feet are the feet of the people, since the word went forth that
tide,
‘O Elf here of the Hartings, no longer shalt thou bide
In any house of the Markmen than to speak the word and wend,
Till all men know the tidings and thine errand hath an end.’
Behold, O Wolves, the token and say if it be true!
I bear the shaft of battle that is four-wise cloven through,
And its each end dipped in the blood-stream, both the iron and the horn,
And its midmost scathed with the fire; and the word that I have borne
Along with this war-token is, ‘Wolfings of the Mark
Whenso ye see the war-shaft, by the daylight or the dark,
Busk ye to battle faring, and leave all work undone
Save the gathering for the handplay at the rising of the sun.
Three days hence is the hosting, and thither bear along
Your wains and your kine for the slaughter lest the journey should be
long.
For great is the Folk, saith the tidings, that against the Markmen come;
In a far off land is their dwelling, whenso they sit at home,
And Welsh   {1} is their
tongue, and we wot not of the word that is in their mouth,
As they march a many together from the cities of the South.’”
Therewith he held up yet for a minute the token of the war-arrow
ragged and burnt and bloody; and turning about with it in his hand went
his ways through the open door, none hindering; and when he was gone,
it was as if the token were still in the air there against the heads
of the living men, and the heads of the woven warriors, so intently
had all gazed at it; and none doubted the tidings or the token. 
Then said Thiodolf:
 “Forth will we Wolfing children, and cast a sound
abroad:
The mouth of the sea-beast’s weapon shall speak the battle-word;
And ye warriors hearken and hasten, and dight the weed of war,
And then to acre and meadow wend ye adown no more,
For this work shall be for the women to drive our neat from the mead,
And to yoke the wains, and to load them as the men of war have need.”
Out then they streamed from the hall, and no man was left therein
save the fair Hall-Sun sitting under the lamp whose name she bore. 
But to the highest of the slope they went, where was a mound made higher
by man’s handiwork; thereon stood Thiodolf and handled the horn,
turning his face toward the downward course of Mirkwood-water; and he
set the horn to his lips, and blew a long blast, and then again, and
yet again the third time; and all the sounds of the gathering night
were hushed under the sound of the roaring of the war-horn of the Wolfings;
and the Kin of the Beamings heard it as they sat in their hall, and
they gat them ready to hearken to the bearer of the tidings who should
follow on the sound of the war-blast.
But when the last sound of the horn had died away, then said Thiodolf:
 “Now Wolfing children hearken, what the splintered
War-shaft saith,
The fire scathed blood-stained aspen! we shall ride for life or death,
We warriors, a long journey with the herd and with the wain;
But unto this our homestead shall we wend us back again,
All the gleanings of the battle; and here for them that live
Shall stand the Roof of the Wolfings, and for them shall the meadow
thrive,
And the acres give their increase in the harvest of the year;
Now is no long departing since the Hall-Sun bideth here
’Neath the holy Roof of the Fathers, and the place of the Wolfing
kin,
And the feast of our glad returning shall yet be held therein.
Hear the bidding of the War-shaft!  All men, both thralls and free,
’Twixt twenty winters and sixty, beneath the shield shall be,
And the hosting is at the Thing-stead, the Upper-mark anigh;
And we wend away to-morrow ere the Sun is noon-tide high.”
Therewith he stepped down from the mound, and went his way back to
the hall; and manifold talk arose among the folk; and of the warriors
some were already dight for the journey, but most not, and a many went
their ways to see to their weapons and horses, and the rest back again
into the hall.
By this time night had fallen, and between then and the dawning would
be no darker hour, for the moon was just rising; a many of the horse-herds
had done their business, and were now making their way back again through
the lanes of the wheat, driving the stallions before them, who played
together kicking, biting and squealing, paying but little heed to the
standing corn on either side.  Lights began to glitter now in the
cots of the thralls, and brighter still in the stithies where already
you might hear the hammers clinking on the anvils, as men fell to looking
to their battle gear.
But the chief men and the women sat under their Roof on the eve of
departure: and the tuns of mead were broached, and the horns filled
and borne round by young maidens, and men ate and drank and were merry;
and from time to time as some one of the warriors had done with giving
heed to his weapons, he entered into the hall and fell into the company
of those whom he loved most and by whom he was best beloved; and whiles
they talked, and whiles they sang to the harp up and down that long
house; and the moon risen high shone in at the windows, and there was
much laughter and merriment, and talk of deeds of arms of the old days
on the eve of that departure: till little by little weariness fell on
them, and they went their ways to slumber, and the hall was fallen silent.
CHAPTER III—THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN
But yet sat Thiodolf under the Hall-Sun for a while as one in deep
thought; till at last as he stirred, his sword clattered on him; and
then he lifted up his eyes and looked down the hall and saw no man stirring,
so he stood up and settled his raiment on him, and went forth, and so
took his ways through the hall-door, as one who hath an errand.
The moonlight lay in a great flood on the grass without, and the
dew was falling in the coldest hour of the night, and the earth smelled
sweetly: the whole habitation was asleep now, and there was no sound
to be known as the sound of any creature, save that from the distant
meadow came the lowing of a cow that had lost her calf, and that a white
owl was flitting about near the eaves of the Roof with her wild cry
that sounded like the mocking of merriment now silent.
Thiodolf turned toward the wood, and walked steadily through the
scattered hazel-trees, and thereby into the thick of the beech-trees,
whose boles grew smooth and silver-grey, high and close-set: and so
on and on he went as one going by a well-known path, though there was
no path, till all the moonlight was quenched under the close roof of
the beech-leaves, though yet for all the darkness, no man could go there
and not feel that the roof was green above him.  Still he went
on in despite of the darkness, till at last there was a glimmer before
him, that grew greater till he came unto a small wood-lawn whereon the
turf grew again, though the grass was but thin, because little sunlight
got to it, so close and thick were the tall trees round about it. 
In the heavens above it by now there was a light that was not all of
the moon, though it might scarce be told whether that light were the
memory of yesterday or the promise of to-morrow, since little of the
heavens could be seen thence, save the crown of them, because of the
tall tree-tops.
Nought looked Thiodolf either at the heavens above, or the trees,
as he strode from off the husk-strewn floor of the beech wood on to
the scanty grass of the lawn, but his eyes looked straight before him
at that which was amidmost of the lawn: and little wonder was that;
for there on a stone chair sat a woman exceeding fair, clad in glittering
raiment, her hair lying as pale in the moonlight on the grey stone as
the barley acres in the August night before the reaping-hook goes in
amongst them.  She sat there as though she were awaiting someone,
and he made no stop nor stay, but went straight up to her, and took
her in his arms, and kissed her mouth and her eyes, and she him again;
and then he sat himself down beside her.  But her eyes looked kindly
on him as she said:
“O Thiodolf, hardy art thou, that thou hast no fear to take
me in thine arms and to kiss me, as though thou hadst met in the meadow
with a maiden of the Elkings: and I, who am a daughter of the Gods of
thy kindred, and a Chooser of the Slain!  Yea, and that upon the
eve of battle and the dawn of thy departure to the stricken field!”
“O Wood-Sun,” he said “thou art the treasure of
life that I found when I was young, and the love of life that I hold,
now that my beard is grizzling.  Since when did I fear thee, Wood-Sun? 
Did I fear thee when first I saw thee, and we stood amidst the hazelled
field, we twain living amongst the slain?  But my sword was red
with the blood of the foe, and my raiment with mine own blood; and I
was a-weary with the day’s work, and sick with many strokes, and
methought I was fainting into death.  And there thou wert before
me, full of life and ruddy and smiling both lips and eyes; thy raiment
clean and clear, thine hands stained with blood: then didst thou take
me by my bloody and weary hand, and didst kiss my lips grown ashen pale,
and thou saidst ‘Come with me.’  And I strove to go,
and might not; so many and sore were my hurts.  Then amidst my
sickness and my weariness was I merry; for I said to myself, This is
the death of the warrior, and it is exceeding sweet.  What meaneth
it?  Folk said of me; he is over young to meet the foeman; yet
am I not over young to die?”
Therewith he laughed out amid the wild-wood, and his speech became
song, and he said:
 “We wrought in the ring of the hazels, and the
wine of war we drank:
From the tide when the sun stood highest to the hour wherein she sank:
And three kings came against me, the mightiest of the Huns,
The evil-eyed in battle, the swift-foot wily ones;
And they gnashed their teeth against me, and they gnawed on the shield-rims
there,
On that afternoon of summer, in the high-tide of the year.
Keen-eyed I gazed about me, and I saw the clouds draw up
Till the heavens were dark as the hollow of a wine-stained iron cup,
And the wild-deer lay unfeeding on the grass of the forest glades,
And all earth was scared with the thunder above our clashing blades.
“Then sank a King before me, and on fell the other twain,
And I tossed up the reddened sword-blade in the gathered rush of the
rain
And the blood and the water blended, and fragrant grew the earth.
“There long I turned and twisted within the battle-girth
Before those bears of onset: while out from the grey world streamed
The broad red lash of the lightening and in our byrnies gleamed.
And long I leapt and laboured in that garland of the fight
’Mid the blue blades and the lightening; but ere the sky grew
light
The second of the Hun-kings on the rain-drenched daisies lay;
And we twain with the battle blinded a little while made stay,
And leaning on our sword-hilts each on the other gazed.
“Then the rain grew less, and one corner of the veil of clouds
was raised,
And as from the broidered covering gleams out the shoulder white
Of the bed-mate of the warrior when on his wedding night
He layeth his hand to the linen; so, down there in the west
Gleamed out the naked heaven: but the wrath rose up in my breast,
And the sword in my hand rose with it, and I leaped and hewed at the
Hun;
And from him too flared the war-flame, and the blades danced bright
in the sun
Come back to the earth for a little before the ending of day.
“There then with all that was in him did the Hun play out the
play,
Till he fell, and left me tottering, and I turned my feet to wend
To the place of the mound of the mighty, the gate of the way without
end.
And there thou wert.  How was it, thou Chooser of the Slain,
Did I die in thine arms, and thereafter did thy mouth-kiss wake me again?”
Ere the last sound of his voice was done she turned and kissed him;
and then she said; “Never hadst thou a fear and thine heart is
full of hardihood.”
Then he said:
 “’Tis the hardy heart, beloved, that keepeth
me alive,
As the king-leek in the garden by the rain and the sun doth thrive,
So I thrive by the praise of the people; it is blent with my drink and
my meat;
As I slumber in the night-tide it laps me soft and sweet;
And through the chamber window when I waken in the morn
With the wind of the sun’s arising from the meadow is it borne
And biddeth me remember that yet I live on earth:
Then I rise and my might is with me, and fills my heart with mirth,
As I think of the praise of the people; and all this joy I win
By the deeds that my heart commandeth and the hope that lieth therein.”
“Yea,” she said, “but day runneth ever on the heels
of day, and there are many and many days; and betwixt them do they carry
eld.”
“Yet art thou no older than in days bygone,” said he. 
“Is it so, O Daughter of the Gods, that thou wert never born,
but wert from before the framing of the mountains, from the beginning
of all things?”
But she said:
 “Nay, nay; I began, I was born; although it may
be indeed
That not on the hills of the earth I sprang from the godhead’s
seed.
And e’en as my birth and my waxing shall be my waning and end.
But thou on many an errand, to many a field dost wend
Where the bow at adventure bended, or the fleeing dastard’s spear
Oft lulleth the mirth of the mighty.  Now me thou dost not fear,
Yet fear with me, beloved, for the mighty Maid I fear;
And Doom is her name, and full often she maketh me afraid
And even now meseemeth on my life her hand is laid.”
But he laughed and said:
 “In what land is she abiding?  Is she near
or far away?
Will she draw up close beside me in the press of the battle play?
And if then I may not smite her ’midst the warriors of the field
With the pale blade of my fathers, will she bide the shove of my shield?”
But sadly she sang in answer:
 “In many a stead Doom dwelleth, nor sleepeth day
nor night:
The rim of the bowl she kisseth, and beareth the chambering light
When the kings of men wend happy to the bride-bed from the board.
It is little to say that she wendeth the edge of the grinded sword,
When about the house half builded she hangeth many a day;
The ship from the strand she shoveth, and on his wonted way
By the mountain-hunter fareth where his foot ne’er failed before:
She is where the high bank crumbles at last on the river’s shore:
The mower’s scythe she whetteth; and lulleth the shepherd to sleep
Where the deadly ling-worm wakeneth in the desert of the sheep.
Now we that come of the God-kin of her redes for ourselves we wot,
But her will with the lives of men-folk and their ending know we not.
So therefore I bid thee not fear for thyself of Doom and her deed,
But for me: and I bid thee hearken to the helping of my need.
Or else—Art thou happy in life, or lusteth thou to die
In the flower of thy days, when thy glory and thy longing bloom on high?”
But Thiodolf answered her:
 “I have deemed, and long have I deemed that this
is my second life,
That my first one waned with my wounding when thou cam’st to the
ring of strife.
For when in thine arms I wakened on the hazelled field of yore,
Meseemed I had newly arisen to a world I knew no more,
So much had all things brightened on that dewy dawn of day.
It was dark dull death that I looked for when my thought had died away.
It was lovely life that I woke to; and from that day henceforth
My joy of the life of man-folk was manifolded of worth.
Far fairer the fields of the morning than I had known them erst,
And the acres where I wended, and the corn with its half-slaked thirst;
And the noble Roof of the Wolfings, and the hawks that sat thereon;
And the bodies of my kindred whose deliverance I had won;
And the glimmering of the Hall-Sun in the dusky house of old;
And my name in the mouth of the maidens, and the praises of the bold,
As I sat in my battle-raiment, and the ruddy spear well steeled
Leaned ’gainst my side war-battered, and the wounds thine hand
had healed.
Yea, from that morn thenceforward has my life been good indeed,
The gain of to-day was goodly, and good to-morrow’s need,
And good the whirl of the battle, and the broil I wielded there,
Till I fashioned the ordered onset, and the unhoped victory fair.
And good were the days thereafter of utter deedless rest
And the prattle of thy daughter, and her hands on my unmailed breast.
Ah good is the life thou hast given, the life that mine hands have won.
And where shall be the ending till the world is all undone?
Here sit we twain together, and both we in Godhead clad,
We twain of the Wolfing kindred, and each of the other glad.”
But she answered, and her face grew darker withal:
 “O mighty man and joyous, art thou of the Wolfing
kin?
’Twas no evil deed when we mingled, nor lieth doom therein.
Thou lovely man, thou black-haired, thou shalt die and have done no
ill.
Fame-crowned are the deeds of thy doing, and the mouths of men they
fill.
Thou betterer of the Godfolk, enduring is thy fame:
Yet as a painted image of a dream is thy dreaded name.
Of an alien folk thou comest, that we twain might be one indeed.
Thou shalt die one day.  So hearken, to help me at my need.”
His face grew troubled and he said: “What is this word that
I am no chief of the Wolfings?”
“Nay,” she said, “but better than they.  Look
thou on the face of our daughter the Hall-Sun, thy daughter and mine:
favoureth she at all of me?”
He laughed: “Yea, whereas she is fair, but not otherwise. 
This is a hard saying, that I dwell among an alien kindred, and it wotteth
not thereof.  Why hast thou not told me hereof before?”
She said: “It needed not to tell thee because thy day was waxing,
as now it waneth.  Once more I bid thee hearken and do my bidding
though it be hard to thee.”
He answered: “Even so will I as much as I may; and thus wise
must thou look upon it, that I love life, and fear not death.”
Then she spake, and again her words fell into rhyme:
 “In forty fights hast thou foughten, and been worsted
but in four;
And I looked on and was merry; and ever more and more
Wert thou dear to the heart of the Wood-Sun, and the Chooser of the
Slain.
But now whereas ye are wending with slaughter-herd and wain
To meet a folk that ye know not, a wonder, a peerless foe,
I fear for thy glory’s waning, and I see thee lying alow.”
Then he brake in: “Herein is little shame to be worsted by
the might of the mightiest: if this so mighty folk sheareth a limb off
the tree of my fame, yet shall it wax again.”
But she sang:
 “In forty fights hast thou foughten, and beside
thee who but I
Beheld the wind-tossed banners, and saw the aspen fly?
But to-day to thy war I wend not, for Weird withholdeth me
And sore my heart forebodeth for the battle that shall be.
To-day with thee I wend not; so I feared, and lo my feet,
That are wont to the woodland girdle of the acres of the wheat,
For thee among strange people and the foeman’s throng have trod,
And I tell thee their banner of battle is a wise and a mighty God.
For these are the folk of the cities, and in wondrous wise they dwell
’Mid confusion of heaped houses, dim and black as the face of
hell;
Though therefrom rise roofs most goodly, where their captains and their
kings
Dwell amidst the walls of marble in abundance of fair things;
And ’mid these, nor worser nor better, but builded otherwise
Stand the Houses of the Fathers, and the hidden mysteries.
And as close as are the tree-trunks that within the beech-wood thrive
E’en so many are their pillars; and therein like men alive
Stand the images of god-folk in such raiment as they wore
In the years before the cities and the hidden days of yore.
Ah for the gold that I gazed on! and their store of battle gear,
And strange engines that I knew not, or the end for which they were.
Ah for the ordered wisdom of the war-array of these,
And the folks that are sitting about them in dumb down-trodden peace!
So I thought now fareth war-ward my well-beloved friend,
And the weird of the Gods hath doomed it that no more with him may I
wend!
Woe’s me for the war of the Wolfings wherefrom I am sundered apart,
And the fruitless death of the war-wise, and the doom of the hardy heart!”
Then he answered, and his eyes grew kind as he looked on her:
 “For thy fair love I thank thee, and thy faithful
word, O friend!
But how might it otherwise happen but we twain must meet in the end,
The God of this mighty people and the Markmen and their kin?
Lo, this is the weird of the world, and what may we do herein?”
Then mirth came into her face again as she said:
“Who wotteth of Weird, and what she is till the weird is accomplished? 
Long hath it been my weird to love thee and to fashion deeds for thee
as I may; nor will I depart from it now.”  And she sang:
 “Keen-edged is the sword of the city, and bitter
is its spear,
But thy breast in the battle, beloved, hath a wall of the stithy’s
gear.
What now is thy wont in the handplay with the helm and the hauberk of
rings?
Farest thou as the thrall and the cot-carle, or clad in the raiment
of kings?”
He started, and his face reddened as he answered:
 “O Wood-Sun thou wottest our battle and the way
wherein we fare:
That oft at the battle’s beginning the helm and the hauberk we
bear;
Lest the shaft of the fleeing coward or the bow at adventure bent
Should slay us ere the need be, ere our might be given and spent.
Yet oft ere the fight is over, and Doom hath scattered the foe,
No leader of the people by his war-gear shall ye know,
But by his hurts the rather, from the cot-carle and the thrall:
For when all is done that a man may, ’tis the hour for a man to
fall.”
She yet smiled as she said in answer:
 “O Folk-wolf, heed and hearken; for when shall
thy life be spent
And the Folk wherein thou dwellest with thy death be well content?
Whenso folk need the fire, do they hew the apple-tree,
And burn the Mother of Blossom and the fruit that is to be?
Or me wilt thou bid to thy grave-mound because thy battle-wrath
May nothing more be bridled than the whirl wind on his path?
So hearken and do my bidding, for the hauberk shalt thou bear
E’en when the other warriors cast off their battle-gear.
So come thou, come unwounded from the war-field of the south,
And sit with me in the beech-wood, and kiss me, eyes and mouth.”
And she kissed him in very deed, and made much of him, and fawned
on him, and laid her hand on his breast, and he was soft and blithe
with her, but at last he laughed and said:
 “God’s Daughter, long hast thou lived, and
many a matter seen,
And men full often grieving for the deed that might have been;
But here my heart thou wheedlest as a maid of tender years
When first in the arms of her darling the horn of war she hears.
Thou knowest the axe to be heavy, and the sword, how keen it is;
But that Doom of which thou hast spoken, wilt thou not tell of this,
God’s Daughter, how it sheareth, and how it breaketh through
Each wall that the warrior buildeth, yea all deeds that he may do?
What might in the hammer’s leavings, in the fire’s thrall
shall abide
To turn that Folks’ o’erwhelmer from the fated warrior’s
side?”
Then she laughed in her turn, and loudly; but so sweetly that the
sound of her voice mingled with the first song of a newly awakened wood-thrush
sitting on a rowan twig on the edge of the Wood-lawn.  But she
said:
 “Yea, I that am God’s Daughter may tell thee
never a whit
From what land cometh the hauberk nor what smith smithied it,
That thou shalt wear in the handplay from the first stroke to the last;
But this thereof I tell thee, that it holdeth firm and fast
The life of the body it lappeth, if the gift of the Godfolk it be.
Lo this is the yoke-mate of doom, and the gift of me unto thee.”
Then she leaned down from the stone whereon they sat, and her hand
was in the dewy grass for a little, and then it lifted up a dark grey
rippling coat of rings; and she straightened herself in the seat again,
and laid that hauberk on the knees of Thiodolf, and he put his hand
to it, and turned it about, while he pondered long: then at last he
said:
 “What evil thing abideth with this warder of the
strife,
This burg and treasure chamber for the hoarding of my life?
For this is the work of the dwarfs, and no kindly kin of the earth;
And all we fear the dwarf-kin and their anger and sorrow and mirth.”
She cast her arms about him and fondled him, and her voice grew sweeter
than the voice of any mortal thing as she answered:
 “No ill for thee, beloved, or for me in the hauberk
lies;
No sundering grief is in it, no lonely miseries.
But we shall abide together, and that new life I gave,
For a long while yet henceforward we twain its joy shall have.
Yea, if thou dost my bidding to wear my gift in the fight
No hunter of the wild-wood at the changing of the night
Shall see my shape on thy grave-mound or my tears in the morning find
With the dew of the morning mingled; nor with the evening wind
Shall my body pass the shepherd as he wandereth in the mead
And fill him with forebodings on the eve of the Wolfings’ need.
Nor the horse-herd wake in the midnight and hear my fateful cry;
Nor yet shall the Wolfing women hear words on the wind go by
As they weave and spin the night down when the House is gone to the
war,
And weep for the swains they wedded and the children that they bore.
Yea do my bidding, O Folk-wolf, lest a grief of the Gods should weigh
On the ancient House of the Wolfings and my death o’ercloud its
day.”
And still she clung about him, while he spake no word of yea or nay:
but at the last he let himself glide wholly into her arms, and the dwarf-wrought
hauberk fell from his knees and lay on the grass.
So they abode together in that wood-lawn till the twilight was long
gone, and the sun arisen for some while.  And when Thiodolf stepped
out of the beech-wood into the broad sunshine dappled with the shadow
of the leaves of the hazels moving gently in the fresh morning air,
he was covered from the neck to the knee by a hauberk of rings dark
and grey and gleaming, fashioned by the dwarfs of ancient days.
CHAPTER IV—THE HOUSE FARETH TO THE WAR
Now when Thiodolf came back to the habitations of the kindred the
whole House was astir, both thrall-men and women, and free women hurrying
from cot to stithy, and from stithy to hall bearing the last of the
war-gear or raiment for the fighting-men.  But they for their part
were some standing about anigh the Man’s-door, some sitting gravely
within the hall, some watching the hurry of the thralls and women from
the midmost of the open space amidst of the habitations, whereon there
stood yet certain wains which were belated: for the most of the wains
were now standing with the oxen already yoked to them down in the meadow
past the acres, encircled by a confused throng of kine and horses and
thrall-folk, for thither had all the beasts for the slaughter, and the
horses for the warriors been brought; and there were the horses tethered
or held by the thralls; some indeed were already saddled and bridled,
and on others were the thralls doing the harness.
But as for the wains of the Markmen, they were stoutly framed of
ash-tree with panels of aspen, and they were broad-wheeled so that they
might go over rough and smooth.  They had high tilts over them
well framed of willow-poles covered over with squares of black felt
over-lapping like shingles; which felt they made of the rough of their
fleeces, for they had many sheep.  And these wains were to them
for houses upon the way if need were, and therein as now were stored
their meal and their war-store and after fight they would flit their
wounded men in them, such as were too sorely hurt to back a horse: nor
must it be hidden that whiles they looked to bring back with them the
treasure of the south.  Moreover the folk if they were worsted
in any battle, instead of fleeing without more done, would often draw
back fighting into a garth made by these wains, and guarded by some
of their thralls; and there would abide the onset of those who had thrust
them back in the field.  And this garth they called the Wain-burg.
So now stood three of these wains aforesaid belated amidst of the
habitations of the House, their yoke-beasts standing or lying down unharnessed
as yet to them: but in the very midst of that place was a wain unlike
to them; smaller than they but higher; square of shape as to the floor
of it; built lighter than they, yet far stronger; as the warrior is
stronger than the big carle and trencher-licker that loiters about the
hall; and from the midst of this wain arose a mast made of a tall straight
fir-tree, and thereon hung the banner of the Wolfings, wherein was wrought
the image of the Wolf, but red of hue as a token of war, and with his
mouth open and gaping upon the foemen.  Also whereas the other
wains were drawn by mere oxen, and those of divers colours, as chance
would have it, the wain of the banner was drawn by ten black bulls of
the mightiest of the herd, deep-dewlapped, high-crested and curly-browed;
and their harness was decked with gold, and so was the wain itself,
and the woodwork of it painted red with vermilion.  There then
stood the Banner of the House of the Wolfings awaiting the departure
of the warriors to the hosting.
So Thiodolf stood on the top of the bent beside that same mound wherefrom
he had blown the War-horn yester-eve, and which was called the Hill
of Speech, and he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around him;
and even therewith the carles fell to yoking the beasts to the belated
wains, and the warriors gathered together from out of the mixed throngs,
and came from the Roof and the Man’s-door and all set their faces
toward the Hill of Speech.
So Thiodolf knew that all was ready for departure, and it wanted
but an hour of high-noon; so he turned about and went into the Hall,
and there found his shield and his spear hanging in his sleeping place
beside the hauberk he was wont to wear; then he looked, as one striving
with thought, at his empty hauberk and his own body covered with the
dwarf-wrought rings; nor did his face change as he took his shield and
his spear and turned away.  Then he went to the dais and there
sat his foster-daughter (as men deemed her) sitting amidst of it as
yester-eve, and now arrayed in a garment of fine white wool, on the
breast whereof were wrought in gold two beasts ramping up against a
fire-altar whereon a flame flickered; and on the skirts and the hems
were other devices, of wolves chasing deer, and men shooting with the
bow; and that garment was an ancient treasure; but she had a broad girdle
of gold and gems about her middle, and on her arms and neck she wore
great gold rings wrought delicately.  By then there were few save
the Hall-Sun under the Roof, and they but the oldest of the women, or
a few very old men, and some who were ailing and might not go abroad. 
But before her on the thwart table lay the Great War-horn awaiting the
coming of Thiodolf to give signal of departure.
Then went Thiodolf to the Hall-Sun and kissed and embraced her fondly,
and she gave the horn into his hands, and he went forth and up on to
the Hill of Speech, and blew thence a short blast on the horn, and then
came all the Warriors flocking to the Hill of Speech, each man stark
in his harness, alert and joyous.
Then presently through the Man’s-door came the Hall-Sun in
that ancient garment, which fell straight and stiff down to her ancles
as she stepped lightly and slowly along, her head crowned with a garland
of eglantine.  In her right hand also she held a great torch of
wax lighted, whose flame amidst the bright sunlight looked like a wavering
leaf of vermilion.
The warriors saw her, and made a lane for her, and she made her way
through it up to the Hill of Speech, and she went up to the top of it
and stood there holding the lighted candle in her hand, so that all
might see it.  Then suddenly was there as great a silence as there
may be on a forenoon of summer; for even the thralls down in the meadow
had noted what was toward, and ceased their talking and shouting, for
as far off as they were, since they could see that the Hall-Sun stood
on the Hill of Speech, for the wood was dark behind her; so they knew
the Farewell Flame was lighted, and that the maiden would speak; and
to all men her speech was a boding of good or of ill.
So she began in a sweet voice yet clear and far-reaching:
 “O Warriors of the Wolfings by the token of the
flame
That here in my right hand flickers, come aback to the House of the
Name!
For there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing roof,
And this flame is litten from it, nor as now shall it fare aloof
Till again it seeth the mighty and the men to be gleaned from the fight.
So wend ye as weird willeth and let your hearts be light;
For through your days of battle all the deeds of our days shall be fair.
To-morrow beginneth the haysel, as if every carle were here;
And who knoweth ere your returning but the hook shall smite the corn?
But the kine shall go down to the meadow as their wont is every morn,
And each eve shall come back to the byre; and the mares and foals afield
Shall ever be heeded duly; and all things shall their increase yield.
And if it shall befal us that hither cometh a foe
Here have we swains of the shepherds good players with the bow,
And old men battle-crafty whose might is nowise spent,
And women fell and fearless well wont to tread the bent
Amid the sheep and the oxen; and their hands are hard with the spear
And their arms are strong and stalwart the battle shield to bear;
And store of weapons have we and the mighty walls of the stead;
And the Roof shall abide you steadfast with the Hall-Sun overhead.
Lo here I quench this candle that is lit from the Hall-Sun’s flame
Which unto the Wild-wood clearing with the kin of the Wolfings came
And shall wend with their departure to the limits of the earth;
Nor again shall the torch be lighted till in sorrow or in mirth,
Overthrown or overthrowing, ye come aback once more,
And bid me bear the candle before the Wolf of War.”
As she spake the word she turned the candle downward, and thrust
it against the grass and quenched it indeed; but the whole throng of
warriors turned about, for the bulls of the banner-wain lowered their
heads in the yokes and began to draw, lowing mightily; and the wain
creaked and moved on, and all the men-at-arms followed after, and down
they went through the lanes of the corn, and a many women and children
and old men went down into the mead with them.
In their hearts they all wondered what the Hall-Sun’s words
might signify; for she had told them nought about the battles to be,
saving that some should come back to the Mid-mark; whereas aforetime
somewhat would she foretell to them concerning the fortune of the fight,
and now had she said to them nothing but what their own hearts told
them.  Nevertheless they bore their crests high as they followed
the Wolf down into the meadow, where all was now ready for departure. 
There they arrayed themselves and went down to the lip of Mirkwood-water;
and such was their array that the banner went first, save that a band
of fully armed men went before it; and behind it and about were the
others as well arrayed as they.  Then went the wains that bore
their munition, with armed carles of the thrall-folk about them, who
were ever the guard of the wains, and should never leave them night
or day; and lastly went the great band of the warriors and the rest
of the thralls with them.
As to their war-gear, all the freemen had helms of some kind, but
not all of iron or steel; for some bore helms fashioned of horse-hide
and bull-hide covered over with the similitude of a Wolf’s muzzle;
nor were these ill-defence against a sword-stroke.  Shields they
all had, and all these had the image of the Wolf marked on them, but
for many their thralls bore them on the journey.  As to their body-armour
some carried long byrnies of ring-mail, some coats of leather covered
with splinters of horn laid like the shingles of a roof, and some skin-coats
only: whereof indeed there were some of which tales went that they were
better than the smith’s hammer-work, because they had had spells
sung over them to keep out steel or iron.
But for their weapons, they bore spears with shafts not very long,
some eight feet of our measure; and axes heavy and long-shafted; and
bills with great and broad heads; and some few, but not many of the
kindred were bowmen, and every freeman was girt with a sword; but of
the swords some were long and two-edged, some short and heavy, cutting
on one edge, and these were of the kind which they and our forefathers
long after called ‘sax.’  Thus were the freemen arrayed.
But for the thralls, there were many bows among them, especially
among those who were of blood alien from the Goths; the others bore
short spears, and feathered broad arrows, and clubs bound with iron,
and knives and axes, but not every man of them had a sword.  Few
iron helms they had and no ringed byrnies, but most had a buckler at
their backs with no sign or symbol on it.
Thus then set forth the fighting men of the House of the Wolf toward
the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark where the hosting was to be, and by
then they were moving up along the side of Mirkwood-water it was somewhat
past high-noon.
But the stay-at-home people who had come down with them to the meadow
lingered long in that place; and much foreboding there was among them
of evil to come; and of the old folk, some remembered tales of the past
days of the Markmen, and how they had come from the ends of the earth,
and the mountains where none dwell now but the Gods of their kindreds;
and many of these tales told of their woes and their wars as they went
from river to river and from wild-wood to wild-wood before they had
established their Houses in the Mark, and fallen to dwelling there season
by season and year by year whether the days were good or ill. 
And it fell into their hearts that now at last mayhappen was their abiding
wearing out to an end, and that the day should soon be when they should
have to bear the Hall-Sun through the wild-wood, and seek a new dwelling-place
afar from the troubling of these newly arisen Welsh foemen.
And so those of them who could not rid themselves of this foreboding
were somewhat heavier of heart than their wont was when the House went
to the War.  For long had they abided there in the Mark, and the
life was sweet to them which they knew, and the life which they knew
not was bitter to them: and Mirkwood-water was become as a God to them
no less than to their fathers of old time; nor lesser was the mead where
fed the horses that they loved and the kine that they had reared, and
the sheep that they guarded from the Wolf of the Wild-wood: and they
worshipped the kind acres which they themselves and their fathers had
made fruitful, wedding them to the seasons of seed-time and harvest,
that the birth that came from them might become a part of the kindred
of the Wolf, and the joy and might of past springs and summers might
run in the blood of the Wolfing children.  And a dear God indeed
to them was the Roof of the Kindred, that their fathers had built and
that they yet warded against the fire and the lightening and the wind
and the snow, and the passing of the days that devour and the years
that heap the dust over the work of men.  They thought of how it
had stood, and seen so many generations of men come and go; how often
it had welcomed the new-born babe, and given farewell to the old man:
how many secrets of the past it knew; how many tales which men of the
present had forgotten, but which yet mayhap men of times to come should
learn of it; for to them yet living it had spoken time and again, and
had told them what their fathers had not told them, and it held the
memories of the generations and the very life of the Wolfings and their
hopes for the days to be.
Thus these poor people thought of the Gods whom they worshipped,
and the friends whom they loved, and could not choose but be heavy-hearted
when they thought that the wild-wood was awaiting them to swallow all
up, and take away from them their Gods and their friends and the mirth
of their life, and burden them with hunger and thirst and weariness,
that their children might begin once more to build the House and establish
the dwelling, and call new places by old names, and worship new Gods
with the ancient worship.
Such imaginations of trouble then were in the hearts of the stay-at-homes
of the Wolfings; the tale tells not indeed that all had such forebodings,
but chiefly the old folk who were nursing the end of their life-days
amidst the cherishing Kindred of the House.
But now they were beginning to turn them back again to the habitations,
and a thin stream was flowing through the acres, when they heard a confused
sound drawing near blended of horns and the lowing of beasts and the
shouting of men; and they looked and saw a throng of brightly clad men
coming up stream alongside of Mirkwood-water; and they were not afraid,
for they knew that it must be some other company of the Markmen journeying
to the hosting of the Folk: and presently they saw that it was the House
of the Beamings following their banner on the way to the Thing-stead. 
But when the new-comers saw the throng out in the meads, some of their
young men pricked on their horses and galloped on past the women and
old men, to whom they threw a greeting, as they ran past to catch up
with the bands of the Wolfings; for between the two houses was there
affinity, and much good liking lay between them; and the stay-at-homes,
many of them, lingered yet till the main body of the Beamings came with
their banner: and their array was much like to that of the Wolfings,
but gayer; for whereas it pleased the latter to darken all their war-gear
to the colour of the grey Wolf, the Beamings polished all their gear
as bright as might be, and their raiment also was mostly bright green
of hue and much beflowered; and the sign on their banner was a green
leafy tree, and the wain was drawn by great white bulls.
So when their company drew anear to the throng of the stay-at-homes
they went to meet and greet each other, and tell tidings to each other;
but their banner held steadily onward amidst their converse, and in
a little while they followed it, for the way was long to the Thing-stead
of the Upper-mark.
So passed away the fighting men by the side of Mirkwood-water, and
the throng of the stay-at-homes melted slowly from the meadow and trickled
along through the acres to the habitations of the Wolfings, and there
they fell to doing whatso of work or play came to their hands.
CHAPTER V—CONCERNING THE HALL-SUN
When the warriors and the others had gone down to the mead, the Hall-Sun
was left standing on the Hill of Speech, and she stood there till she
saw the host in due array going on its ways dark and bright and beautiful;
then she made as if to turn aback to the Great Roof; but all at once
it seemed to her as if something held her back, as if her will to move
had departed from her, and that she could not put one foot before the
other.  So she lingered on the Hill, and the quenched candle fell
from her hand, and presently she sank adown on the grass and sat there
with the face of one thinking intently.  Yet was it with her that
a thousand thoughts were in her mind at once and no one of them uppermost,
and images of what had been and what then was flickered about in her
brain, and betwixt them were engendered images of things to be, but
unstable and not to be trowed in.  So sat the Hall-Sun on the Hill
of Speech lost in a dream of the day, whose stories were as little clear
as those of a night-dream.
But as she sat musing thus, came to her a woman exceeding old to
look on, whom she knew not as one of the kindred or a thrall; and this
carline greeted her by the name of Hall-Sun and said:
 “Hail, Hall-Sun of the Markmen! how fares it now
with thee
When the whelps of the Woodbeast wander with the Leafage of the Tree
All up the Mirkwood-water to seek what they shall find,
The oak-boles of the battle and the war-wood stark and blind?”
Then answered the maiden:
 “It fares with me, O mother, that my soul would
fain go forth
To behold the ways of the battle, and the praise of the warriors’
worth.
But yet is it held entangled in a maze of many a thing,
As the low-grown bramble holdeth the brake-shoots of the Spring.
I think of the thing that hath been, but no shape is in my thought;
I think of the day that passeth, and its story comes to nought.
I think of the days that shall be, nor shape I any tale.
I will hearken thee, O mother, if hearkening may avail.”
The Carline gazed at her with dark eyes that shone brightly from
amidst her brown wrinkled face: then she sat herself down beside her
and spake:
 “From a far folk have I wandered and I come of
an alien blood,
But I know all tales of the Wolfings and their evil and their good;
And when I heard of thy fairness, thereof I heard it said,
That for thee should be never a bridal nor a place in the warrior’s
bed.”
The maiden neither reddened nor paled, but looking with calm steady
eyes into the Carline’s face she answered:
 “Yea true it is, I am wedded to the mighty ones
of old,
And the fathers of the Wolfings ere the days of field and fold.”
Then a smile came into the eyes of the old woman and she said.
 “How glad shall be thy mother of thy worship and
thy worth,
And the father that begat thee if yet they dwell on earth!”
But the Hall-Sun answered in the same steady manner as before:
 “None knoweth who is my mother, nor my very father’s
name;
But when to the House of the Wolfings a wild-wood waif I came,
They gave me a foster-mother an ancient dame and good,
And a glorious foster-father the best of all the blood.”
Spake the Carline.
 “Yea, I have heard the story, but scarce therein
might I trow
That thou with all thy beauty wert born ’neath the oaken bough,
And hast crawled a naked baby o’er the rain-drenched autumn-grass;
Wilt thou tell the wandering woman what wise it cometh to pass
That thou art the Mid-mark’s Hall-Sun, and the sign of the Wolfings’
gain?
Thou shalt pleasure me much by the telling, and there of shalt thou
be fain.”
Then answered the Hall-Sun.
 “Yea; thus much I remember for the first of my
memories;
That I lay on the grass in the morning and above were the boughs of
the trees.
But nought naked was I as the wood-whelp, but clad in linen white,
And adown the glades of the oakwood the morning sun lay bright.
Then a hind came out of the thicket and stood on the sunlit glade,
And turned her head toward the oak tree and a step on toward me made.
Then stopped, and bounded aback, and away as if in fear,
That I saw her no more; then I wondered, though sitting close anear
Was a she-wolf great and grisly.  But with her was I wont to play,
And pull her ears, and belabour her rugged sides and grey,
And hold her jaws together, while she whimpered, slobbering
For the love of my love; and nowise I deemed her a fearsome thing.
There she sat as though she were watching, and o’er head a blue-winged
jay
Shrieked out from the topmost oak-twigs, and a squirrel ran his way
Two tree-trunks off.  But the she-wolf arose up suddenly
And growled with her neck-fell bristling, as if danger drew anigh;
And therewith I heard a footstep, for nice was my ear to catch
All the noises of the wild-wood; so there did we sit at watch
While the sound of feet grew nigher: then I clapped hand on hand
And crowed for joy and gladness, for there out in the sun did stand
A man, a glorious creature with a gleaming helm on his head,
And gold rings on his arms, in raiment gold-broidered crimson-red.
Straightway he strode up toward us nor heeded the wolf of the wood
But sang as he went in the oak-glade, as a man whose thought is good,
And nought she heeded the warrior, but tame as a sheep was grown,
And trotted away through the wild-wood with her crest all laid adown.
Then came the man and sat down by the oak-bole close unto me
And took me up nought fearful and set me on his knee.
And his face was kind and lovely, so my cheek to his cheek I laid
And touched his cold bright war-helm and with his gold rings played,
And hearkened his words, though I knew not what tale they had to tell,
Yet fain was my heart of their music, and meseemed I loved him well.
So we fared for a while and were fain, till he set down my feet on the
grass,
And kissed me and stood up himself, and away through the wood did he
pass.
And then came back the she-wolf and with her I played and was fain.
Lo the first thing I remember: wilt thou have me babble again?”
Spake the Carline and her face was soft and kind:
 “Nay damsel, long would I hearken to thy voice
this summer day.
But how didst thou leave the wild-wood, what people brought thee away?”
Then said the Hall-Sun:
 “I awoke on a time in the even, and voices I heard
as I woke;
And there was I in the wild-wood by the bole of the ancient oak,
And a ring of men was around me, and glad was I indeed
As I looked upon their faces and the fashion of their weed.
For I gazed on the red and the scarlet and the beaten silver and gold,
And blithe were their noble faces and kindly to behold,
And nought had I seen of such-like since that hour of the other day
When that warrior came to the oak glade with the little child to play.
And forth now he came, with the face that my hands had fondled before,
And a battle shield wrought fairly upon his arm he bore,
And thereon the wood-wolf’s image in ruddy gold was done.
Then I stretched out my little arms towards the glorious shining one
And he took me up and set me on his shoulder for a while
And turned about to his fellows with a blithe and joyous smile;
And they shouted aloud about me and drew forth gleaming swords
And clashed them on their bucklers; but nought I knew of the words
Of their shouting and rejoicing.  So thereafter was I laid
And borne forth on the warrior’s warshield, and our way through
the wood we made
’Midst the mirth and great contentment of those fair-clad shielded
men.
“But no tale of the wolf and the wild-wood abides with me since
then,
And the next thing I remember is a huge and dusky hall,
A world for my little body from ancient wall to wall;
A world of many doings, and nought for me to do,
A world of many noises, and known to me were few.
“Time wore, and I spoke with the Wolfings and knew the speech
of the kin,
And was strange ’neath the roof no longer, as a lonely waif therein;
And I wrought as a child with my playmates and every hour looked on
Unto the next hour’s joyance till the happy day was done.
And going and coming amidst us was a woman tall and thin
With hair like the hoary barley and silver streaks therein.
And kind and sad of visage, as now I remember me,
And she sat and told us stories when we were aweary with glee,
And many of us she fondled, but me the most of all.
And once from my sleep she waked me and bore me down the hall,
In the hush of the very midnight, and I was feared thereat.
But she brought me unto the dais, and there the warrior sat,
Who took me up and kissed me, as erst within the wood;
And meseems in his arms I slumbered: but I wakened again and stood
Alone with the kindly woman, and gone was the goodly man,
And athwart the hush of the Folk-hall the moon shone bright and wan,
And the woman dealt with a lamp hung up by a chain aloft,
And she trimmed it and fed it with oil, while she chanted sweet and
soft
A song whose words I knew not: then she ran it up again,
And up in the darkness above us died the length of its wavering chain.”
“Yea,” said the carline, “this woman will have
been the Hall-Sun that came before thee.  What next dost thou remember?”
Said the maiden:
 “Next I mind me of the hazels behind the People’s
Roof,
And the children running thither and the magpie flitting aloof,
And my hand in the hand of the Hall-Sun, as after the others we went,
And she soberly hearkening my prattle and the words of my intent.
And now would I call her ‘Mother,’ and indeed I loved her
well.
“So I waxed; and now of my memories the tale were long to tell;
But as the days passed over, and I fared to field and wood,
Alone or with my playmates, still the days were fair and good.
But the sad and kindly Hall-Sun for my fosterer now I knew,
And the great and glorious warrior that my heart clung sorely to
Was but my foster-father; and I knew that I had no kin
In the ancient House of the Wolfings, though love was warm therein.”
Then smiled the carline and said: “Yea, he is thy foster-father,
and yet a fond one.”
“Sooth is that,” said the Hall-Sun.  “But
wise art thou by seeming.  Hast thou come to tell me of what kindred
I am, and who is my father and who is my mother?”
Said the carline: “Art thou not also wise?  Is it not
so that the Hall-Sun of the Wolfings seeth things that are to come?”
“Yea,” she said, “yet have I seen waking or sleeping
no other father save my foster-father; yet my very mother I have seen,
as one who should meet her in the flesh one day.”
“And good is that,” said the carline; and as she spoke
her face waxed kinder, and she said:
“Tell us more of thy days in the House of the Wolfings and
how thou faredst there.”
Said the Hall-Sun:
 “I waxed ’neath the Roof of the Wolfings,
till now to look upon
I was of sixteen winters, and the love of the Folk I won,
And in lovely weed they clad me like the image of a God:
And lonely now full often the wild-wood ways I trod,
And I feared no wild-wood creature, and my presence scared them nought;
And I fell to know of wisdom, and within me stirred my thought,
So that oft anights would I wander through the mead and far away,
And swim the Mirkwood-water, and amidst his eddies play
When earth was dark in the dawn-tide; and over all the folk
I knew of the beasts’ desires, as though in words they spoke.
“So I saw of things that should be, were they mighty things
or small,
And upon a day as it happened came the war-word to the hall,
And the House must wend to the warfield, and as they sang, and played
With the strings of the harp that even, and the mirth of the war-eve
made,
Came the sight of the field to my eyes, and the words waxed hot in me,
And I needs must show the picture of the end of the fight to be.
Then I showed them the Red Wolf bristling o’er the broken fleeing
foe;
And the war-gear of the fleers, and their banner did I show,
To wit the Ling-worm’s image with the maiden in his mouth;
There I saw my foster-father ’mid the pale blades of the South,
Till aloof swept all the handplay and the hurry of the chase,
And he lay along by an ash-tree, no helm about his face,
No byrny on his body; and an arrow in his thigh,
And a broken spear in his shoulder.  Then I saw myself draw nigh
To sing the song blood-staying.  Then saw I how we twain
Went ’midst of the host triumphant in the Wolfings’ banner-wain,
The black bulls lowing before us athwart the warriors’ song,
As up from Mirkwood-water we went our ways along
To the Great Roof of the Wolfings, whence streamed the women out
And the sound of their rejoicing blent with the warriors’ shout.
“They heard me and saw the picture, and they wotted how wise
I was grown,
And they loved me, and glad were their hearts at the tale my lips had
shown;
And my body clad as an image of a God to the field they bore,
And I held by the mast of the banner as I looked upon their war,
And endured to see unblenching on the wind-swept sunny plain
All the picture of my vision by the men-folk done again.
And over my Foster-father I sang the staunching-song,
Till the life-blood that was ebbing flowed back to his heart the strong,
And we wended back in the war-wain ’midst the gleanings of the
fight
Unto the ancient dwelling and the Hall-Sun’s glimmering light.
“So from that day henceforward folk hung upon my words,
For the battle of the autumn, and the harvest of the swords;
And e’en more was I loved than aforetime.  So wore a year
away,
And heavy was the burden of the lore that on me lay.
“But my fosterer the Hall-Sun took sick at the birth of the
year,
And changed her life as the year changed, as summer drew anear.
But she knew that her life was waning, and lying in her bed
She taught me the lore of the Hall-Sun, and every word to be said
At the trimming in the midnight and the feeding in the morn,
And she laid her hands upon me ere unto the howe she was borne
With the kindred gathered about us; and they wotted her weird and her
will,
And hailed me for the Hall-Sun when at last she lay there still.
And they did on me the garment, the holy cloth of old,
And the neck-chain wrought for the goddess, and the rings of the hallowed
gold.
So here am I abiding, and of things to be I tell,
Yet know not what shall befall me nor why with the Wolfings I dwell.”
Then said the carline:
 “What seest thou, O daughter, of the journey of
to-day?
And why wendest thou not with the war-host on the battle-echoing way?”
Said the Hall-Sun.
 “O mother, here dwelleth the Hall-Sun while the
kin hath a dwelling-place,
Nor ever again shall I look on the onset or the chase,
Till the day when the Roof of the Wolfings looketh down on the girdle
of foes,
And the arrow singeth over the grass of the kindred’s close;
Till the pillars shake with the shouting and quivers the roof-tree dear,
When the Hall of the Wolfings garners the harvest of the spear.”
Therewith she stood on her feet and turned her face to the Great
Roof, and gazed long at it, not heeding the crone by her side; and she
muttered words of whose signification the other knew not, though she
listened intently, and gazed ever at her as closely as might be.
Then fell the Hall-Sun utterly silent, and the lids closed over her
eyes, and her hands were clenched, and her feet pressed hard on the
daisies: her bosom heaved with sore sighs, and great tear-drops oozed
from under her eyelids and fell on to her raiment and her feet and on
to the flowery summer grass; and at the last her mouth opened and she
spake, but in a voice that was marvellously changed from that she spake
in before:
 “Why went ye forth, O Wolfings, from the garth
your fathers built,
And the House where sorrow dieth, and all unloosed is guilt?
Turn back, turn back, and behold it! lest your feet be over slow
When your shields are heavy-burdened with the arrows of the foe;
How ye totter, how ye stumble on the rough and corpse-strewn way!
And lo, how the eve is eating the afternoon of day!
O why are ye abiding till the sun is sunk in night
And the forest trees are ruddy with the battle-kindled light?
O rest not yet, ye Wolfings, lest void be your resting-place,
And into lands that ye know not the Wolf must turn his face,
And ye wander and ye wander till the land in the ocean cease,
And your battle bring no safety and your labour no increase.”
Then was she silent for a while, and her tears ceased to flow; but
presently her eyes opened once more, and she lifted up her voice and
cried aloud—
 “I see, I see!  O Godfolk behold it from aloof,
How the little flames steal flickering along the ridge of the Roof!
They are small and red ’gainst the heavens in the summer afternoon;
But when the day is dusking, white, high shall they wave to the moon.
Lo, the fire plays now on the windows like strips of scarlet cloth
Wind-waved! but look in the night-tide on the onset of its wrath,
How it wraps round the ancient timbers and hides the mighty roof
But lighteth little crannies, so lost and far aloof,
That no man yet of the kindred hath seen them ere to-night,
Since first the builder builded in loving and delight!”
Then again she stayed her speech with weeping and sobbing, but after
a while was still again, and then she spoke pointing toward the roof
with her right hand.
 “I see the fire-raisers and iron-helmed they are,
Brown-faced about the banners that their hands have borne afar.
And who in the garth of the kindred shall bear adown their shield
Since the onrush of the Wolfings they caught in the open field,
As the might of the mountain lion falls dead in the hempen net?
O Wolfings, long have ye tarried, but the hour abideth yet.
What life for the life of the people shall be given once for all,
What sorrow shall stay sorrow in the half-burnt Wolfing Hall?
There is nought shall quench the fire save the tears of the Godfolk’s
kin,
And the heart of the life-delighter, and the life-blood cast therein.”
Then once again she fell silent, and her eyes closed again, and the
slow tears gushed out from them, and she sank down sobbing on the grass,
and little by little the storm of grief sank and her head fell back,
and she was as one quietly asleep.  Then the carline hung over
her and kissed her and embraced her; and then through her closed eyes
and her slumber did the Hall-Sun see a marvel; for she who was kissing
her was young in semblance and unwrinkled, and lovely to look on, with
plenteous long hair of the hue of ripe barley, and clad in glistening
raiment such as has been woven in no loom on earth.
And indeed it was the Wood-Sun in the semblance of a crone, who had
come to gather wisdom of the coming time from the foreseeing of the
Hall-Sun; since now at last she herself foresaw nothing of it, though
she was of the kindred of the Gods and the Fathers of the Goths. 
So when she had heard the Hall-Sun she deemed that she knew but too
well what her words meant, and what for love, what for sorrow, she grew
sick at heart as she heard them.
So at last she arose and turned to look at the Great Roof; and strong
and straight, and cool and dark grey showed its ridge against the pale
sky of the summer afternoon all quivering with the heat of many hours’
sun: dark showed its windows as she gazed on it, and stark and stiff
she knew were its pillars within.
Then she said aloud, but to herself: “What then if a merry
and mighty life be given for it, and the sorrow of the people be redeemed;
yet will not I give the life which is his; nay rather let him give the
bliss which is mine.  But oh! how may it be that he shall die joyous
and I shall live unhappy!”
Then she went slowly down from the Hill of Speech, and whoso saw
her deemed her but a gangrel carline.  So she went her ways and
let the wood cover her.
But in a little while the Hall-Sun awoke alone, and sat up with a
sigh, and she remembered nothing concerning her sight of the flickering
flame along the hall-roof, and the fire-tongues like strips of scarlet
cloth blown by the wind, nor had she any memory of her words concerning
the coming day.  But the rest of her talk with the carline she
remembered, and also the vision of the beautiful woman who had kissed
and embraced her; and she knew that it was her very mother.  Also
she perceived that she had been weeping, therefore she knew that she
had uttered words of wisdom.  For so it fared with her at whiles,
that she knew not her own words of foretelling, but spoke them out as
if in a dream.
So now she went down from the Hill of Speech soberly, and turned
toward the Woman’s door of the hall, and on her way she met the
women and old men and youths coming back from the meadow with little
mirth: and there were many of them who looked shyly at her as though
they would gladly have asked her somewhat, and yet durst not. 
But for her, her sadness passed away when she came among them, and she
looked kindly on this and that one of them, and entered with them into
the Woman’s Chamber, and did what came to her hand to do.
CHAPTER VI—THEY TALK ON THE WAY TO THE FOLK-THING
All day long one standing on the Speech-hill of the Wolfings might
have seen men in their war-array streaming along the side of Mirkwood-water,
on both sides thereof; and the last comers from the Nether-mark came
hastening all they might; for they would not be late at the trysting-place. 
But these were of a kindred called the Laxings, who bore a salmon on
their banner; and they were somewhat few in number, for they had but
of late years become a House of the Markmen.  Their banner-wain
was drawn by white horses, fleet and strong, and they were no great
band, for they had but few thralls with them, and all, free men and
thralls, were a-horseback; so they rode by hastily with their banner-wain,
their few munition-wains following as they might.
Now tells the tale of the men-at-arms of the Wolfings and the Beamings,
that soon they fell in with the Elking host, which was journeying but
leisurely, so that the Wolfings might catch up with them: they were
a very great kindred, the most numerous of all Mid-mark, and at this
time they had affinity with the Wolfings.  But old men of the House
remembered how they had heard their grandsires and very old men tell
that there had been a time when the Elking House had been established
by men from out of the Wolfing kindred, and how they had wandered away
from the Mark in the days when it had been first settled, and had abided
aloof for many generations of men; and so at last had come back again
to the Mark, and had taken up their habitation at a place in Mid-mark
where was dwelling but a remnant of a House called the Thyrings, who
had once been exceeding mighty, but had by that time almost utterly
perished in a great sickness which befel in those days.  So then
these two Houses, the wanderers come back and the remnant left by the
sickness of the Gods, made one House together, and increased and throve
after their coming together, and wedded with the Wolfings, and became
a very great House.
Gallant and glorious was their array now, as they marched along with
their banner of the Elk, which was drawn by the very beasts themselves
tamed to draught to that end through many generations; they were fatter
and sleeker than their wild-wood brethren, but not so mighty.
So were the men of the three kindreds somewhat mingled together on
the way.  The Wolfings were the tallest and the biggest made; but
of those dark-haired men aforesaid, were there fewest amongst the Beamings,
and most among the Elkings, as though they had drawn to them more men
of alien blood during their wanderings aforesaid.  So they talked
together and made each other good cheer, as is the wont of companions
in arms on the eve of battle; and the talk ran, as may be deemed, on
that journey and what was likely to come of it: and spake an Elking
warrior to a Wolfing by whom he rode:
“O Wolfkettle, hath the Hall-Sun had any foresight of the day
of battle?”
“Nay,” said the other, “when she lighted the farewell
candle, she bade us come back again, and spoke of the day of our return;
but that methinks, as thou and I would talk of it, thinking what would
be likely to befal.  Since we are a great host of valiant men,
and these Welshmen   {2}
most valiant, and as the rumour runneth bigger-bodied men than the Hun-folk,
and so well ordered as never folk have been.  So then if we overthrow
them we shall come back again; and if they overthrow us, the remnant
of us shall fall back before them till we come to our habitations; for
it is not to be looked for that they will fall in upon our rear and
prevent us, since we have the thicket of the wild-wood on our flanks.”
“Sooth is that,” said the Elking; “and as to the
mightiness of this folk and their customs, ye may gather somewhat from
the songs which our House yet singeth, and which ye have heard wide
about in the Mark; for this is the same folk of which a many of them
tell, making up that story-lay which is called the South-Welsh Lay;
which telleth how we have met this folk in times past when we were in
fellowship with a folk of the Welsh of like customs to ourselves: for
we of the Elkings were then but a feeble folk.  So we marched with
this folk of the Kymry and met the men of the cities, and whiles we
overthrew and whiles were overthrown, but at last in a great battle
were overthrown with so great a slaughter, that the red blood rose over
the wheels of the wains, and the city-folk fainted with the work of
the slaughter, as men who mow a match in the meadows when the swathes
are dry and heavy and the afternoon of midsummer is hot; and there they
stood and stared on the field of the slain, and knew not whether they
were in Home or Hell, so fierce the fight had been.”
Therewith a man of the Beamings, who was riding on the other side
of the Elking, reached out over his horse’s neck and said:
“Yea friend, but is there not some telling of a tale concerning
how ye and your fellowship took the great city of the Welshmen of the
South, and dwelt there long.”
“Yea,” said the Elking, “Hearken how it is told
in the South-Welsh Lay:
    “‘Have ye not heard
   Of the ways of Weird?
   How the folk fared forth
   Far away from the North?
   And as light as one wendeth
   Whereas the wood endeth,
   When of nought is our need,
   And none telleth our deed,
So Rodgeir unwearied and Reidfari wan
The town where none tarried the shield-shaking man.
All lonely the street there, and void was the way
And nought hindered our feet but the dead men that lay
Under shield in the lanes of the houses heavens-high,
All the ring-bearing swains that abode there to die.’
“Tells the Lay, that none abode the Goths and their fellowship,
but such as were mighty enough to fall before them, and the rest, both
man and woman, fled away before our folk and before the folk of the
Kymry, and left their town for us to dwell in; as saith the Lay:
    “‘Glistening of gold
   Did men’s eyen behold;
   Shook the pale sword
   O’er the unspoken word,
   No man drew nigh us
   With weapon to try us,
   For the Welsh-wrought shield
   Lay low on the field.
By man’s hand unbuilded all seemed there to be,
The walls ruddy gilded, the pearls of the sea:
Yea all things were dead there save pillar and wall,
But they lived and they said us the song of the hall;
The dear hall left to perish by men of the land,
For the Goth-folk to cherish with gold gaining hand.’
“See ye how the Lay tells that the hall was bolder than the
men, who fled from it, and left all for our fellowship to deal with
in the days gone by?”
Said the Wolfing man:
“And as it was once, so shall it be again.  Maybe we shall
go far on this journey, and see at least one of the garths of the Southlands,
even those which they call cities.  For I have heard it said that
they have more cities than one only, and that so great are their kindreds,
that each liveth in a garth full of mighty houses, with a wall of stone
and lime around it; and that in every one of these garths lieth wealth
untold heaped up.  And wherefore should not all this fall to the
Markmen and their valiancy?”
Said the Elking:
“As to their many cities and the wealth of them, that is sooth;
but as to each city being the habitation of each kindred, it is otherwise:
for rather it may be said of them that they have forgotten kindred,
and have none, nor do they heed whom they wed, and great is the confusion
amongst them.  And mighty men among them ordain where they shall
dwell, and what shall be their meat, and how long they shall labour
after they are weary, and in all wise what manner of life shall be amongst
them; and though they be called free men who suffer this, yet may no
house or kindred gainsay this rule and order.  In sooth they are
a people mighty, but unhappy.”
Said Wolfkettle:
“And hast thou learned all this from the ancient story lays,
O Hiarandi?  For some of them I know, though not all, and therein
have I noted nothing of all this.  Is there some new minstrel arisen
in thine House of a memory excelling all those that have gone before? 
If that be so, I bid him to the Roof of the Wolfings as soon as may
be; for we lack new tales.”
“Nay,” said Hiarandi, “This that I tell thee is
not a tale of past days, but a tale of to-day.  For there came
to us a man from out of the wild-wood, and prayed us peace, and we gave
it him; and he told us that he was of a House of the Gael, and that
his House had been in a great battle against these Welshmen, whom he
calleth the Romans; and that he was taken in the battle, and sold as
a thrall in one of their garths; and howbeit, it was not their master-garth,
yet there he learned of their customs: and sore was the lesson! 
Hard was his life amongst them, for their thralls be not so well entreated
as their draught-beasts, so many do they take in battle; for they are
a mighty folk; and these thralls and those aforesaid unhappy freemen
do all tilling and herding and all deeds of craftsmanship: and above
these are men whom they call masters and lords who do nought, nay not
so much as smithy their own edge-weapons, but linger out their days
in their dwellings and out of their dwellings, lying about in the sun
or the hall-cinders, like cur-dogs who have fallen away from kind.
“So this man made a shift to flee away from out of that garth,
since it was not far from the great river; and being a valiant man,
and young and mighty of body, he escaped all perils and came to us through
the Mirkwood.  But we saw that he was no liar, and had been very
evilly handled, for upon his body was the mark of many a stripe, and
of the shackles that had been soldered on to his limbs; also it was
more than one of these accursed people whom he had slain when he fled. 
So he became our guest and we loved him, and he dwelt among us and yet
dwelleth, for we have taken him into our House.  But yesterday
he was sick and might not ride with us; but may be he will follow on
and catch up with us in a day or two.  And if he come not, then
will I bring him over to the Wolfings when the battle is done.”
Then laughed the Beaming man, and spake:
“How then if ye come not back, nor Wolfkettle, nor the Welsh
Guest, nor I myself?  Meseemeth no one of these Southland Cities
shall we behold, and no more of the Southlanders than their war-array.”
“These are evil words,” said Wolfkettle, “though
such an outcome must be thought on.  But why deemest thou this?”
Said the Beaming: “There is no Hall-Sun sitting under our Roof
at home to tell true tales concerning the Kindred every day.  Yet
forsooth from time to time is a word said in our Folk-hall for good
or for evil; and who can choose but hearken thereto?  And yestereve
was a woeful word spoken, and that by a man-child of ten winters.”
Said the Elking: “Now that thou hast told us thus much, thou
must tell us more, yea, all the word which was spoken; else belike we
shall deem of it as worse than it was.”
Said the Beaming: “Thus it was; this little lad brake out weeping
yestereve, when the Hall was full and feasting; and he wailed, and roared
out, as children do, and would not be pacified, and when he was asked
why he made that to do, he said: ‘Well away!  Raven hath
promised to make me a clay horse and to bake it in the kiln with the
pots next week; and now he goeth to the war, and he shall never come
back, and never shall my horse be made.’  Thereat we all
laughed as ye may well deem.  But the lad made a sour countenance
on us and said, ‘why do ye laugh? look yonder, what see ye?’ 
‘Nay,’ said one, ‘nought but the Feast-hall wall and
the hangings of the High-tide thereon.’  Then said the lad
sobbing: ‘Ye see ill: further afield see I: I see a little plain,
on a hill top, and fells beyond it far bigger than our speech-hill:
and there on the plain lieth Raven as white as parchment; and none hath
such hue save the dead.’  Then said Raven, (and he was a
young man, and was standing thereby).  ‘And well is that,
swain, to die in harness!  Yet hold up thine heart; here is Gunbert
who shall come back and bake thine horse for thee.’  ‘Nay
never more,’ quoth the child, ‘For I see his pale head lying
at Raven’s feet; but his body with the green gold-broidered kirtle
I see not.’  Then was the laughter stilled, and man after
man drew near to the child, and questioned him, and asked, ‘dost
thou see me?’ ‘dost thou see me?’  And he failed
to see but few of those that asked him.  Therefore now meseemeth
that not many of us shall see the cities of the South, and those few
belike shall look on their own shackles therewithal.”
“Nay,” said Hiarandi, “What is all this? heard
ye ever of a company of fighting men that fared afield, and found the
foe, and came back home leaving none behind them?”
Said the Beaming: “Yet seldom have I heard a child foretell
the death of warriors.  I tell thee that hadst thou been there,
thou wouldst have thought of it as if the world were coming to an end.”
“Well,” said Wolfkettle, “let it be as it may! 
Yet at least I will not be led away from the field by the foemen. 
Oft may a man be hindered of victory, but never of death if he willeth
it.”
Therewith he handled a knife that hung about his neck, and went on
to say: “But indeed, I do much marvel that no word came into the
mouth of the Hall-Sun yestereven or this morning, but such as any woman
of the kindred might say.”
Therewith fell their talk awhile, and as they rode they came to where
the wood drew nigher to the river, and thus the Mid-mark had an end;
for there was no House had a dwelling in the Mid-mark higher up the
water than the Elkings, save one only, not right great, who mostly fared
to war along with the Elkings: and this was the Oselings, whose banner
bore the image of the Wood-ousel, the black bird with the yellow neb;
and they had just fallen into the company of the greater House.
So now Mid-mark was over and past, and the serried trees of the wood
came down like a wall but a little way from the lip of the water; and
scattered trees, mostly quicken-trees grew here and there on the very
water side.  But Mirkwood-water ran deep swift and narrow between
high clean-cloven banks, so that none could dream of fording, and not
so many of swimming its dark green dangerous waters.  And the day
wore on towards evening and the glory of the western sky was unseen
because of the wall of high trees.  And still the host made on,
and because of the narrowness of the space between river and wood it
was strung out longer and looked a very great company of men. 
And moreover the men of the eastern-lying part of Mid-mark, were now
marching thick and close on the other side of the river but a little
way from the Wolfings and their fellows; for nothing but the narrow
river sundered them.
So night fell, and the stars shone, and the moon rose, and yet the
Wolfings and their fellows stayed not, since they wotted that behind
them followed a many of the men of the Mark, both the Mid and the Nether,
and they would by no means hinder their march.
So wended the Markmen between wood and stream on either side of Mirkwood-water,
till now at last the night grew deep and the moon set, and it was hard
on midnight, and they had kindled many torches to light them on either
side of the water.  So whereas they had come to a place where the
trees gave back somewhat from the river, which was well-grassed for
their horses and neat, and was called Baitmead, the companies on the
western side made stay there till morning.  And they drew the wains
right up to the thick of the wood, and all men turned aside into the
mead from the beaten road, so that those who were following after might
hold on their way if so they would.  There then they appointed
watchers of the night, while the rest of them lay upon the sward by
the side of the trees, and slept through the short summer night.
The tale tells not that any man dreamed of the fight to come in such
wise that there was much to tell of his dream on the morrow; many dreamed
of no fight or faring to war, but of matters little, and often laughable,
mere mingled memories of bygone time that had no waking wits to marshal
them.
But that man of the Beamings dreamed that he was at home watching
a potter, a man of the thralls of the House working at his wheel, and
fashioning bowls and ewers: and he had a mind to take of his clay and
fashion a horse for the lad that had bemoaned the promise of his toy. 
And he tried long and failed to fashion anything; for the clay fell
to pieces in his hands; till at last it held together and grew suddenly,
not into an image of a horse, but of the Great Yule Boar, the similitude
of the Holy Beast of Frey.  So he laughed in his sleep and was
glad, and leaped up and drew his sword with his clay-stained hands that
he might wave it over the Earth Boar, and swear a great oath of a doughty
deed.  And therewith he found himself standing on his feet indeed,
just awakened in the cold dawn, and holding by his right hand to an
ash-sapling that grew beside him.  So he laughed again, and laid
him down, and leaned back and slept his sleep out till the sun and the
voices of his fellows stirring awakened him.
CHAPTER VII—THEY GATHER TO THE FOLK-MOTE
When it was the morning, all the host of the Markmen was astir on
either side of the water, and when they had broken their fast, they
got speedily into array, and were presently on the road again; and the
host was now strung out longer yet, for the space between water and
wood once more diminished till at last it was no wider than ten men
might go abreast, and looking ahead it was as if the wild-wood swallowed
up both river and road.
But the fighting-men hastened on merrily with their hearts raised
high, since they knew that they would soon be falling in with more of
their people, and the coming fight was growing a clearer picture to
their eyes; so from side to side of the river they shouted out the cries
of their Houses, or friend called to friend across the eddies of Mirkwood-water,
and there was game and glee enough.
So they fared till the wood gave way before them, and lo, the beginning
of another plain, somewhat like the Mid-mark.  There also the water
widened out before them, and there were eyots in it with stony shores
crowned with willow or with alder, and aspens rising from the midst
of them.
But as for the plain, it was thus much different from Mid-mark, that
the wood which begirt it rose on the south into low hills, and away
beyond them were other hills blue in the distance, for the most bare
of wood, and not right high, the pastures of the wild-bull and the bison,
whereas now dwelt a folk somewhat scattered and feeble; hunters and
herdsmen, with little tillage about their abodes, a folk akin to the
Markmen and allied to them.  They had come into those parts later
than the Markmen, as the old tales told; which said moreover that in
days gone by a folk dwelt among those hills who were alien from the
Goths, and great foes to the Markmen; and how that on a time they came
down from their hills with a great host, together with new-comers of
their own blood, and made their way through the wild-wood, and fell
upon the Upper-mark; and how that there befel a fearful battle that
endured for three days; and the first day the Aliens worsted the Markmen,
who were but a few, since they were they of the Upper-mark only. 
So the Aliens burned their houses and slew their old men, and drave
off many of their women and children; and the remnant of the men of
the Upper-mark with all that they had, which was now but little, took
refuge in an island of Mirkwood-water, where they fenced themselves
as well as they could for that night; for they expected the succour
of their kindred of the Mid-mark and the Nether-mark, unto whom they
had sped the war-arrow when they first had tidings of the onset of the
Aliens.
So at the sun-rising they sacrificed to the Gods twenty chieftains
of the Aliens whom they had taken, and therewithal a maiden of their
own kindred, the daughter of their war-duke, that she might lead that
mighty company to the House of the Gods; and thereto was she nothing
loth, but went right willingly.
There then they awaited the onset.  But the men of Mid-mark
came up in the morning, when the battle was but just joined, and fell
on so fiercely that the aliens gave back, and then they of the Upper-mark
stormed out of their eyot, and fell on over the ford, and fought till
the water ran red with their blood, and the blood of the foemen. 
So the Aliens gave back before the onset of the Markmen all over the
meads; but when they came to the hillocks and the tofts of the half-burned
habitations, and the wood was on their flank, they made a stand again,
and once more the battle waxed hot, for they were very many, and had
many bowmen: there fell the War-duke of the Markmen, whose daughter
had been offered up for victory, and his name was Agni, so that the
tofts where he fell have since been called Agni’s Tofts. 
So that day they fought all over the plain, and a great many died, both
of the Aliens and the Markmen, and though these last were victorious,
yet when the sun went down there still were the Aliens abiding in the
Upper-mark, fenced by their wain-burg, beaten, and much diminished in
number, but still a host of men: while of the Markmen many had fallen,
and many more were hurt, because the Aliens were good bowmen.
But on the morrow again, as the old tale told, came up the men of
the Nether-mark fresh and unwounded; and so the battle began again on
the southern limit of the Upper-mark where the Aliens had made their
wain-burg.  But not long did it endure; for the Markmen fell on
so fiercely, that they stormed over the wain-burg, and slew all before
them, and there was a very great slaughter of the Aliens; so great,
tells the old tale, that never again durst they meet the Markmen in
war.
Thus went forth the host of the Markmen, faring along both sides
of the water into the Upper-mark; and on the west side, where went the
Wolfings, the ground now rose by a long slope into a low hill, and when
they came unto the brow thereof, they beheld before them the whole plain
of the Upper-mark, and the dwellings of the kindred therein all girdled
about by the wild-wood; and beyond, the blue hills of the herdsmen,
and beyond them still, a long way aloof, lying like a white cloud on
the verge of the heavens, the snowy tops of the great mountains. 
And as they looked down on to the plain they saw it embroidered, as
it were, round about the habitations which lay within ken by crowds
of many people, and the banners of the kindreds and the arms of men;
and many a place they saw named after the ancient battle and that great
slaughter of the Aliens.
On their left hand lay the river, and as it now fairly entered with
them into the Upper-mark, it spread out into wide rippling shallows
beset with yet more sandy eyots, amongst which was one much greater,
rising amidmost into a low hill, grassy and bare of tree or bush; and
this was the island whereon the Markmen stood on the first day of the
Great Battle, and it was now called the Island of the Gods.
Thereby was the ford, which was firm and good and changed little
from year to year, so that all Markmen knew it well and it was called
Battleford: thereover now crossed all the eastern companies, footmen
and horsemen, freemen and thralls, wains and banners, with shouting
and laughter, and the noise of horns and the lowing of neat, till all
that plain’s end was flooded with the host of the Markmen.
But when the eastern-abiders had crossed, they made no stay, but
went duly ordered about their banners, winding on toward the first of
the abodes on the western side of the water; because it was but a little
way southwest of this that the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark lay; and
the whole Folk was summoned thither when war threatened from the South,
just as it was called to the Thing-stead of the Nether-mark, when the
threat of war came from the North.  But the western companies stayed
on the brow of that low hill till all the eastern men were over the
river, and on their way to the Thing-stead, and then they moved on.
So came the Wolfings and their fellows up to the dwellings of the
northernmost kindred, who were called the Daylings, and bore on their
banner the image of the rising sun.  Thereabout was the Mark somewhat
more hilly and broken than in the Mid-mark, so that the Great Roof of
the Daylings, which was a very big house, stood on a hillock whose sides
had been cleft down sheer on all sides save one (which was left as a
bridge) by the labour of men, and it was a very defensible place.
Thereon were now gathered round about the Roof all the stay-at-homes
of the kindred, who greeted with joyous cries the men-at-arms as they
passed.  Albeit one very old man, who sat in a chair near to the
edge of the sheer hill looking on the war array, when he saw the Wolfing
banner draw near, stood up to gaze on it, and then shook his head sadly,
and sank back again into his chair, and covered his face with his hands:
and when the folk saw that, a silence bred of the coldness of fear fell
on them, for that elder was deemed a foreseeing man.
But as those three fellows, of whose talk of yesterday the tale has
told, drew near and beheld what the old carle did (for they were riding
together this day also) the Beaming man laid his hand on Wolfkettle’s
rein and said:
“Lo you, neighbour, if thy Vala hath seen nought, yet hath
this old man seen somewhat, and that somewhat even as the little lad
saw it.  Many a mother’s son shall fall before the Welshmen.”
But Wolfkettle shook his rein free, and his face reddened as of one
who is angry, yet he kept silence, while the Elking said:
“Let be, Toti! for he that lives shall tell the tale to the
foreseers, and shall make them wiser than they are to-day.”
Then laughed Toti, as one who would not be thought to be too heedful
of the morrow.  But Wolfkettle brake out into speech and rhyme,
and said:
 “O warriors, the Wolfing kindred shall live or
it shall die;
And alive it shall be as the oak-tree when the summer storm goes by;
But dead it shall be as its bole, that they hew for the corner-post
Of some fair and mighty folk-hall, and the roof of a war-fain host.”
So therewith they rode their ways past the abode of the Daylings.
Straight to the wood went all the host, and so into it by a wide
way cleft through the thicket, and in some thirty minutes they came
thereby into a great wood-lawn cleared amidst of it by the work of men’s
hands.  There already was much of the host gathered, sitting or
standing in a great ring round about a space bare of men, where amidmost
rose a great mound raised by men’s hands and wrought into steps
to be the sitting-places of the chosen elders and chief men of the kindred;
and atop the mound was flat and smooth save for a turf bench or seat
that went athwart it whereon ten men might sit.
All the wains save the banner-wains had been left behind at the Dayling
abode, nor was any beast there save the holy beasts who drew the banner-wains
and twenty white horses, that stood wreathed about with flowers within
the ring of warriors, and these were for the burnt offering to be given
to the Gods for a happy day of battle.  Even the war-horses of
the host they must leave in the wood without the wood-lawn, and all
men were afoot who were there.
For this was the Thing-stead of the Upper-mark, and the holiest place
of the Markmen, and no beast, either neat, sheep, or horse might pasture
there, but was straightway slain and burned if he wandered there; nor
might any man eat therein save at the holy feasts when offerings were
made to the Gods.
So the Wolfings took their place there in the ring of men with the
Elkings on their right hand and the Beamings on their left.  And
in the midst of the Wolfing array stood Thiodolf clad in the dwarf-wrought
hauberk: but his head was bare; for he had sworn over the Cup of Renown
that he would fight unhelmed throughout all that trouble, and would
bear no shield in any battle thereof however fierce the onset might
be.
Short, and curling close to his head was his black hair, a little
grizzled, so that it looked like rings of hard dark iron: his forehead
was high and smooth, his lips full and red, his eyes steady and wide-open,
and all his face joyous with the thought of the fame of his deeds, and
the coming battle with a foeman whom the Markmen knew not yet.
He was tall and wide-shouldered, but so exceeding well fashioned
of all his limbs and body that he looked no huge man.  He was a
man well beloved of women, and children would mostly run to him gladly
and play with him.  A most fell warrior was he, whose deeds no
man of the Mark could equal, but blithe of speech even when he was sorrowful
of mood, a man that knew not bitterness of heart: and for all his exceeding
might and valiancy, he was proud and high to no man; so that the very
thralls loved him.
He was not abounding in words in the field; nor did he use much the
custom of those days in reviling and defying with words the foe that
was to be smitten with swords.
There were those who had seen him in the field for the first time
who deemed him slack at the work: for he would not always press on with
the foremost, but would hold him a little aback, and while the battle
was young he forbore to smite, and would do nothing but help a kinsman
who was hard pressed, or succour the wounded.  So that if men were
dealing with no very hard matter, and their hearts were high and overweening,
he would come home at whiles with unbloodied blade.  But no man
blamed him save those who knew him not: for his intent was that the
younger men should win themselves fame, and so raise their courage,
and become high-hearted and stout.
But when the stour was hard, and the battle was broken, and the hearts
of men began to fail them, and doubt fell upon the Markmen, then was
he another man to see: wise, but swift and dangerous, rushing on as
if shot out by some mighty engine: heedful of all, on either side and
in front; running hither and thither as the fight failed and the fire
of battle faltered; his sword so swift and deadly that it was as if
he wielded the very lightening of the heavens: for with the sword it
was ever his wont to fight.
But it must be said that when the foemen turned their backs, and
the chase began, then Thiodolf would nowise withhold his might as in
the early battle, but ever led the chase, and smote on the right hand
and on the left, sparing none, and crying out to the men of the kindred
not to weary in their work, but to fulfil all the hours of their day.
For thuswise would he say and this was a word of his:
 “Let us rest to-morrow, fellows, since to-day we
have fought amain!
Let not these men we have smitten come aback on our hands again,
And say ‘Ye Wolfing warriors, ye have done your work but ill,
Fall to now and do it again, like the craftsman who learneth his skill.’”
Such then was Thiodolf, and ever was he the chosen leader of the
Wolfings and often the War-duke of the whole Folk.
By his side stood the other chosen leader, whose name was Heriulf;
a man well stricken in years, but very mighty and valiant; wise in war
and well renowned; of few words save in battle, and therein a singer
of songs, a laugher, a joyous man, a merry companion.  He was a
much bigger man than Thiodolf; and indeed so huge was his stature, that
he seemed to be of the kindred of the Mountain Giants; and his bodily
might went with his stature, so that no one man might deal with him
body to body.  His face was big; his cheek-bones high; his nose
like an eagle’s neb, his mouth wide, his chin square and big;
his eyes light-grey and fierce under shaggy eyebrows: his hair white
and long.
Such were his raiment and weapons, that he wore a coat of fence of
dark iron scales sewn on to horse-hide, and a dark iron helm fashioned
above his brow into the similitude of the Wolf’s head with gaping
jaws; and this he had wrought for himself with his own hands, for he
was a good smith.  A round buckler he bore and a huge twibill,
which no man of the kindred could well wield save himself; and it was
done both blade and shaft with knots and runes in gold; and he loved
that twibill well, and called it the Wolf’s Sister.
There then stood Heriulf, looking no less than one of the forefathers
of the kindred come back again to the battle of the Wolfings.
He was well-beloved for his wondrous might, and he was no hard man,
though so fell a warrior, and though of few words, as aforesaid, was
a blithe companion to old and young.  In numberless battles had
he fought, and men deemed it a wonder that Odin had not taken to him
a man so much after his own heart; and they said it was neighbourly
done of the Father of the Slain to forbear his company so long, and
showed how well he loved the Wolfing House.
For a good while yet came other bands of Markmen into the Thing-stead;
but at last there was an end of their coming.  Then the ring of
men opened, and ten warriors of the Daylings made their way through
it, and one of them, the oldest, bore in his hand the War-horn of the
Daylings; for this kindred had charge of the Thing-stead, and of all
appertaining to it.  So while his nine fellows stood round about
the Speech-Hill, the old warrior clomb up to the topmost of it, and
blew a blast on the horn.  Thereon they who were sitting rose up,
and they who were talking each to each held their peace, and the whole
ring drew nigher to the hill, so that there was a clear space behind
them ’twixt them and the wood, and a space before them between
them and the hill, wherein were those nine warriors, and the horses
for the burnt-offering, and the altar of the Gods; and now were all
well within ear-shot of a man speaking amidst the silence in a clear
voice.
But there were gathered of the Markmen to that place some four thousand
men, all chosen warriors and doughty men; and of the thralls and aliens
dwelling with them they were leading two thousand.  But not all
of the freemen of the Upper-mark could be at the Thing; for needs must
there be some guard to the passes of the wood toward the south and the
hills of the herdsmen, whereas it was no wise impassable to a wisely
led host: so five hundred men, what of freemen, what of thralls, abode
there to guard the wild-wood; and these looked to have some helping
from the hill-men.
Now came an ancient warrior into the space between the men and the
wild-wood holding in his hand a kindled torch; and first he faced due
south by the sun, then, turning, he slowly paced the whole circle going
from east to west, and so on till he had reached the place he started
from: then he dashed the torch to the ground and quenched the fire,
and so went his ways to his own company again.
Then the old Dayling warrior on the mound-top drew his sword, and
waved it flashing in the sun toward the four quarters of the heavens;
and thereafter blew again a blast on the War-horn.  Then fell utter
silence on the whole assembly, and the wood was still around them, save
here and there the stamping of a war-horse or the sound of his tugging
at the woodland grass; for there was little resort of birds to the depths
of the thicket, and the summer morning was windless.
CHAPTER VIII—THE FOLK-MOTE OF THE MARKMEN
So the Dayling warrior lifted up his voice and said:
 “O kindreds of the Markmen, hearken the words I
say;
For no chancehap assembly is gathered here to-day.
The fire hath gone around us in the hands of our very kin,
And twice the horn hath sounded, and the Thing is hallowed in.
Will ye hear or forbear to hearken the tale there is to tell?
There are many mouths to tell it, and a many know it well.
And the tale is this, that the foemen against our kindreds fare
Who eat the meadows desert, and burn the desert bare.”
Then sat he down on the turf seat; but there arose a murmur in the
assembly as of men eager to hearken; and without more ado came a man
out of a company of the Upper-mark, and clomb up to the top of the Speech-Hill,
and spoke in a loud voice:
“I am Bork, a man of the Geirings of the Upper-mark: two days
ago I and five others were in the wild-wood a-hunting, and we wended
through the thicket, and came into the land of the hill-folk; and after
we had gone a while we came to a long dale with a brook running through
it, and yew-trees scattered about it and a hazel copse at one end; and
by the copse was a band of men who had women and children with them,
and a few neat, and fewer horses; but sheep were feeding up and down
the dale; and they had made them booths of turf and boughs, and were
making ready their cooking fires, for it was evening.  So when
they saw us, they ran to their arms, but we cried out to them in the
tongue of the Goths and bade them peace.  Then they came up the
bent to us and spake to us in the Gothic tongue, albeit a little diversely
from us; and when we had told them what and whence we were, they were
glad of us, and bade us to them, and we went, and they entreated us
kindly, and made us such cheer as they might, and gave us mutton to
eat, and we gave them venison of the wild-wood which we had taken, and
we abode with them there that night.
“But they told us that they were a house of the folk of the
herdsmen, and that there was war in the land, and that the people thereof
were fleeing before the cruelty of a host of warriors, men of a mighty
folk, such as the earth hath not heard of, who dwell in great cities
far to the south; and how that this host had crossed the mountains,
and the Great Water that runneth from them, and had fallen upon their
kindred, and overcome their fighting-men, and burned their dwellings,
slain their elders, and driven their neat and their sheep, yea, and
their women and children in no better wise than their neat and sheep.
“And they said that they had fled away thus far from their
old habitations, which were a long way to the south, and were now at
point to build them dwellings there in that Dale of the Hazels, and
to trust to it that these Welshmen, whom they called Romans, would not
follow so far, and that if they did, they might betake them to the wild-wood,
and let the thicket cover them, they being so nigh to it.
“Thus they told us; wherefore we sent back one of our fellowship,
Birsti of the Geirings, to tell the tale; and one of the herdsmen folk
went with him, but we ourselves went onward to hear more of these Romans;
for the folk when we asked them, said that they had been in battle against
them, but had fled away for fear of their rumour only.  Therefore
we went on, and a young man of this kindred, who named themselves the
Hrutings of the Fell-folk, went along with us.  But the others
were sore afeard, for all they had weapons.
“So as we went up the land we found they had told us the very
sooth, and we met divers Houses, and bands, and broken men, who were
fleeing from this trouble, and many of them poor and in misery, having
lost their flocks and herds as well as their roofs; and this last be
but little loss to them, as their dwellings are but poor, and for the
most part they have no tillage.  Now of these men, we met not a
few who had been in battle with the Roman host, and much they told us
of their might not to be dealt with, and their mishandling of those
whom they took, both men and women; and at the last we heard true tidings
how they had raised them a garth, and made a stronghold in the midst
of the land, as men who meant abiding there, so that neither might the
winter drive them aback, and that they might be succoured by their people
on the other side of the Great River; to which end they have made other
garths, though not so great, on the road to that water, and all these
well and wisely warded by tried men.  For as to the Folks on the
other side of the Water, all these lie under their hand already, what
by fraud what by force, and their warriors go with them to the battle
and help them; of whom we met bands now and again, and fought with them,
and took men of them, who told us all this and much more, over long
to tell of here.”
He paused and turned about to look on the mighty assembly, and his
ears drank in the long murmur that followed his speaking, and when it
had died out he spake again, but in rhyme:
 “Lo thus much of my tidings!  But this too
it behoveth to tell,
That these masterful men of the cities of the Markmen know full well:
And they wot of the well-grassed meadows, and the acres of the Mark,
And our life amidst of the wild-wood like a candle in the dark;
And they know of our young men’s valour and our women’s
loveliness,
And our tree would they spoil with destruction if its fruit they may
never possess.
For their lust is without a limit, and nought may satiate
Their ravening maw; and their hunger if ye check it turneth to hate,
And the blood-fever burns in their bosoms, and torment and anguish and
woe
O’er the wide field ploughed by the sword-blade for the coming
years they sow;
And ruth is a thing forgotten and all hopes they trample down;
And whatso thing is steadfast, whatso of good renown,
Whatso is fair and lovely, whatso is ancient sooth
In the bloody marl shall they mingle as they laugh for lack of ruth.
Lo the curse of the world cometh hither; for the men that we took in
the land
Said thus, that their host is gathering with many an ordered band
To fall on the wild-wood passes and flood the lovely Mark,
As the river over the meadows upriseth in the dark.
Look to it, O ye kindred! availeth now no word
But the voice of the clashing of iron, and the sword-blade on the sword.”
Therewith he made an end, and deeper and longer was the murmur of
the host of freemen, amidst which Bork gat him down from the Speech-Hill,
his weapons clattering about him, and mingled with the men of his kindred.
Then came forth a man of the kin of the Shieldings of the Upper-mark,
and clomb the mound; and he spake in rhyme from beginning to end; for
he was a minstrel of renown:
 “Lo I am a man of the Shieldings and Geirmund is
my name;
A half-moon back from the wild-wood out into the hills I came,
And I went alone in my war-gear; for we have affinity
With the Hundings of the Fell-folk, and with them I fain would be;
For I loved a maid of their kindred.  Now their dwelling was not
far
From the outermost bounds of the Fell-folk, and bold in the battle they
are,
And have met a many people, and held their own abode.
Gay then was the heart within me, as over the hills I rode
And thought of the mirth of to-morrow and the sweet-mouthed Hunding
maid
And their old men wise and merry and their young men unafraid,
And the hall-glee of the Hundings and the healths o’er the guesting
cup.
But as I rode the valley, I saw a smoke go up
O’er the crest of the last of the grass-hills ’twixt me
and the Hunding roof,
And that smoke was black and heavy: so a while I bided aloof,
And drew my girths the tighter, and looked to the arms I bore
And handled my spear for the casting; for my heart misgave me sore,
For nought was that pillar of smoke like the guest-fain cooking-fire.
I lingered in thought for a minute, then turned me to ride up higher,
And as a man most wary up over the bent I rode,
And nigh hid peered o’er the hill-crest adown on the Hunding abode;
And forsooth ’twas the fire wavering all o’er the roof of
old,
And all in the garth and about it lay the bodies of the bold;
And bound to a rope amidmost were the women fair and young,
And youths and little children, like the fish on a withy strung
As they lie on the grass for the angler before the beginning of night.
Then the rush of the wrath within me for a while nigh blinded my sight;
Yet about the cowering war-thralls, short dark-faced men I saw,
Men clad in iron armour, this way and that way draw,
As warriors after the battle are ever wont to do.
Then I knew them for the foemen and their deeds to be I knew,
And I gathered the reins together to ride down the hill amain,
To die with a good stroke stricken and slay ere I was slain.
When lo, on the bent before me rose the head of a brown-faced man,
Well helmed and iron-shielded, who some Welsh speech began
And a short sword brandished against me; then my sight cleared and I
saw
Five others armed in likewise up hill and toward me draw,
And I shook the spear and sped it and clattering on his shield
He fell and rolled o’er smitten toward the garth and the Fell-folk’s
field.
“But my heart changed with his falling and the speeding of
my stroke,
And I turned my horse; for within me the love of life awoke,
And I spurred, nor heeded the hill-side, but o’er rough and smooth
I rode
Till I heard no chase behind me; then I drew rein and abode.
And down in a dell was I gotten with a thorn-brake in its throat,
And heard but the plover’s whistle and the blackbird’s broken
note
’Mid the thorns; when lo! from a thorn-twig away the blackbird
swept,
And out from the brake and towards me a naked man there crept,
And straight I rode up towards him, and knew his face for one
I had seen in the hall of the Hundings ere its happy days were done.
I asked him his tale, but he bade me forthright to bear him away;
So I took him up behind me, and we rode till late in the day,
Toward the cover of the wild-wood, and as swiftly as we might.
But when yet aloof was the thicket and it now was moonless night,
We stayed perforce for a little, and he told me all the tale:
How the aliens came against them, and they fought without avail
Till the Roof o’er their heads was burning and they burst forth
on the foe,
And were hewn down there together; nor yet was the slaughter slow.
But some they saved for thralldom, yea, e’en of the fighting men,
Or to quell them with pains; so they stripped them; and this man espying
just then
Some chance, I mind not whatwise, from the garth fled out and away.
“Now many a thing noteworthy of these aliens did he say,
But this I bid you hearken, lest I wear the time for nought,
That still upon the Markmen and the Mark they set their thought;
For they questioned this man and others through a go-between in words
Of us, and our lands and our chattels, and the number of our swords;
Of the way and the wild-wood passes and the winter and his ways.
Now look to see them shortly; for worn are fifteen days
Since in the garth of the Hundings I saw them dight for war,
And a hardy folk and ready and a swift-foot host they are.”
Therewith Geirmund went down clattering from the Hill and stood with
his company.  But a man came forth from the other side of the ring,
and clomb the Hill: he was a red-haired man, rather big, clad in a skin
coat, and bearing a bow in his hand and a quiver of arrows at his back,
and a little axe hung by his side.  He said:
“I dwell in the House of the Hrossings of the Mid-mark, and
I am now made a man of the kindred: howbeit I was not born into it;
for I am the son of a fair and mighty woman of a folk of the Kymry,
who was taken in war while she went big with me; I am called Fox the
Red.
“These Romans have I seen, and have not died: so hearken! for
my tale shall be short for what there is in it.
“I am, as many know, a hunter of Mirkwood, and I know all its
ways and the passes through the thicket somewhat better than most.
“A moon ago I fared afoot from Mid-mark through Upper-mark
into the thicket of the south, and through it into the heath country;
and I went over a neck and came in the early dawn into a little dale
when somewhat of mist still hung over it.  At the dale’s
end I saw a man lying asleep on the grass under a quicken tree, and
his shield and sword hanging over his head to a bough thereof, and his
horse feeding hoppled higher up the dale.
“I crept up softly to him with a shaft nocked on the string,
but when I drew near I saw him to be of the sons of the Goths. 
So I doubted nothing, but laid down my bow, and stood upright, and went
to him and roused him, and he leapt up, and was wroth.
“I said to him, ‘Wilt thou be wroth with a brother of
the kindred meeting him in unpeopled parts?’
“But he reached out for his weapons; but ere he could handle
them I ran in on him so that he gat not his sword, and had scant time
to smite at me with a knife which he drew from his waist.
“I gave way before him for he was a very big man, and he rushed
past me, and I dealt him a blow on the side of the head with my little
axe which is called the War-babe, and gave him a great wound: and he
fell on the grass, and as it happened that was his bane.
“I was sorry that I had slain him, since he was a man of the
Goths: albeit otherwise he had slain me, for he was very wroth and dazed
with slumber.
“He died not for a while; and he bade me fetch him water; and
there was a well hard by on the other side of the tree; so I fetched
it him in a great shell that I carry, and he drank.  I would have
sung the blood-staunching song over him, for I know it well.  But
he said, ‘It availeth nought: I have enough: what man art thou?’
“I said, ‘I am a fosterling of the Hrossings, and my
mother was taken in war: my name is Fox.’
“Said he; ‘O Fox, I have my due at thy hands, for I am
a Markman of the Elkings, but a guest of the Burgundians beyond the
Great River; and the Romans are their masters and they do their bidding:
even so did I who was but their guest: and I a Markman to fight against
the Markmen, and all for fear and for gold!  And thou an alien-born
hast slain their traitor and their dastard!  This is my due. 
Give me to drink again.’
“So did I; and he said; ‘Wilt thou do an errand for me
to thine own house?’  ‘Yea,’ said I.
“Said he, ‘I am a messenger to the garth of the Romans,
that I may tell the road to the Mark, and lead them through the thicket;
and other guides are coming after me: but not yet for three days or
four.  So till they come there will be no man in the Roman garth
to know thee that thou art not even I myself.  If thou art doughty,
strip me when I am dead and do my raiment on thee, and take this ring
from my neck, for that is my token, and when they ask thee for a word
say, “No limit”; for that is the token-word. 
Go south-east over the dales keeping Broadshield-fell square with thy
right hand, and let thy wisdom, O Fox, lead thee to the Garth of the
Romans, and so back to thy kindred with all tidings thou hast gathered—for
indeed they come—a many of them.  Give me to drink.’
“So he drank again, and said, ‘The bearer of this token
is called Hrosstyr of the River Goths.  He hath that name among
dastards.  Thou shalt lay a turf upon my head.  Let my death
pay for my life.’
“Therewith he fell back and died.  So I did as he bade
me and took his gear, worth six kine, and did it on me; I laid turf
upon him in that dale, and hid my bow and my gear in a blackthorn brake
hard by, and then took his horse and rode away.
“Day and night I rode till I came to the garth of the Romans;
there I gave myself up to their watchers, and they brought me to their
Duke, a grim man and hard.  He said in a terrible voice, ‘Thy
name?’  I said, ‘Hrosstyr of the River Goths.’ 
He said, ‘What limit?’  I answered, ‘No limit.’ 
‘The token!’ said he, and held out his hand.  I gave
him the ring.  ‘Thou art the man,’ said he.
“I thought in my heart, ‘thou liest, lord,’ and
my heart danced for joy.
“Then he fell to asking me questions a many, and I answered
every one glibly enough, and told him what I would, but no word of truth
save for his hurt, and my soul laughed within me at my lies; thought
I, the others, the traitors, shall come, and they shall tell him the
truth, and he will not trow it, or at the worst he will doubt them. 
But me he doubted nothing, else had he called in the tormentors to have
the truth of me by pains; as I well saw afterwards, when they questioned
with torments a man and a woman of the hill-folk whom they had brought
in captive.
“I went from him and went all about that garth espying everything,
fearing nothing; albeit there were divers woful captives of the Goths,
who cursed me for a dastard, when they saw by my attire that I was of
their blood.
“I abode there three days, and learned all that I might of
the garth and the host of them, and the fourth day in the morning I
went out as if to hunt, and none hindered me, for they doubted me not.
“So I came my ways home to the Upper-mark, and was guested
with the Geirings.  Will ye that I tell you somewhat of the ways
of these Romans of the garth?  The time presses, and my tale runneth
longer than I would.  What will ye?”
Then there arose a murmur, “Tell all, tell all.” 
“Nay,” said the Fox, “All I may not tell; so much
did I behold there during the three days’ stay; but this much
it behoveth you to know: that these men have no other thought save to
win the Mark and waste it, and slay the fighting men and the old carles,
and enthrall such as they will, that is, all that be fair and young,
and they long sorely for our women either to have or to sell.
“As for their garth, it is strongly walled about with a dyke
newly dug; on the top thereof are they building a wall made of clay,
and burned like pots into ashlar stones hard and red, and these are
laid in lime.
“It is now the toil of the thralls of our blood whom they have
taken, both men and women, to dig that clay and to work it, and bear
it to kilns, and to have for reward scant meat and many stripes. 
For it is a grim folk, that laugheth to see others weep.
“Their men-at-arms are well dight and for the most part in
one way: they are helmed with iron, and have iron on their breasts and
reins, and bear long shields that cover them to the knees.  They
are girt with a sax and have a heavy casting-spear.  They are dark-skinned
and ugly of aspect, surly and of few words: they drink little, and eat
not much.
“They have captains of tens and of hundreds over them, and
that war-duke over all; he goeth to and fro with gold on his head and
his breast, and commonly hath a cloak cast over him of the colour of
the crane’s-bill blossom.
“They have an altar in the midst of their burg, and thereon
they sacrifice to their God, who is none other than their banner of
war, which is an image of the ravening eagle with outspread wings; but
yet another God they have, and look you! it is a wolf, as if they were
of the kin of our brethren; a she-wolf and two man-children at her dugs;
wonderful is this.
“I tell you that they are grim; and know it by this token:
those captains of tens, and of hundreds, spare not to smite the warriors
with staves even before all men, when all goeth not as they would; and
yet, though they be free men, and mighty warriors, they endure it and
smite not in turn.  They are a most evil folk.
“As to their numbers, they of the burg are hard on three thousand
footmen of the best; and of horsemen five hundred, nowise good; and
of bowmen and slingers six hundred or more: their bows weak; their slingers
cunning beyond measure.  And the talk is that when they come upon
us they shall have with them some five hundred warriors of the Over
River Goths, and others of their own folk.”
Then he said:
 “O men of the Mark, will ye meet them in the meadows
and the field,
Or will ye flee before them and have the wood for a shield?
Or will ye wend to their war-burg with weapons cast away,
With your women and your children, a peace of them to pray?
So doing, not all shall perish; but most shall long to die
Ere in the garths of the Southland two moons have loitered by.”
Then rose the rumour loud and angry mingled with the rattle of swords
and the clash of spears on shields; but Fox said:
“Needs must ye follow one of these three ways.  Nay, what
say I? there are but two ways and not three; for if ye flee they shall
follow you to the confines of the earth.  Either these Welsh shall
take all, and our lives to boot, or we shall hold to all that is ours,
and live merrily.  The sword doometh; and in three days it may
be the courts shall be hallowed: small is the space between us.”
Therewith he also got him down from the Hill, and joined his own
house: and men said that he had spoken well and wisely.  But there
arose a noise of men talking together on these tidings; and amidst it
an old warrior of the Nether-mark strode forth and up to the Hill-top. 
Gaunt and stark he was to look on; and all men knew him and he was well-beloved,
so all held their peace as he said:
“I am Otter of the Laxings: now needeth but few words till
the War-duke is chosen, and we get ready to wend our ways in arms. 
Here have ye heard three good men and true tell of our foes, and this
last, Fox the Red, hath seen them and hath more to tell when we are
on the way; nor is the way hard to find.  It were scarce well to
fall upon these men in their garth and war-burg; for hard is a wall
to slay.  Better it were to meet them in the Wild-wood, which may
well be a friend to us and a wall, but to them a net.  O Agni of
the Daylings, thou warder of the Thing-stead, bid men choose a War-duke
if none gainsay it.”
And without more words he clattered down the Hill, and went and stood
with the Laxing band.  But the old Dayling arose and blew the horn,
and there was at once a great silence, amidst which he said:
“Children of Slains-father, doth the Folk go to the war?”
There was no voice but shouted “yea,” and the white swords
sprang aloft, and the westering sun swept along a half of them as they
tossed to and fro, and the others showed dead-white and fireless against
the dark wood.
Then again spake Agni:
“Will ye choose the War-duke now and once, or shall it be in
a while, after others have spoken?”
And the voice of the Folk went up, “Choose!  Choose!”
Said Agni: “Sayeth any aught against it?”  But no
voice of a gainsayer was heard, and Agni said:
“Children of Tyr, what man will ye have for a leader and a
duke of war?”
Then a great shout sprang up from amidst the swords: “We will
have Thiodolf; Thiodolf the Wolfing!”
Said Agni: “I hear no other name; are ye of one mind? hath
any aught to say against it?  If that be so, let him speak now,
and not forbear to follow in the wheatfield of the spears.  Speak,
ye that will not follow Thiodolf!”
No voice gainsaid him: then said the Dayling: “Come forth thou
War-duke of the Markmen! take up the gold ring from the horns of the
altar, set it on thine arm and come up hither!”
Then came forth Thiodolf into the sun, and took up the gold ring
from where it lay, and did it on his arm.  And this was the ring
of the leader of the folk whenso one should be chosen: it was ancient
and daintily wrought, but not very heavy: so ancient it was that men
said it had been wrought by the dwarfs.
So Thiodolf went up on to the hill, and all men cried out on him
for joy, for they knew his wisdom in war.  Many wondered to see
him unhelmed, but they had a deeming that he must have made oath to
the Gods thereof and their hearts were glad of it.  They took note
of the dwarf-wrought hauberk, and even from a good way off they could
see what a treasure of smith’s work it was, and they deemed it
like enough that spells had been sung over it to make it sure against
point and edge: for they knew that Thiodolf was well beloved of the
Gods.
But when Thiodolf was on the Hill of Speech, he said:
“Men of the kindreds, I am your War-duke to-day; but it is
oftenest the custom when ye go to war to choose you two dukes, and I
would it were so now.  No child’s play is the work that lies
before us; and if one leader chance to fall let there be another to
take his place without stop or stay.  Thou Agni of the Daylings,
bid the Folk choose them another duke if so they will.”
Said Agni: “Good is this which our War-duke hath spoken; say
then, men of the Mark, who shall stand with Thiodolf to lead you against
the aliens?”
Then was there a noise and a crying of names, and more than two names
seemed to be cried out; but by far the greater part named either Otter
of the Laxings, or Heriulf of the Wolfings.  True it is that Otter
was a very wise warrior, and well known to all the men of the Mark;
yet so dear was Heriulf to them, that none would have named Otter had
it not been mostly their custom not to choose both War-dukes from one
House.
Now spake Agni: “Children of Tyr, I hear you name more than
one name: now let each man cry out clearly the name he nameth.”
So the Folk cried the names once more, but this time it was clear
that none was named save Otter and Heriulf; so the Dayling was at point
to speak again, but or ever a word left his lips, Heriulf the mighty,
the ancient of days, stood forth: and when men saw that he would take
up the word there was a great silence.  So he spake:
“Hearken, children!  I am old and war-wise; but my wisdom
is the wisdom of the sword of the mighty warrior, that knoweth which
way it should wend, and hath no thought of turning back till it lieth
broken in the field.  Such wisdom is good against Folks that we
have met heretofore; as when we have fought with the Huns, who would
sweep us away from the face of the earth, or with the Franks or the
Burgundians, who would quell us into being something worser than they
be.  But here is a new foe, and new wisdom, and that right shifty,
do we need to meet them.  One wise duke have ye gotten, Thiodolf
to wit; and he is young beside me and beside Otter of the Laxings. 
And now if ye must needs have an older man to stand beside him, (and
that is not ill) take ye Otter; for old though his body be, the thought
within him is keen and supple like the best of Welsh-wrought blades,
and it liveth in the days that now are: whereas for me, meseemeth, my
thoughts are in the days bygone.  Yet look to it, that I shall
not fail to lead as the sword of the valiant leadeth, or the shaft shot
by the cunning archer.  Choose ye Otter; I have spoken over long.”
Then spoke Agni the Dayling, and laughed withal: “One man of
the Folk hath spoken for Otter and against Heriulf—now let others
speak if they will!”
So the cry came forth, “Otter let it be, we will have Otter!”
“Speaketh any against Otter?” said Agni.  But there
was no voice raised against him.
Then Agni said: “Come forth, Otter of the Laxings, and hold
the ring with Thiodolf.”
Then Otter went up on to the hill and stood by Thiodolf, and they
held the ring together; and then each thrust his hand and arm through
the ring and clasped hands together, and stood thus awhile, and all
the Folk shouted together.
Then spake Agni: “Now shall we hew the horses and give the
gifts to the Gods.”
Therewith he and the two War-dukes came down from the hill; and stood
before the altar; and the nine warriors of the Daylings stood forth
with axes to hew the horses and with copper bowls wherein to catch the
blood of them, and each hewed down his horse to the Gods, but the two
War-dukes slew the tenth and fairest: and the blood was caught in the
bowls, and Agni took a sprinkler and went round about the ring of men,
and cast the blood of the Gods’-gifts over the Folk, as was the
custom of those days.
Then they cut up the carcases and burned on the altar the share of
the Gods, and Agni and the War-dukes tasted thereof, and the rest they
bore off to the Daylings’ abode for the feast to be holden that
night.
Then Otter and Thiodolf spake apart together for awhile, and presently
went up again on to the Speech-Hill, and Thiodolf said:
 “O kindreds of the Markmen; to-morrow with the
day
We shall wend up Mirkwood-water to bar our foes the way;
And there shall we make our wain-burg on the edges of the wood,
Where in the days past over at last the aliens stood,
The Slaughter Tofts ye call it.  There tidings shall we get
If the curse of the world is awakened, and the serpent crawleth yet
Amidst the Mirkwood thicket; and when the sooth we know,
Then bearing battle with us through the thicket shall we go,
The ancient Wood-wolf’s children, and the People of the Shield,
And the Spear-kin and the Horse-kin, while the others keep the field
About the warded wain-burg; for not many need we there
Where amidst of the thickets’ tangle and the woodland net they
fare,
And the hearts of the aliens falter and they curse the fight ne’er
done,
And wonder who is fighting and which way is the sun.”
Thus he spoke; then Agni took up the war-horn again, and blew a blast,
and then he cried out:
 “Now sunder we the Folk-mote! and the feast is
for to-night,
And to-morrow the Wayfaring; But unnamed is the day of the fight;
O warriors, look ye to it that not long we need abide
’Twixt the hour of the word we have spoken, and our fair-fame’s
blooming tide!
For then ’midst the toil and the turmoil shall we sow the seeds
of peace,
And the Kindreds’ long endurance, and the Goth-folk’s great
increase.”
Then arose the last great shout, and soberly and in due order, kindred
by kindred, they turned and departed from the Thing-stead and went their
way through the wood to the abode of the Daylings.
CHAPTER IX—THE ANCIENT MAN OF THE DAYLINGS
There still hung the more part of the stay-at-homes round about the
Roof.  But on the plain beneath the tofts were all the wains of
the host drawn up round about a square like the streets about a market-place;
all these now had their tilts rigged over them, some white, some black,
some red, some tawny of hue; and some, which were of the Beamings, green
like the leafy tree.
The warriors of the host went down into this wain-town, which they
had not fenced in any way, since they in no wise looked for any onset
there; and there were their thralls dighting the feast for them, and
a many of the Dayling kindred, both men and women, went with them; but
some men did the Daylings bring into their Roof, for there was room
for a good many besides their own folk.  So they went over the
Bridge of turf into the garth and into the Great Roof of the Daylings;
and amongst these were the two War-dukes.
So when they came to the dais it was as fair all round about there
as might well be; and there sat elders and ancient warriors to welcome
the guests; and among them was the old carle who had sat on the edge
of the burg to watch the faring of the host, and had shuddered back
at the sight of the Wolfing Banner.
And when the old carle saw the guests, he fixed his eyes on Thiodolf,
and presently came up and stood before him; and Thiodolf looked on the
old man, and greeted him kindly and smiled on him; but the carle spake
not till he had looked on him a while; and at last he fell a-trembling,
and reached his hands out to Thiodolf’s bare head, and handled
his curls and caressed them, as a mother does with her son, even if
he be a grizzled-haired man, when there is none by: and at last he said:
 “How dear is the head of the mighty, and the apple
of the tree
That blooms with the life of the people which is and yet shall be!
It is helmed with ancient wisdom, and the long remembered thought,
That liveth when dead is the iron, and its very rust but nought.
Ah! were I but young as aforetime, I would fare to the battle-stead
And stand amidst of the spear-hail for the praise of the hand and the
head!”
Then his hands left Thiodolf’s head, and strayed down to his
shoulders and his breast, and he felt the cold rings of the hauberk,
and let his hands fall down to his side again; and the tears gushed
out of his old eyes and again he spake:
 “O house of the heart of the mighty, O breast of
the battle-lord
Why art thou coldly hidden from the flickering flame of the sword?
I know thee not, nor see thee; thou art as the fells afar
Where the Fathers have their dwelling, and the halls of Godhome are:
The wind blows wild betwixt us, and the cloud-rack flies along,
And high aloft enfoldeth the dwelling of the strong;
They are, as of old they have been, but their hearths flame not for
me;
And the kindness of their feast-halls mine eyes shall never see.”
Thiodolf’s lips still smiled on the old man, but a shadow had
come over his eyes and his brow; and the chief of the Daylings and their
mighty guests stood by listening intently with the knit brows of anxious
men; nor did any speak till the ancient man again betook him to words:
 “I came to the house of the foeman when hunger
made me a fool;
And the foeman said, ‘Thou art weary, lo, set thy foot on the
stool;’
And I stretched out my feet,—and was shackled: and he spake with
a dastard’s smile,
‘O guest, thine hands are heavy; now rest them for a while!’
So I stretched out my hands, and the hand-gyves lay cold on either wrist:
And the wood of the wolf had been better than that feast-hall, had I
wist
That this was the ancient pit-fall, and the long expected trap,
And that now for my heart’s desire I had sold the world’s
goodhap.”
Therewith the ancient man turned slowly away from Thiodolf, and departed
sadly to his own place.  Thiodolf changed countenance but little,
albeit those about him looked strangely on him, as though if they durst
they would ask him what these words might be, and if he from his hidden
knowledge might fit a meaning to them.  For to many there was a
word of warning in them, and to some an evil omen of the days soon to
be; and scarce anyone heard those words but he had a misgiving in his
heart, for the ancient man was known to be foreseeing, and wild and
strange his words seemed to them.
But Agni would make light of it, and he said: “Asmund the Old
is of good will, and wise he is; but he hath great longings for the
deeds of men, when he hath tidings of battle; for a great warrior and
a red-hand hewer he hath been in times past; he loves the Kindred, and
deems it ill if he may not fare afield with them; for the thought of
dying in the straw is hateful to him.”
“Yea,” said another, “and moreover he hath seen
sons whom he loved slain in battle; and when he seeth a warrior in his
prime he becometh dear to him, and he feareth for him.”
“Yet,” said a third, “Asmund is foreseeing; and
may be, Thiodolf, thou wilt wot of the drift of these words, and tell
us thereof.”
But Thiodolf spake nought of the matter, though in his heart he pondered
it.
So the guests were led to table, and the feast began, within the
hall and without it, and wide about the plain; and the Dayling maidens
went in bands trimly decked out throughout all the host and served the
warriors with meat and drink, and sang the overword to their lays, and
smote the harp, and drew the bow over the fiddle till it laughed and
wailed and chuckled, and were blithe and merry with all, and great was
the glee on the eve of battle.  And if Thiodolf’s heart were
overcast, his face showed it not, but he passed from hall to wain-burg
and from wain-burg to hall again blithe and joyous with all men. 
And thereby he raised the hearts of men, and they deemed it good that
they had gotten such a War-duke, meet to uphold all hearts of men both
at the feast and in the fray.
CHAPTER X—THAT CARLINE COMETH TO THE ROOF OF THE WOLFINGS
Now it was three days after this that the women were gathering to
the Women’s-Chamber of the Roof of the Wolfings a little before
the afternoon changes into evening.  The hearts of most were somewhat
heavy, for the doubt wherewith they had watched the departure of the
fighting-men still hung about them; nor had they any tidings from the
host (nor was it like that they should have).  And as they were
somewhat down-hearted, so it seemed by the aspect of all things that
afternoon.  It was not yet the evening, as is aforesaid, but the
day was worn and worsened, and all things looked weary.  The sky
was a little clouded, but not much; yet was it murky down in the south-east,
and there was a threat of storm in it, and in the air close round each
man’s head, and in the very waving of the leafy boughs. 
There was by this time little doing in field and fold (for the kine
were milked), and the women were coming up from the acres and the meadow
and over the open ground anigh the Roof; there was the grass worn and
dusty, and the women that trod it, their feet were tanned and worn,
and dusty also; skin-dry and weary they looked, with the sweat dried
upon them; their girt-up gowns grey and lightless, their half-unbound
hair blowing about them in the dry wind, which had in it no morning
freshness, and no evening coolness.
It was a time when toil was well-nigh done, but had left its aching
behind it; a time for folk to sleep and forget for a little while, till
the low sun should make it evening, and make all things fair with his
level rays; no time for anxious thoughts concerning deeds doing, wherein
the anxious ones could do nought to help.  Yet such thoughts those
stay-at-homes needs must have in the hour of their toil scarce over,
their rest and mirth not begun.
Slowly one by one the women went in by the Women’s-door, and
the Hall-Sun sat on a stone hard by, and watched them as they passed;
and she looked keenly at all persons and all things.  She had been
working in the acres, and her hand was yet on the hoe she had been using,
and but for her face her body was as of one resting after toil: her
dark blue gown was ungirded, her dark hair loose and floating, the flowers
that had wreathed it, now faded, lying strewn upon the grass before
her: her feet bare for coolness’ sake, her left hand lying loose
and open upon her knee.
Yet though her body otherwise looked thus listless, in her face was
no listlessness, nor rest: her eyes were alert and clear, shining like
two stars in the heavens of dawn-tide; her lips were set close, her
brow knit, as of one striving to shape thoughts hard to understand into
words that all might understand.
So she sat noting all things, as woman by woman went past her into
the hall, till at last she slowly rose to her feet; for there came two
young women leading between them that same old carline with whom she
had talked on the Hill-of-Speech.  She looked on the carline steadfastly,
but gave no token of knowing her; but the ancient woman spoke when she
came near to the Hall-Sun, and old as her semblance was, yet did her
speech sound sweet to the Hall-Sun, and indeed to all those that heard
it and she said:
“May we be here to-night, O Hall-Sun, thou lovely Seeress of
the mighty Wolfings? may a wandering woman sit amongst you and eat the
meat of the Wolfings?”
Then spake the Hall-Sun in a sweet measured voice: “Surely
mother: all men who bring peace with them are welcome guests to the
Wolfings: nor will any ask thine errand, but we will let thy tidings
flow from thee as thou wilt.  This is the custom of the kindred,
and no word of mine own; I speak to thee because thou hast spoken to
me, but I have no authority here, being myself but an alien.  Albeit
I serve the House of the Wolfings, and I love it as the hound loveth
his master who feedeth him, and his master’s children who play
with him.  Enter, mother, and be glad of heart, and put away care
from thee.”
Then the old woman drew nigher to her and sat down in the dust at
her feet, for she was now sitting down again, and took her hand and
kissed it and fondled it, and seemed loth to leave handling the beauty
of the Hall-Sun; but she looked kindly on the carline, and smiled on
her, and leaned down to her, and kissed her mouth, and said:
“Damsels, take care of this poor woman, and make her good cheer;
for she is wise of wit, and a friend of the Wolfings; and I have seen
her before, and spoken with her; and she loveth us.  But as for
me I must needs be alone in the meads for a while; and it may be that
when I come to you again, I shall have a word to tell you.”
Now indeed it was in a manner true that the Hall-Sun had no authority
in the Wolfing House; yet was she so well beloved for her wisdom and
beauty and her sweet speech, that all hastened to do her will in small
matters and in great, and now as they looked at her after the old woman
had caressed her, it seemed to them that her fairness grew under their
eyes, and that they had never seen her so fair; and the sight of her
seemed so good to them, that the outworn day and its weariness changed
to them, and it grew as pleasant as the first hours of the sunlight,
when men arise happy from their rest, and look on the day that lieth
hopeful before them with all its deeds to be.
So they grew merry, and they led the carline into the Hall with them,
and set her down in the Women’s-Chamber, and washed her feet,
and gave her meat and drink, and bade her rest and think of nothing
troublous, and in all wise made her good cheer; and she was merry with
them, and praised their fairness and their deftness, and asked them
many questions about their weaving and spinning and carding; (howbeit
the looms were idle as then because it was midsummer, and the men gone
to the war).  And this they deemed strange, as it seemed to them
that all women should know of such things; but they thought it was a
token that she came from far away.
But afterwards she sat among them, and told them pleasant tales of
past times and far countries, and was blithe to them and they to her
and the time wore on toward nightfall in the Women’s-Chamber.
CHAPTER XI—THE HALL-SUN SPEAKETH
But for the Hall-Sun; she sat long on that stone by the Women’s-door;
but when the evening was now come, she arose and went down through the
cornfields and into the meadow, and wandered away as her feet took her.
Night was falling by then she reached that pool of Mirkwood-water,
whose eddies she knew so well.  There she let the water cover her
in the deep stream, and she floated down and sported with the ripples
where the river left that deep to race over the shallows; and the moon
was casting shadows by then she came up the bank again by the shallow
end bearing in her arms a bundle of the blue-flowering mouse-ear. 
Then she clad herself at once, and went straight as one with a set purpose
toward the Great Roof, and entered by the Man’s-door; and there
were few men within and they but old and heavy with the burden of years
and the coming of night-tide; but they wondered and looked to each other
and nodded their heads as she passed them by, as men who would say,
There is something toward.
So she went to her sleeping-place, and did on fresh raiment, and
came forth presently clad in white and shod with gold and having her
hair wreathed about with the herb of wonder, the blue-flowering mouse-ear
of Mirkwood-water.  Thus she passed through the Hall, and those
elders were stirred in their hearts when they beheld her beauty. 
But she opened the door of the Women’s-Chamber, and stood on the
threshold; and lo, there sat the carline amidst a ring of the Wolfing
women, and she telling them tales of old time such as they had not yet
heard; and her eyes were glittering, and the sweet words were flowing
from her mouth; but she sat straight up like a young woman; and at whiles
it seemed to those who hearkened, that she was no old and outworn woman,
but fair and strong, and of much avail.  But when she heard the
Hall-Sun she turned and saw her on the threshold, and her speech fell
suddenly, and all that might and briskness faded from her, and she fixed
her eyes on the Hall-Sun and looked wistfully and anxiously on her.
Then spake the Hall-Sun standing in the doorway:
 “Hear ye a matter, maidens, and ye Wolfing women
all,
And thou alien guest of the Wolfings!  But come ye up the hall,
That the ancient men may hearken: for methinks I have a word
Of the battle of the Kindreds, and the harvest of the sword.”
Then all arose up with great joy, for they knew that the tidings
were good, when they looked on the face of the Hall-Sun and beheld the
pride of her beauty unmarred by doubt or pain.
She led them forth to the dais, and there were the sick and the elders
gathered and some ancient men of the thralls: so she stepped lightly
up to her place, and stood under her namesake, the wondrous lamp of
ancient days.  And thus she spake:
 “On my soul there lies no burden, and no tangle
of the fight
In plain or dale or wild-wood enmeshes now my sight.
I see the Markmen’s wain-burg, and I see their warriors go
As men who wait for battle and the coming of the foe.
And they pass ’twixt the wood and the wain-burg within earshot
of the horn,
But over the windy meadows no sound thereof is borne,
And all is well amongst them.  To the burg I draw anigh
And I see all battle-banners in the breeze of morning fly,
But no Wolfings round their banner and no warrior of the Shield,
No Geiring and no Hrossing in the burg or on the field.”
She held her peace for a little while, and no one dared to speak;
then she lifted up her head and spake:
 “Now I go by the lip of the wild-wood and a sound
withal I hear,
As of men in the paths of the thicket, and a many drawing anear.
Then, muffled yet by the tree-boles, I hear the Shielding song,
And warriors blithe and merry with the battle of the strong.
Give back a little, Markmen, make way for men to pass
To your ordered battle-dwelling o’er the trodden meadow-grass,
For alive with men is the wild-wood and shineth with the steel,
And hath a voice most merry to tell of the Kindreds’ weal,
’Twixt each tree a warrior standeth come back from the spear-strewn
way,
And forth they come from the wild-wood and a little band are they.”
Then again was she silent; but her head sank not, as of one thinking,
as before it did, but she looked straight forward with bright eyes and
smiling, as she said:
 “Lo, now the guests they are bringing that ye have
not seen before;
Yet guests but ill-entreated; for they lack their shields of war,
No spear in the hand they carry and with no sax are girt.
Lo, these are the dreaded foemen, these once so strong to hurt;
The men that all folk fled from, the swift to drive the spoil,
The men that fashioned nothing but the trap to make men toil.
They drew the sword in the cities, they came and struck the stroke
And smote the shield of the Markmen, and point and edge they broke.
They drew the sword in the war-garth, they swore to bring aback
God’s gifts from the Markmen houses where the tables never lack.
O Markmen, take the God-gifts that came on their own feet
O’er the hills through the Mirkwood thicket the Stone of Tyr to
meet!”
Again she stayed her song, which had been loud and joyous, and they
who heard her knew that the Kindreds had gained the day, and whilst
the Hall-Sun was silent they fell to talking of this fair day of battle
and the taking of captives.  But presently she spread out her hands
again and they held their peace, and she said:
 “I see, O Wolfing women, and many a thing I see,
But not all things, O elders, this eve shall ye learn of me,
For another mouth there cometh: the thicket I behold
And the Sons of Tyr amidst it, and I see the oak-trees old,
And the war-shout ringing round them; and I see the battle-lord
Unhelmed amidst of the mighty; and I see his leaping sword;
Strokes struck and warriors falling, and the streaks of spears I see,
But hereof shall the other tell you who speaketh after me.
For none other than the Shieldings from out the wood have come,
And they shift the turn with the Daylings to drive the folk-spear home,
And to follow with the Wolfings and thrust the war-beast forth.
And so good men deem the tidings that they bid them journey north
On the feet of a Shielding runner, that Gisli hath to name;
And west of the water he wendeth by the way that the Wolfings came;
Now for sleep he tarries never, and no meat is in his mouth
Till the first of the Houses hearkeneth the tidings of the south;
Lo, he speaks, and the mead-sea sippeth, and the bread by the way doth
eat,
And over the Geiring threshold and outward pass his feet;
And he breasts the Burg of the Daylings and saith his happy word,
And stayeth to drink for a minute of the waves of Battleford.
Lone then by the stream he runneth, and wendeth the wild-wood road,
And dasheth through the hazels of the Oselings’ fair abode,
And the Elking women know it, and their hearts are glad once more,
And ye—yea, hearken, Wolfings, for his feet are at the door.”
CHAPTER XII—TIDINGS OF THE BATTLE IN MIRKWOOD
As the Hall-Sun made an end they heard in good sooth the feet of
the runner on the hard ground without the hall, and presently the door
opened and he came leaping over the threshold, and up to the table,
and stood leaning on it with one hand, his breast heaving with his last
swift run.  Then he spake presently:
“I am Gisli of the Shieldings: Otter sendeth me to the Hall-Sun;
but on the way I was to tell tidings to the Houses west of the Water:
so have I done.  Now is my journey ended; for Otter saith: ‘Let
the Hall-Sun note the tidings and send word of them by four of the lightest
limbed of the women, or by lads a-horseback, both west and east of the
Water; let her send the word as it seemeth to her, whether she hath
seen it or not.  I will drink a short draught since my running
is over.”
Then a damsel brought him a horn of mead and let it come into his
hand, and he drank sighing with pleasure, while the damsel for pleasure
of him and his tidings laid her hand on his shoulder.  Then he
set down the horn and spake:
“We, the Shieldings, with the Geirings, the Hrossings, and
the Wolfings, three hundred warriors and more, were led into the Wood
by Thiodolf the War-duke, beside whom went Fox, who hath seen the Romans. 
We were all afoot; for there is no wide way through the Wood, nor would
we have it otherwise, lest the foe find the thicket easy.  But
many of us know the thicket and its ways; so we made not the easy hard. 
I was near the War-duke, for I know the thicket and am light-foot: I
am a bowman.  I saw Thiodolf that he was unhelmed and bore no shield,
nor had he any coat of fence; nought but a deer-skin frock.”
As he said that word, the carline, who had drawn very near to him
and was looking hard at his face, turned and looked on the Hall-Sun
and stared at her till she reddened under those keen eyes: for in her
heart began to gather some knowledge of the tale of her mother and what
her will was.
But Gisli went on: “Yet by his side was his mighty sword, and
we all knew it for Throng-plough, and were glad of it and of him and
the unfenced breast of the dauntless.  Six hours we went spreading
wide through the thicket, not always seeing one another, but knowing
one another to be nigh; those that knew the thicket best led, the others
followed on.  So we went till it was high noon on the plain and
glimmering dusk in the thicket, and we saw nought, save here and there
a roe, and here and there a sounder of swine, and coneys where it was
opener, and the sun shone and the grass grew for a little space. 
So came we unto where the thicket ended suddenly, and there was a long
glade of the wild-wood, all set about with great oak-trees and grass
thereunder, which I knew well; and thereof the tale tells that it was
a holy place of the folk who abided in these parts before the Sons of
the Goths.  Now will I drink.”
So he drank of the horn and said: “It seemeth that Fox had
a deeming of the way the Romans should come; so now we abided in the
thicket without that glade and lay quiet and hidden, spreading ourselves
as much about that lawn of the oak-trees as we might, the while Fox
and three others crept through the wood to espy what might be toward:
not long had they been gone ere we heard a war-horn blow, and it was
none of our horns: it was a long way off, but we looked to our weapons:
for men are eager for the foe and the death that cometh, when they lie
hidden in the thicket.  A while passed, and again we heard the
horn, and it was nigher and had a marvellous voice; then in a while
was a little noise of men, not their voices, but footsteps going warily
through the brake to the south, and twelve men came slowly and warily
into that oak-lawn, and lo, one of them was Fox; but he was clad in
the raiment of the dastard of the Goths whom he had slain.  I tell
you my heart beat, for I saw that the others were Roman men, and one
of them seemed to be a man of authority, and he held Fox by the shoulder,
and pointed to the thicket where we lay, and something he said to him,
as we saw by his gesture and face, but his voice we heard not, for he
spake soft.
“Then of those ten men of his he sent back two, and Fox going
between them, as though he should be slain if he misled them; and he
and the eight abided there wisely and warily, standing silently some
six feet from each other, moving scarce at all, but looking like images
fashioned of brown copper and iron; holding their casting-spears (which
be marvellous heavy weapons) and girt with the sax.
“As they stood there, not out of earshot of a man speaking
in his wonted voice, our War-duke made a sign to those about him, and
we spread very quietly to the right hand and the left of him once more,
and we drew as close as might be to the thicket’s edge, and those
who had bows the nighest thereto.  Thus then we abided a while
again; and again came the horn’s voice; for belike they had no
mind to come their ways covertly because of their pride.
“Soon therewithal comes Fox creeping back to us, and I saw
him whisper into the ear of the War-duke, but heard not the word he
said.  I saw that he had hanging to him two Roman saxes, so I deemed
he had slain those two, and so escaped the Romans.  Maidens, it
were well that ye gave me to drink again, for I am weary and my journey
is done.”
So again they brought him the horn, and made much of him; and he
drank, and then spake on.
“Now heard we the horn’s voice again quite close, and
it was sharp and shrill, and nothing like to the roar of our battle-horns:
still was the wood and no wind abroad, not even down the oak-lawn; and
we heard now the tramp of many men as they thrashed through the small
wood and bracken of the thicket-way; and those eight men and their leader
came forward, moving like one, close up to the thicket where I lay,
just where the path passed into the thicket beset by the Sons of the
Goths: so near they were that I could see the dints upon their armour,
and the strands of the wire on their sax-handles.  Down then bowed
the tall bracken on the further side of the wood-lawn, the thicket crashed
before the march of men, and on they strode into the lawn, a goodly
band, wary, alert, and silent of cries.
“But when they came into the lawn they spread out somewhat
to their left hands, that is to say on the west side, for that way was
the clear glade; but on the east the thicket came close up to them and
edged them away.  Therein lay the Goths.
“There they stayed awhile, and spread out but a little, as
men marching, not as men fighting.  A while we let them be; and
we saw their captain, no big man, but dight with very fair armour and
weapons; and there drew up to him certain Goths armed, the dastards
of the folk, and another unarmed, an old man bound and bleeding. 
With these Goths had the captain some converse, and presently he cried
out two or three words of Welsh in a loud voice, and the nine men who
were ahead shifted them somewhat away from us to lead down the glade
westward.
“The prey had come into the net, but they had turned their
faces toward the mouth of it.
“Then turned Thiodolf swiftly to the man behind him who carried
the war-horn, and every man handled his weapons: but that man understood,
and set the little end to his mouth, and loud roared the horn of the
Markmen, and neither friend nor foe misdoubted the tale thereof. 
Then leaped every man to his feet, all bow-strings twanged and the cast-spears
flew; no man forebore to shout; each as he might leapt out of the thicket
and fell on with sword and axe and spear, for it was from the bowmen
but one shaft and no more.
“Then might you have seen Thiodolf as he bounded forward like
the wild-cat on the hare, how he had no eyes for any save the Roman
captain.  Foemen enough he had round about him after the two first
bounds from the thicket; for the Romans were doing their best to spread,
that they might handle those heavy cast-spears, though they might scarce
do it, just come out of the thicket as they were, and thrust together
by that onslaught of the kindreds falling on from two sides and even
somewhat from behind.  To right and left flashed Throng-plough,
while Thiodolf himself scarce seemed to guide it: men fell before him
at once, and close at his heels poured the Wolfing kindred into the
gap, and in a minute of time was he amidst of the throng and face to
face with the gold-dight captain.
“What with the sweep of Throng-plough and the Wolfing onrush,
there was space about him for a great stroke; he gave a side-long stroke
to his right and hewed down a tall Burgundian, and then up sprang the
white blade, but ere its edge fell he turned his wrist, and drove the
point through that Captain’s throat just above the ending of his
hauberk, so that he fell dead amidst of his folk.
“All the four kindreds were on them now, and amidst them, and
needs must they give way: but stoutly they fought; for surely no other
warriors might have withstood that onslaught of the Markmen for the
twinkling of an eye: but had the Romans had but the space to have spread
themselves out there, so as to handle their shot-weapons, many a woman’s
son of us had fallen; for no man shielded himself in his eagerness,
but let the swiftness of the Onset of point-and-edge shield him; which,
sooth to say, is often a good shield, as here was found.
“So those that were unslain and unhurt fled west along the
glade, but not as dastards, and had not Thiodolf followed hard in the
chase according to his wont, they might even yet have made a fresh stand
and spread from oak-tree to oak-tree across the glade: but as it befel,
they might not get a fair offing so as to disentangle themselves and
array themselves in good order side by side; and whereas the Markmen
were fleet of foot, and in the woods they knew, there were a many aliens
slain in the chase or taken alive unhurt or little hurt: but the rest
fled this way and that way into the thicket, with whom were some of
the Burgundians; so there they abide now as outcasts and men unholy,
to be slain as wild-beasts one by one as we meet them.
“Such then was the battle in Mirkwood.  Give me the mead-horn
that I may drink to the living and the dead, and the memory of the dead,
and the deeds of the living that are to be.”
So they brought him the horn, and he waved it over his head and drank
again and spake:
“Sixty and three dead men of the Romans we counted there up
and down that oak-glade; and we cast earth over them; and three dead
dastards of the Goths, and we left them for the wolves to deal with. 
And twenty-five men of the Romans we took alive to be for hostages if
need should be, and these did we Shielding men, who are not very many,
bring aback to the wain-burg; and the Daylings, who are a great company,
were appointed to enter the wood and be with Thiodolf; and me did Otter
bid to bear the tidings, even as I have told you.  And I have not
loitered by the way.”
Great then was the joy in the Hall; and they took Gisli, and made
much of him, and led him to the bath, and clad him in fine raiment taken
from the coffer which was but seldom opened, because the cloths it held
were precious; and they set a garland of green wheat-ears on his head. 
Then they fell to and spread the feast in the hall; and they ate and
drank and were merry.
But as for speeding the tidings, the Hall-Sun sent two women and
two lads, all a-horseback, to bear the words: the women to remember
the words which she taught them carefully, the lads to be handy with
the horses, or in the ford, or the swimming of the deeps, or in the
thicket.  So they went their ways, down the water: one pair went
on the western side, and the other crossed Mirkwood-water at the shallows
(for being Midsummer the water was but small), and went along the east
side, so that all the kindred might know of the tidings and rejoice.
Great was the glee in the Hall, though the warriors of the House
were away, and many a song and lay they sang: but amidst the first of
the singing they bethought them of the old woman, and would have bidden
her tell them some tale of times past, since she was so wise in the
ancient lore.  But when they sought for her on all sides she was
not to be found, nor could anyone remember seeing her depart from the
Hall.  But this had they no call to heed, and the feast ended,
as it began, in great glee.
Albeit the Hall-Sun was troubled about the carline, both that she
had come, and that she had gone: and she determined that the next time
she met her she would strive to have of her a true tale of what she
was, and of all that was toward.
CHAPTER XIII—THE HALL-SUN SAITH ANOTHER WORD
It was no later than the next night, and a many of what thralls were
not with the host were about in the feast-hall with the elders and lads
and weaklings of the House; for last night’s tidings had drawn
them thither.  Gisli had gone back to his kindred and the wain-burg
in the Upper-mark, and the women were sitting, most of them, in the
Women’s-Chamber, some of them doing what little summer work needed
doing about the looms, but more resting from their work in field and
acre.
Then came the Hall-Sun forth from her room clad in glittering raiment,
and summoned no one, but went straight to her place on the dais under
her namesake the Lamp, and stood there a little without speaking. 
Her face was pale now, her lips a little open, her eyes set and staring
as if they saw nothing of all that was round about her.
Now went the word through the Hall and the Women’s-Chamber
that the Hall-Sun would speak again, and that great tidings were toward;
so all folk came flock-meal to the dais, both thralls and free; and
scarce were all gathered there, ere the Hall-Sun began speaking, and
said:
 “The days of the world thrust onward, and men are
born therein
A many and a many, and divers deeds they win
In the fashioning of stories for the kindreds of the earth,
A garland interwoven of sorrow and of mirth.
To the world a warrior cometh; from the world he passeth away,
And no man then may sunder his good from his evil day.
By the Gods hath he been tormented, and been smitten by the foe:
He hath seen his maiden perish, he hath seen his speech-friend go:
His heart hath conceived a joyance and hath brought it unto birth:
But he hath not carried with him his sorrow or his mirth.
He hath lived, and his life hath fashioned the outcome of the deed,
For the blossom of the people, and the coming kindreds’ seed.
“Thus-wise the world is fashioned, and the new sun of the morn
Where earth last night was desert beholds a kindred born,
That to-morrow and to-morrow blossoms all gloriously
With many a man and maiden for the kindreds yet to be,
And fair the Goth-folk groweth.  And yet the story saith
That the deeds that make the summer make too the winter’s death,
That summer-tides unceasing from out the grave may grow
And the spring rise up unblemished from the bosom of the snow.
“Thus as to every kindred the day comes once for all
When yesterday it was not, and to-day it builds the hall,
So every kindred bideth the night-tide of the day,
Whereof it knoweth nothing, e’en when noon is past away.
E’en thus the House of the Wolfings ’twixt dusk and dark
doth stand,
And narrow is the pathway with the deep on either hand.
On the left are the days forgotten, on the right the days to come,
And another folk and their story in the stead of the Wolfing home.
Do the shadows darken about it, is the even here at last?
Or is this but a storm of the noon-tide that the wind is driving past?
“Unscathed as yet it standeth; it bears the stormy drift,
Nor bows to the lightening flashing adown from the cloudy lift.
I see the hail of battle and the onslaught of the strong,
And they go adown to the folk-mote that shall bide there over long.
I see the slain-heaps rising and the alien folk prevail,
And the Goths give back before them on the ridge o’er the treeless
vale.
I see the ancient fallen, and the young man smitten dead,
And yet I see the War-duke shake Throng-plough o’er his head,
And stand unhelmed, unbyrnied before the alien host,
And the hurt men rise around him to win back battle lost;
And the wood yield up her warriors, and the whole host rushing on,
And the swaying lines of battle until the lost is won.
Then forth goes the cry of triumph, as they ring the captives round
And cheat the crow of her portion and heap the warriors’ mound.
There are faces gone from our feast-hall not the least beloved nor worst,
But the wane of the House of the Wolfings not yet the world hath cursed.
The sun shall rise to-morrow on our cold and dewy roof,
For they that longed for slaughter were slaughtered far aloof.”
She ceased for a little, but her countenance, which had not changed
during her song, changed not at all now: so they all kept silence although
they were rejoicing in this new tale of victory; for they deemed that
she was not yet at the end of her speaking.  And in good sooth
she spake again presently, and said:
 “I wot not what hath befallen nor where my soul
may be,
For confusion is within me and but dimly do I see,
As if the thing that I look on had happed a while ago.
They stand by the tofts of a war-garth, a captain of the foe,
And a man that is of the Goth-folk, and as friend and friend they speak,
But I hear no word they are saying, though for every word I seek.
And now the mist flows round me and blind I come aback
To the House-roof of the Wolfings and the hearth that hath no lack.”
Her voice grew weaker as she spake the last words, and she sank backward
on to her chair: her clenched hands opened, the lids fell down over
her bright eyes, her breast heaved no more as it had done, and presently
she fell asleep.
The folk were doubtful and somewhat heavy-hearted because of those
last words of hers; but they would not ask her more, or rouse her from
her sleep, lest they should grieve her; so they departed to their beds
and slept for what was yet left of the night.
CHAPTER XIV—THE HALL-SUN IS CAREFUL CONCERNING THE PASSES
OF THE WOOD
In the morning early folk arose; and the lads and women who were
not of the night-shift got them ready to go to the mead and the acres;
for the sunshine had been plenty these last days and the wheat was done
blossoming, and all must be got ready for harvest.  So they broke
their fast, and got their tools into their hands: but they were somewhat
heavy-hearted because of those last words of the Hall-Sun, and the doubt
of last night still hung about them, and they were scarcely as merry
as men are wont to be in the morning.
As for the Hall-Sun, she was afoot with the earliest, and was no
less, but mayhap more merry than her wont was, and was blithe with all,
both old and young.
But as they were at the point of going she called to them, and said:
“Tarry a little, come ye all to the dais and hearken to me.”
So they all gathered thereto, and she stood in her place and spake.
“Women and elders of the Wolfings, is it so that I spake somewhat
of tidings last night?”
“Yea,” said they all.
She said, “And was it a word of victory?”
They answered “yea” again.
“Good is that,” she said; “doubt ye not! there
is nought to unsay.  But hearken!  I am nothing wise in war
like Thiodolf or Otter of the Laxings, or as Heriulf the Ancient was,
though he was nought so wise as they be.  Nevertheless ye shall
do well to take me for your captain, while this House is bare of warriors.”
“Yea, yea,” they said, “so will we.”
And an old warrior, hight Sorli, who sat in his chair, no longer
quite way-worthy, said:
“Hall-Sun, this we looked for of thee; since thy wisdom is
not wholly the wisdom of a spae-wife, but rather is of the children
of warriors: and we know thine heart to be high and proud, and that
thy death seemeth to thee a small matter beside the life of the Wolfing
House.”
Then she smiled and said, “Will ye all do my bidding?”
And they all cried out heartily, “Yea, Hall-Sun, that will
we.”
She said: “Hearken then; ye all know that east of Mirkwood-water,
when ye come to the tofts of the Bearings, and their Great Roof, the
thicket behind them is close, but that there is a wide way cut through
it; and often have I gone there: if ye go by that way, in a while ye
come to the thicket’s end and to bare places where the rocks crop
up through the gravel and the woodland loam.  There breed the coneys
without number; and wild-cats haunt the place for that sake, and foxes;
and the wood-wolf walketh there in summer-tide, and hard by the she-wolf
hath her litter of whelps, and all these have enough; and the bald-head
erne hangeth over it and the kite, and also the kestril, for shrews
and mice abound there.  Of these things there is none that feareth
me, and none that maketh me afraid.  Beyond this place for a long
way the wood is nowise thick, for first grow ash-trees about the clefts
of the rock and also quicken-trees, but not many of either; and here
and there a hazel brake easy to thrust through; then comes a space of
oak-trees scattered about the lovely wood-lawn, and then at last the
beech-wood close above but clear beneath.  This I know well, because
I myself have gone so far and further; and by this easy way have I gone
so far to the south, that I have come out into the fell country, and
seen afar off the snowy mountains beyond the Great Water.
“Now fear ye not, but pluck up a heart!  For either I
have seen it or dreamed it, or thought it, that by this road easy to
wend the Romans should come into the Mark.  For shall not those
dastards and traitors that wear the raiment and bodies of the Goths
over the hearts and the lives of foemen, tell them hereof?  And
will they not have heard of our Thiodolf, and this my holy namesake?
“Will they not therefore be saying to themselves, ‘Go
to now, why should we wrench the hinges off the door with plenteous
labour, when another door to the same chamber standeth open before us? 
This House of the Wolfings is the door to the treasure chamber of the
Markmen; let us fall on that at once rather than have many battles for
other lesser matters, and then at last have to fight for this also:
for having this we have all, and they shall be our thralls, and we may
slaughter what we will, and torment what we will and deflower what we
will, and make our souls glad with their grief and anguish, and take
aback with us to the cities what we will of the thralls, that their
anguish and our joy may endure the longer.’  Thus will they
say: therefore is it my rede that the strongest and hardiest of you
women take horse, a ten of you and one to lead besides, and ride the
shallows to the Bearing House, and tell them of our rede; which is to
watch diligently the ways of the wood; the outgate to the Mark, and
the places where the wood is thin and easy to travel on: and ye shall
bid them give you of their folk as many as they deem fittest thereto
to join your company, so that ye may have a chain of watchers stretching
far into the wilds; but two shall lie without the wood, their horses
ready for them to leap on and ride on the spur to the wain-burg in the
Upper-mark if any tidings befal.
“Now of these eleven I ordain Hrosshild to be the leader and
captain, and to choose for her fellows the stoutest-limbed and heaviest-handed
of all the maidens here: art thou content Hrosshild?”
Then stood Hrosshild forth and said nought, but nodded yea; and soon
was her choice made amid jests and laughter, for this seemed no hard
matter to them.
So the ten got together, and the others fell off from them, and there
stood the ten maidens with Hrosshild, well nigh as strong as men, clean-limbed
and tall, tanned with sun and wind; for all these were unwearied afield,
and oft would lie out a-nights, since they loved the lark’s song
better than the mouse’s squeak; but as their kirtles shifted at
neck and wrist, you might see their skins as white as privet-flower
where they were wont to be covered.
Then said the Hall-Sun: “Ye have heard the word, see ye to
it, Hrosshild, and take this other word also: Bid the Bearing stay-at-homes
bide not the sword and the torch at home if the Romans come, but hie
them over hither, to hold the Hall or live in the wild-wood with us,
as need may be; for might bides with many.
“But ye maidens, take this counsel for yourselves; do ye each
bear with you a little keen knife, and if ye be taken, and it seem to
you that ye may not bear the smart of the Roman torments (for they be
wise in tormenting), but will speak and bewray us under them, then thrust
this little edge tool into the place of your bodies where the life lieth
closest, and so go to the Gods with a good tale in your mouths: so may
the Almighty God of Earth speed you, and the fathers of the kindred!”
So she spoke; and they made no delay but each one took what axe or
spear or sword she liked best, and two had their bows and quivers of
arrows; and so all folk went forth from the Hall.
Soon were the horses saddled and bridled, and the maidens bestrode
them joyously and set forth on their way, going down the lanes of the
wheat, and rode down speedily toward the shallows of the water, and
all cried good speed after them.  But the others would turn to
their day’s work, and would go about their divers errands. 
But even as they were at point to sunder, they saw a swift runner passing
by those maidens just where the acres joined the meadow, and he waved
his hand aloft and shouted to them, but stayed not his running for them,
but came up the lanes of the wheat at his swiftest: so they knew at
once that this was again a messenger from the host, and they stood together
and awaited his coming; and as he drew near they knew him for Egil,
the swiftest-footed of the Wolfings; and he gave a great shout as he
came among them; and he was dusty and way-worn, but eager; and they
received him with all love, and would have brought him to the Hall to
wash him and give him meat and drink, and cherish him in all ways.
But he cried out, “To the Speech-Hill first, to the Speech-Hill
first!  But even before that, one word to thee, Hall-Sun! 
Saith Thiodolf, Send ye watchers to look to the entrance into Mid-mark,
which is by the Bearing dwelling; and if aught untoward befalleth let
one ride on the spur with the tidings to the Wain-burg.  For by
that way also may peril come.”
Then smiled some of the bystanders, and the Hall-Sun said: “Good
is it when the thought of a friend stirreth betimes in one’s own
breast.  The thing is done, Egil; or sawest thou not those ten
women, and Hrosshild the eleventh, as thou camest up into the acres?”
Said Egil; “Fair fall thine hand, Hall-Sun! thou art the Wolfings’
Ransom.  Wend we now to the Speech-Hill.”
So did they, and every thrall that was about the dwellings, man,
woman, and child fared with them, and stood about the Speech-Hill: and
the dogs went round about the edge of that assembly, wandering in and
out, and sometimes looking hard on some one whom they knew best, if
he cried out aloud.
But the men-folk gave all their ears to hearkening, and stood as
close as they might.
Then Egil clomb the Speech-Hill, and said.
CHAPTER XV—THEY HEAR TELL OF THE BATTLE ON THE RIDGE
“Ye have heard how the Daylings were appointed to go to help
Thiodolf in driving the folk-spear home to the heart of the Roman host. 
So they went; but six hours thereafter comes one to Otter bidding him
send a great part of the kindreds to him; for that he had had tidings
that a great host of Romans were drawing near the wood-edge, but were
not entered therein, and that fain would he meet them in the open field.
“So the kindreds drew lots, and the lot fell first to the Elkings,
who are a great company, as ye know; and then to the Hartings, the Beamings,
the Alftings, the Vallings (also a great company), the Galtings, (and
they no lesser) each in their turn; and last of all to the Laxings;
and the Oselings prayed to go with the Elkings, and this Otter deemed
good, whereas a many of them be bowmen.
“All these then to the number of a thousand or more entered
the wood; and I was with them, for in sooth I was the messenger.
“No delay made we in the wood, nor went we over warily, trusting
to the warding of the wood by Thiodolf; and there were men with us who
knew the paths well, whereof I was one; so we speedily came through
into the open country.
“Shortly we came upon our folk and the War-duke lying at the
foot of a little hill that went up as a buttress to a long ridge high
above us, whereon we set a watch; and a little brook came down the dale
for our drink.
“Night fell as we came thither; so we slept for a while, but
abode not the morning, and we were afoot (for we had no horses with
us) before the moon grew white.  We took the road in good order,
albeit our folk-banners we had left behind in the burg; so each kindred
raised aloft a shield of its token to be for a banner.  So we went
forth, and some swift footmen, with Fox, who hath seen the Roman war-garth,
had been sent on before to spy out the ways of the foemen.
“Two hours after sunrise cometh one of these, and telleth how
he hath seen the Romans, and how that they are but a short mile hence
breaking their fast, not looking for any onslaught; ‘but,’
saith he, ‘they are on a high ridge whence they can see wide about,
and be in no danger of ambush, because the place is bare for the most
part, nor is there any cover except here and there down in the dales
a few hazels and blackthorn bushes, and the rushes of the becks in the
marshy bottoms, wherein a snipe may hide, or a hare, but scarce a man;
and note that there is no way up to that ridge but by a spur thereof
as bare as my hand; so ye will be well seen as ye wend up thereto.’
“So spake he in my hearing.  But Thiodolf bade him lead
on to that spur, and old Heriulf, who was standing nigh, laughed merrily
and said: ‘Yea, lead on, and speedily, lest the day wane and nothing
done save the hunting of snipes.’
“So on we went, and coming to the hither side of that spur
beheld those others and Fox with them; and he held in his hand an arrow
of the aliens, and his face was all astir with half-hidden laughter,
and he breathed hard, and pointed to the ridge, and somewhat low down
on it we saw a steel cap and three spear-heads showing white from out
a little hollow in its side, but the men hidden by the hollow: so we
knew that Fox had been chased, and that the Romans were warned and wary.
“No delay made the War-duke, but led us up that spur, which
was somewhat steep; and as we rose higher we saw a band of men on the
ridge, a little way down it, not a many; archers and slingers mostly,
who abode us till we were within shot, and then sent a few shots at
us, and so fled.  But two men were hurt with the sling-plummets,
and one, and he not grievously, with an arrow, and not one slain.
“Thus we came up on to the ridge, so that there was nothing
between us and the bare heavens; thence we looked south-east and saw
the Romans wisely posted on the ridge not far from where it fell down
steeply to the north; but on the south, that is to say on their left
hands, and all along the ridge past where we were stayed, the ground
sloped gently to the south-west for a good way, before it fell, somewhat
steeply, into another long dale.  Looking north we saw the outer
edge of Mirkwood but a little way from us, and we were glad thereof;
because ere we left our sleeping-place that morn Thiodolf had sent to
Otter another messenger bidding him send yet more men on to us in case
we should be hard-pressed in the battle; for he had had a late rumour
that the Romans were many.  And now when he had looked on the Roman
array and noted how wise it was, he sent three swift-foot ones to take
stand on a high knoll which we had passed on the way, that they might
take heed where our folk came out from the wood and give signal to them
by the horn, and lead them to where the battle should be.
“So we stood awhile and breathed us, and handled our weapons
some half a furlong from the alien host.  They had no earth rampart
around them, for that ridge is waterless, and they could not abide there
long, but they had pitched sharp pales in front of them and they stood
in very good order, as if abiding an onslaught, and moved not when they
saw us; for that band of shooters had joined themselves to them already. 
Taken one with another we deemed them to be more than we were; but their
hauberked footmen with the heavy cast-spears not so many as we by a
good deal.
“Now we were of mind to fall on them ere they should fall on
us; so all such of us as had shot-weapons spread out from our company
and went forth a little; and of the others Heriulf stood foremost along
with the leaders of the Beamings and the Elkings; but as yet Thiodolf
held aback and led the midmost company, as his wont was, and the more
part of the Wolfings were with him.
“Thus we ordered ourselves, and awaited a little while yet
what the aliens should do; and presently a war-horn blew amongst them,
and from each flank of their mailed footmen came forth a many bowmen
and slingers and a band of horsemen; and drew within bowshot, the shooters
in open array yet wisely, and so fell to on us, and the horsemen hung
aback a little as yet.
“Their arrow-shot was of little avail, their bowmen fell fast
before ours; but deadly was their sling-shot, and hurt and slew many
and some even in our main battle; for they slung round leaden balls
and not stones, and they aimed true and shot quick; and the men withal
were so light and lithe, never still, but crouching and creeping and
bounding here and there, that they were no easier to hit than coneys
amidst of the fern, unless they were very nigh.
“Howbeit when this storm had endured a while, and we moved
but little, and not an inch aback, and gave them shot for shot, then
was another horn winded from amongst the aliens; and thereat the bowmen
cast down their bows, and the slingers wound their slings about their
heads, and they all came on with swords and short spears and feathered
darts, running and leaping lustily, making for our flanks, and the horsemen
set spurs to their horses and fell on in the very front of our folk
like good and valiant men-at-arms.
“That saw Heriulf and his men, and they set up the war-whoop,
and ran forth to meet them, axe and sword aloft, terribly yet maybe
somewhat unwarily.  The archers and slingers never came within
sword-stroke of them, but fell away before them on all sides; but the
slingers fled not far, but began again with their shot, and slew a many. 
Then was a horn winded, as if to call back the horsemen, who, if they
heard, heeded not, but rode hard on our kindred like valiant warriors
who feared not death.  Sooth to say, neither were the horses big
or good, nor the men fit for the work, saving for their hardihood; and
their spears were short withal and their bucklers unhandy to wield.
“Now could it be seen how the Goths gave way before them to
let them into the trap, and then closed around again, and the axes and
edge weapons went awork hewing as in a wood; and Heriulf towered over
all the press, and the Wolf’s-sister flashed over his head in
the summer morning.
“Soon was that storm over, and we saw the Goths tossing up
their spears over the slain, and horses running loose and masterless
adown over the westward-lying slopes, and a few with their riders still
clinging to them.  Yet some, sore hurt by seeming, galloping toward
the main battle of the Romans.
“Unwarily then fared the children of Tyr that were with Heriulf;
for by this time they were well nigh within shot of the spears of those
mighty footmen of the Romans: and on their flanks were the slingers,
and the bowmen, who had now gotten their bows again; and our bowmen,
though they shot well and strong, were too few to quell them; and indeed
some of them had cast by their bows to join in Heriulf’s storm. 
Also the lie of the ground was against us, for it sloped up toward the
Roman array at first very gently, but afterwards steeply enough to breathe
a short-winded man.  Also behind them were we of the other kindreds,
whom Thiodolf had ordered into the wedge-array; and we were all ready
to move forward, so that had they abided somewhat, all had been well
and better.
“So did they not, but straightway set up the Victory-whoop
and ran forward on the Roman host.  And these were so ordered that,
as aforesaid, they had before them sharp piles stuck into the earth
and pointed against us, as we found afterwards to our cost; and within
these piles stood the men some way apart from each other, so as to handle
their casting spears, and in three ranks were they ordered and many
spears could be cast at once, and if any in the front were slain, his
fellow behind him took his place.
“So now the storm of war fell at once upon our folk, and swift
and fierce as was their onslaught yet were a many slain and hurt or
ever they came to the piles aforesaid.  Then saw they death before
them and heeded it nought, but tore up the piles and dashed through
them, and fell in on those valiant footmen.  Short is the tale
to tell: wheresoever a sword or spear of the Goths was upraised there
were three upon him, and saith Toti of the Beamings, who was hurt and
crawled away and yet lives, that on Heriulf there were six at first
and then more; and he took no thought of shielding himself, but raised
up the Wolf’s-sister and hewed as the woodman in the thicket,
when night cometh and hunger is on him.  There fell Heriulf the
Ancient and many a man of the Beamings and the Elkings with him, and
many a Roman.
“But amidst the slain and the hurt our wedge-array moved forward
slowly now, warily shielded against the plummets and shafts on either
side; and when the Romans saw our unbroken array, and Thiodolf the first
with Throng-plough naked in his hand, they chased not such men of ours
unhurt or little hurt, as drew aback from before them: so these we took
amongst us, and when we had gotten all we might, and held a grim face
to the foe, we drew aback little by little, still facing them till we
were out of shot of their spears, though the shot of the arrows and
the sling-plummets ceased not wholly from us.  Thus ended Heriulf’s
Storm.”
Then he rested from his speaking for a while, and none said aught,
but they gazed on him as if he bore with him a picture of the battle,
and many of the women wept silently for Heriulf, and yet more of the
younger ones were wounded to the heart when they thought of the young
men of the Elkings, and the Beamings, since with both those houses they
had affinity; and they lamented the loves that they had lost, and would
have asked concerning their own speech-friends had they durst. 
But they held their peace till the tale was told out to an end.
Then Egil spake again:
“No long while had worn by in Heriulf’s Storm, and though
men’s hearts were nothing daunted, but rather angered by what
had befallen, yet would Thiodolf wear away the time somewhat more, since
he hoped for succour from the Wain-burg and the Wood; and he would not
that any of these Romans should escape us, but would give them all to
Tyr, and to be a following to Heriulf the Old and the Great.
“So there we abided a while moving nought, and Thiodolf stood
with Throng-plough on his shoulder, unhelmed, unbyrnied, as though he
trusted to the kindred for all defence.  Nor for their part did
the Romans dare to leave their vantage-ground, when they beheld what
grim countenance we made them.
“Albeit, when we had thrice made as if we would fall on, and
yet they moved not, whereas it trieth a man sorely to stand long before
the foeman, and do nought but endure, and whereas many of our bowmen
were slain or hurt, and the rest too few to make head against the shot-weapons
of the aliens, then at last we began to draw nearer and a little nearer,
not breaking the wedge-array; and at last, just before we were within
shot of the cast-spears of their main battle, loud roared our war-horn:
then indeed we broke the wedge-array, but orderly as we knew how, spreading
out from right and left of the War-duke till we were facing them in
a long line: one minute we abode thus, and then ran forth through the
spear-storm: and even therewith we heard, as it were, the echo of our
own horn, and whoso had time to think betwixt the first of the storm
and the handstrokes of the Romans deemed that now would be coming fresh
kindreds for our helping.
“Not long endured the spear-rain, so swift we were, neither
were we in one throng as betid in Heriulf’s Storm, but spread
abroad, each trusting in the other that none thought of the backward
way.
“Though we had the ground against us we dashed like fresh men
at their pales, and were under the weapons at once.  Then was the
battle grim; they could not thrust us back, nor did we break their array
with our first storm; man hewed at man as if there were no foes in the
world but they two: sword met sword, and sax met sax; it was thrusting
and hewing with point and edge, and no long-shafted weapons were of
any avail; there we fought hand to hand and no man knew by eyesight
how the battle went two yards from where he fought, and each one put
all his heart in the stroke he was then striking, and thought of nothing
else.
“Yet at the last we felt that they were faltering and that
our work was easier and our hope higher; then we cried our cries and
pressed on harder, and in that very nick of time there arose close behind
us the roar of the Markmen’s horn and the cries of the kindreds
answering ours.  Then such of the Romans as were not in the very
act of smiting, or thrusting, or clinging or shielding, turned and fled,
and the whoop of victory rang around us, and the earth shook, and past
the place of the slaughter rushed the riders of the Goths; for they
had sent horsemen to us, and the paths were grown easier for our much
treading of them.  Then I beheld Thiodolf, that he had just slain
a foe, and clear was the space around him, and he rushed sideways and
caught hold of the stirrup of Angantyr of the Bearings, and ran ten
strides beside him, and then bounded on afoot swifter than the red horses
of the Bearings, urging on the chase, as his wont was.
“But we who were wearier, when we had done our work, stood
still between the living and the dead, between the freemen of the Mark
and their war-thralls.  And in no long while there came back to
us Thiodolf and the chasers, and we made a great ring on the field of
the slain, and sang the Song of Triumph; and it was the Wolfing Song
that we sang.
“Thus then ended Thiodolf’s Storm.”
When he held his peace there was but little noise among the stay-at-homes,
for still were they thinking about the deaths of their kindred and their
lovers.  But Egil spoke again.
“Yet within that ring lay the sorrow of our hearts; for Odin
had called a many home, and there lay their bodies; and the mightiest
was Heriulf; and the Romans had taken him up from where he fell, and
cast him down out of the way, but they had not stripped him, and his
hand still gripped the Wolf’s-sister.  His shield was full
of shafts of arrows and spears; his byrny was rent in many places, his
helm battered out of form.  He had been grievously hurt in the
side and in the thigh by cast-spears or ever he came to hand-blows with
the Romans, but moreover he had three great wounds from the point of
the sax, in the throat, in the side, in the belly, each enough for his
bane.  His face was yet fair to look on, and we deemed that he
had died smiling.
“At his feet lay a young man of the Beamings in a gay green
coat, and beside him was the head of another of his House, but his green-clad
body lay some yards aloof.  There lay of the Elkings a many. 
Well may ye weep, maidens, for them that loved you.  Now fare they
to the Gods a goodly company, but a goodly company is with them.
“Seventy and seven of the Sons of the Goths lay dead within
the Roman battle, and fifty-four on the slope before it; and to boot
there were twenty-four of us slain by the arrows and plummets of the
shooters, and a many hurt withal.
“But there were no hurt men inside the Roman array or before
it.  All were slain outright, for the hurt men either dragged themselves
back to our folk, or onward to the Roman ranks, that they might die
with one more stroke smitten.
“Now of the aliens the dead lay in heaps in that place, for
grim was the slaughter when the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings
fell on the aliens; and a many of the foemen scorned to flee, but died
where they stood, craving no peace; and to few of them was peace given. 
There fell of the Roman footmen five hundred and eighty and five, and
the remnant that fled was but little: but of the slingers and bowmen
but eighty and six were slain, for they were there to shoot and not
to stand; and they were nimble and fleet of foot, men round of limb,
very dark-skinned, but not foul of favour.”
Then he said:
 “There are men through the dusk a-faring, our speech-fiends
and our kin,
No more shall they crave our helping, nor ask what work to win;
They have done their deeds and departed when they had holpen the House,
So high their heads are holden, and their hurts are glorious
With the story of strokes stricken, and new weapons to be met,
And new scowling of foes’ faces, and new curses unknown yet.
Lo, they dight the feast in Godhome, and fair are the tables spread,
Late come, but well-belovéd is every war-worn head,
And the God-folk and the Fathers, as these cross the tinkling bridge,
Crowd round and crave for stories of the Battle on the Ridge.”
Therewith he came down from the Speech-Hill and the women-folk came
round about him, and they brought him to the Hall, and washed him, and
gave him meat and drink; and then would he sleep, for he was weary.
Howbeit some of the women could not refrain themselves, but must
needs ask after their speech-friends who had been in the battle; and
he answered as he could, and some he made glad, and some sorry; and
as to some, he could not tell them whether their friends were alive
or dead.  So he went to his place and fell asleep and slept long,
while the women went down to acre and meadow, or saw to the baking of
bread or the sewing of garments, or went far afield to tend the neat
and the sheep.
Howbeit the Hall-Sun went not with them; but she talked with that
old warrior, Sorli, who was now halt and grown unmeet for the road,
but was a wise man; and she and he together with some old carlines and
a few young lads fell to work, and saw to many matters about the Hall
and the garth that day; and they got together what weapons there were
both for shot and for the handplay, and laid them where they were handy
to come at, and they saw to the meal in the hall that there was provision
for many days; and they carried up to a loft above the Women’s-Chamber
many great vessels of water, lest the fire should take the Hall; and
they looked everywhere to the entrances and windows and had fastenings
and bolts and bars fashioned and fitted to them; and saw that all things
were trim and stout.  And so they abided the issue.
CHAPTER XVI—HOW THE DWARF-WROUGHT HAUBERK WAS BROUGHT AWAY
FROM THE HALL OF THE DAYLINGS
Now it must be told that early in the morning, after the night when
Gisli had brought to the Wolfing Stead the tidings of the Battle in
the Wood, a man came riding from the south to the Dayling abode. 
It was just before sunrise, and but few folk were stirring about the
dwellings.  He rode up to the Hall and got off his black horse,
and tied it to a ring in the wall by the Man’s-door, and went
in clashing, for he was in his battle-gear, and had a great wide-rimmed
helm on his head.
Folk were but just astir in the Hall, and there came an old woman
to him, and looked on him and saw by his attire that he was a man of
the Goths and of the Wolfing kindred; so she greeted him kindly: but
he said:
“Mother, I am come hither on an errand, and time presses.”
Said she: “Yea, my son, or what tidings bearest thou from the
south? for by seeming thou art new-come from the host.”
Said he: “The tidings are as yesterday, save that Thiodolf
will lead the host through the wild-wood to look for the Romans beyond
it: therefore will there soon be battle again.  See ye, Mother,
hast thou here one that knoweth this ring of Thiodolf’s, if perchance
men doubt me when I say that I am sent on my errand by him?”
“Yea,” she said, “Agni will know it; since he knoweth
all the chief men of the Mark; but what is thine errand, and what is
thy name?”
“It is soon told,” said he, “I am a Wolfing hight
Thorkettle, and I come to have away for Thiodolf the treasure of the
world, the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk, which he left with you when we fared
hence to the south three days ago.  Now let Agni come, that I may
have it, for time presses sorely.”
There were three or four gathered about them now, and a maiden of
them said: “Shall I bring Agni hither, mother?”
“What needeth it?” said the carline, “he sleepeth,
and shall be hard to awaken; and he is old, so let him sleep. 
I shall go fetch the hauberk, for I know where it is, and my hand may
come on it as easily as on mine own girdle.”
So she went her ways to the treasury where were the precious things
of the kindred; the woven cloths were put away in fair coffers to keep
them clean from the whirl of the Hall-dust and the reek; and the vessels
of gold and some of silver were standing on the shelves of a cupboard
before which hung a veil of needlework: but the weapons and war-gear
hung upon pins along the wall, and many of them had much fair work on
them, and were dight with gold and gems: but amidst them all was the
wondrous hauberk clear to see, dark grey and thin, for it was so wondrously
wrought that it hung in small compass.  So the carline took it
down from the pin, and handled it, and marvelled at it, and said:
“Strange are the hands that have passed over thee, sword-rampart,
and in strange places of the earth have they dwelt!  For no smith
of the kindreds hath fashioned thee, unless he had for his friend either
a God or a foe of the Gods.  Well shalt thou wot of the tale of
sword and spear ere thou comest back hither!  For Thiodolf shall
bring thee where the work is wild.”
Then she went with the hauberk to the new-come warrior, and made
no delay, but gave it to him, and said:
“When Agni awaketh, I shall tell him that Thorkettle of the
Wolfings hath borne aback to Thiodolf the Treasure of the World, the
Dwarf-wrought Hauberk.”
Then Thorkettle took it and turned to go; but even therewith came
old Asmund from out of his sleeping-place, and gazed around the Hall,
and his eyes fell on the shape of the Wolfing as he was going out of
the door, and he asked the carline.
“What doeth he here?  What tidings is there from the host? 
For my soul was nought unquiet last night.”
“It is a little matter,” she said; “the War-duke
hath sent for the wondrous Byrny that he left in our treasury when he
departed to meet the Romans.  Belike there shall be a perilous
battle, and few hearts need a stout sword-wall more than Thiodolf’s.”
As she spoke, Thorkettle had passed the door, and got into his saddle,
and sat his black horse like a mighty man as he slowly rode down the
turf bridge that led into the plain.  And Asmund went to the door
and stood watching him till he set spurs to his horse, and departed
a great gallop to the south.  Then said Asmund:
 “What then are the Gods devising, what wonders
do they will?
What mighty need is on them to work the kindreds ill,
That the seed of the Ancient Fathers and a woman of their kin
With her all unfading beauty must blend herself therein?
Are they fearing lest the kindreds should grow too fair and great,
And climb the stairs of God-home, and fashion all their fate,
And make all earth so merry that it never wax the worse,
Nor need a gift from any, nor prayers to quench the curse?
Fear they that the Folk-wolf, growing as the fire from out the spark
Into a very folk-god, shall lead the weaponed Mark
From wood to field and mountain, to stand between the earth
And the wrights that forge its thraldom and the sword to slay its mirth?
Fear they that the sons of the wild-wood the Loathly Folk shall quell,
And grow into Gods thereafter, and aloof in God-home dwell?”
Therewith he turned back into the Hall, and was heavy-hearted and
dreary of aspect; for he was somewhat foreseeing; and it may not be
hidden that this seeming Thorkettle was no warrior of the Wolfings,
but the Wood-Sun in his likeness; for she had the power and craft of
shape-changing.
CHAPTER XVII—THE WOOD-SUN SPEAKETH WITH THIODOLF
Now the Markmen laid Heriulf in howe on the ridge-crest where he
had fallen, and heaped a mighty howe over him that could be seen from
far, and round about him they laid the other warriors of the kindreds. 
For they deemed it was fittest that they should lie on the place whose
story they had fashioned.  But they cast earth on the foemen lower
down on the westward-lying bents.
The sun set amidst their work, and night came on; and Thiodolf was
weary and would fain rest him and sleep: but he had many thoughts, and
pondered whitherward he should lead the folk, so as to smite the Romans
once again, and he had a mind to go apart and be alone for rest and
slumber; so he spoke to a man of the kindred named Solvi in whom he
put all trust, and then he went down from the ridge, and into a little
dale on the southwest side thereof, a furlong from the place of the
battle.  A beck ran down that dale, and the further end of it was
closed by a little wood of yew trees, low, but growing thick together,
and great grey stones were scattered up and down on the short grass
of the dale.  Thiodolf went down to the brook-side, and to a place
where it trickled into a pool, whence it ran again in a thin thread
down the dale, turning aside before it reached the yew-wood to run its
ways under low ledges of rock into a wider dale.  He looked at
the pool and smiled to himself as if he had thought of something that
pleased him; then he drew a broad knife from his side, and fell to cutting
up turfs till he had what he wanted; and then he brought stones to the
place, and built a dam across the mouth of the pool, and sat by on a
great stone to watch it filling.
As he sat he strove to think about the Roman host and how he should
deal with it; but despite himself his thoughts wandered, and made for
him pictures of his life that should be when this time of battle was
over; so that he saw nothing of the troubles that were upon his hands
that night, but rather he saw himself partaking in the deeds of the
life of man.  There he was between the plough-stilts in the acres
of the kindred when the west wind was blowing over the promise of early
spring; or smiting down the ripe wheat in the hot afternoon amidst the
laughter and merry talk of man and maid; or far away over Mirkwood-water
watching the edges of the wood against the prowling wolf and lynx, the
stars just beginning to shine over his head, as now they were; or wending
the windless woods in the first frosts before the snow came, the hunter’s
bow or javelin in hand: or coming back from the wood with the quarry
on the sledge across the snow, when winter was deep, through the biting
icy wind and the whirl of the drifting snow, to the lights and music
of the Great Roof, and the merry talk therein and the smiling of the
faces glad to see the hunting-carles come back; and the full draughts
of mead, and the sweet rest a night-tide when the north wind was moaning
round the ancient home.
All seemed good and fair to him, and whiles he looked around him,
and saw the long dale lying on his left hand and the dark yews in its
jaws pressing up against the rock-ledges of the brook, and on his right
its windings as the ground rose up to the buttresses of the great ridge. 
The moon was rising over it, and he heard the voice of the brook as
it tinkled over the stones above him; and the whistle of the plover
and the laugh of the whimbrel came down the dale sharp and clear in
the calm evening; and sounding far away, because the great hill muffled
them, were the voices of his fellows on the ridge, and the songs of
the warriors and the high-pitched cries of the watch.  And this
also was a part of the sweet life which was, and was to be; and he smiled
and was happy and loved the days that were coming, and longed for them,
as the young man longs for the feet of his maiden at the trysting-place.
So as he sat there, the dreams wrapping him up from troublous thoughts,
at last slumber overtook him, and the great warrior of the Wolfings
sat nodding like an old carle in the chimney ingle, and he fell asleep,
his dreams going with him, but all changed and turned to folly and emptiness.
He woke with a start in no long time; the night was deep, the wind
had fallen utterly, and all sounds were stilled save the voice of the
brook, and now and again the cry of the watchers of the Goths. 
The moon was high and bright, and the little pool beside him glittered
with it in all its ripples; for it was full now and trickling over the
lip of his dam.  So he arose from the stone and did off his war-gear,
casting Throng-plough down into the grass beside him, for he had been
minded to bathe him, but the slumber was still on him, and he stood
musing while the stream grew stronger and pushed off first one of his
turfs and then another, and rolled two or three of the stones over,
and then softly thrust all away and ran with a gush down the dale, filling
all the little bights by the way for a minute or two; he laughed softly
thereat, and stayed the undoing of his kirtle, and so laid himself down
on the grass beside the stone looking down the dale, and fell at once
into a dreamless sleep.
When he awoke again, it was yet night, but the moon was getting lower
and the first beginnings of dawn were showing in the sky over the ridge;
he lay still a moment gathering his thoughts and striving to remember
where he was, as is the wont of men waking from deep sleep; then he
leapt to his feet, and lo, he was face to face with a woman, and she
who but the Wood-Sun? and he wondered not, but reached out his hand
to touch her, though he had not yet wholly cast off the heaviness of
slumber or remembered the tidings of yesterday.
She drew aback a little from him, and his eyes cleared of the slumber,
and he saw her that she was scantily clad in black raiment, barefoot,
with no gold ring on her arms or necklace on her neck, or crown about
her head.  But she looked so fair and lovely even in that end of
the night-tide, that he remembered all her beauty of the day and the
sunshine, and he laughed aloud for joy of the sight of her, and said:
“What aileth thee, O Wood-Sun, and is this a new custom of
thy kindred and the folk of God-home that their brides array themselves
like thralls new-taken, and as women who have lost their kindred and
are outcast?  Who then hath won the Burg of the Anses, and clomb
the rampart of God-home?”
But she spoke from where she stood in a voice so sweet, that it thrilled
to the very marrow of his bones.
 “I have dwelt a while with sorrow since we met,
we twain, in the wood:
I have mourned, while thou hast been merry, who deemest the war-play
good.
For I know the heart of the wilful and how thou wouldst cast away
The rampart of thy life-days, and the wall of my happy day.
Yea I am the thrall of Sorrow; she hath stripped my raiment off
And laid sore stripes upon me with many a bitter scoff.
Still bidding me remember that I come of the God-folk’s kin,
And yet for all my godhead no love of thee may win.”
Then she looked longingly at him a while and at last could no longer
refrain her, but drew nigh him and took his hands in hers, and kissed
his mouth, and said as she caressed him:
 “O where are thy wounds, beloved? how turned the
spear from thy breast,
When the storm of war blew strongest, and the best men met the best?
Lo, this is the tale of to-day: but what shall to-morrow tell?
That Thiodolf the Mighty in the fight’s beginning fell;
That there came a stroke ill-stricken, there came an aimless thrust,
And the life of the people’s helper lay quenched in the summer
dust.”
He answered nothing, but smiled as though the sound of her voice
and the touch of her hand were pleasant to him, for so much love there
was in her, that her very grief was scarcely grievous.  But she
said again:
 “Thou sayest it: I am outcast; for a God that lacketh
mirth
Hath no more place in God-home and never a place on earth.
A man grieves, and he gladdens, or he dies and his grief is gone;
But what of the grief of the Gods, and the sorrow never undone?
Yea verily I am the outcast.  When first in thine arms I lay
On the blossoms of the woodland my godhead passed away;
Thenceforth unto thee was I looking for the light and the glory of life
And the Gods’ doors shut behind me till the day of the uttermost
strife.
And now thou hast taken my soul, thou wilt cast it into the night,
And cover thine head with the darkness, and turn thine eyes from the
light.
Thou wouldst go to the empty country where never a seed is sown
And never a deed is fashioned, and the place where each is alone;
But I thy thrall shall follow, I shall come where thou seemest to lie,
I shall sit on the howe that hides thee, and thou so dear and nigh!
A few bones white in their war-gear that have no help or thought,
Shall be Thiodolf the Mighty, so nigh, so dear—and nought.”
His hands strayed over her shoulders and arms, caressing them, and
he said softly and lovingly:
 “I am Thiodolf the Mighty: but as wise as I may
be
No story of that grave-night mine eyes can ever see,
But rather the tale of the Wolfings through the coming days of earth,
And the young men in their triumph and the maidens in their mirth;
And morn’s promise every evening, and each day the promised morn,
And I amidst it ever reborn and yet reborn.
This tale I know, who have seen it, who have felt the joy and pain,
Each fleeing, each pursuing, like the links of the draw-well’s
chain:
But that deedless tide of the grave-mound, and the dayless nightless
day,
E’en as I strive to see it, its image wanes away.
What say’st thou of the grave-mound? shall I be there at all
When they lift the Horn of Remembrance, and the shout goes down the
hall,
And they drink the Mighty War-duke and Thiodolf the old?
Nay rather; there where the youngling that longeth to be bold
Sits gazing through the hall-reek and sees across the board
A vision of the reaping of the harvest of the sword,
There shall Thiodolf be sitting; e’en there shall the youngling
be
That once in the ring of the hazels gave up his life to thee.”
She laughed as he ended, and her voice was sweet, but bitter was
her laugh.  Then she said:
 “Nay thou shalt be dead, O warrior, thou shalt
not see the Hall
Nor the children of thy people ’twixt the dais and the wall.
And I, and I shall be living; still on thee shall waste my thought:
I shall long and lack thy longing; I shall pine for what is nought.”
But he smiled again, and said:
 “Not on earth shall I learn this wisdom; and how
shall I learn it then
When I lie alone in the grave-mound, and have no speech with men?
But for thee,—O doubt it nothing that my life shall live in thee,
And so shall we twain be loving in the days that yet shall be.”
It was as if she heard him not; and she fell aback from him a little
and stood silently for a while as one in deep thought; and then turned
and went a few paces from him, and stooped down and came back again
with something in her arms (and it was the hauberk once more), and said
suddenly:
 “O Thiodolf, now tell me for what cause thou wouldst
not bear
This grey wall of the hammer in the tempest of the spear?
Didst thou doubt my faith, O Folk-wolf, or the counsel of the Gods,
That thou needs must cast thee naked midst the flashing battle-rods,
Or is thy pride so mighty that it seemed to thee indeed
That death was a better guerdon than the love of the Godhead’s
seed?”
But Thiodolf said: “O Wood-Sun, this thou hast a right to ask
of me, why I have not worn in the battle thy gift, the Treasure of the
World, the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk!  And what is this that thou sayest? 
I doubt not thy faith towards me and thine abundant love: and as for
the rede of the Gods, I know it not, nor may I know it, nor turn it
this way nor that: and as for thy love and that I would choose death
sooner, I know not what thou meanest; I will not say that I love thy
love better than life itself; for these two, my life and my love, are
blended together and may not be sundered.
“Hearken therefore as to the Hauberk: I wot well that it is
for no light matter that thou wouldst have me bear thy gift, the wondrous
hauberk, into battle; I deem that some doom is wrapped up in it; maybe
that I shall fall before the foe if I wear it not; and that if I wear
it, somewhat may betide me which is unmeet to betide a warrior of the
Wolfings.  Therefore will I tell thee why I have fought in two
battles with the Romans with unmailed body, and why I left the hauberk,
(which I see that thou bearest in thine arms) in the Roof of the Daylings. 
For when I entered therein, clad in the hauberk, there came to meet
me an ancient man, one of the very valiant of days past, and he looked
on me with the eyes of love, as though he had been the very father of
our folk, and I the man that was to come after him to carry on the life
thereof.  But when he saw the hauberk and touched it, then was
his love smitten cold with sadness and he spoke words of evil omen;
so that putting this together with thy words about the gift, and that
thou didst in a manner compel me to wear it, I could not but deem that
this mail is for the ransom of a man and the ruin of a folk.
“Wilt thou say that it is not so? then will I wear the hauberk,
and live and die happy.  But if thou sayest that I have deemed
aright, and that a curse goeth with the hauberk, then either for the
sake of the folk I will not wear the gift and the curse, and I shall
die in great glory, and because of me the House shall live; or else
for thy sake I shall bear it and live, and the House shall live or die
as may be, but I not helping, nay I no longer of the House nor in it. 
How sayest thou?”
Then she said:
 “Hail be thy mouth, beloved, for that last word
of thine,
And the hope that thine heart conceiveth and the hope that is born in
mine.
Yea, for a man’s delivrance was the hauberk born indeed
That once more the mighty warrior might help the folk at need.
And where is the curse’s dwelling if thy life be saved to dwell
Amidst the Wolfing warriors and the folk that loves thee well
And the house where the high Gods left thee to be cherished well therein?
“Yea more: I have told thee, beloved, that thou art not of
the kin;
The blood in thy body is blended of the wandering Elking race,
And one that I may not tell of, who in God-home hath his place,
And who changed his shape to beget thee in the wild-wood’s leafy
roof.
How then shall the doom of the Wolfings be woven in the woof
Which the Norns for thee have shuttled? or shall one man of war
Cast down the tree of the Wolfings on the roots that spread so far?
O friend, thou art wise and mighty, but other men have lived
Beneath the Wolfing roof-tree whereby the folk has thrived.”
He reddened at her word; but his eyes looked eagerly on her. 
She cast down the hauberk, and drew one step nigher to him.  She
knitted her brows, her face waxed terrible, and her stature seemed to
grow greater, as she lifted up her gleaming right arm, and cried out
in a great voice.
 “Thou Thiodolf the Mighty!  Hadst thou will
to cast the net
And tangle the House in thy trouble, it is I would slay thee yet;
For ’tis I and I that love them, and my sorrow would I give,
And thy life, thou God of battle, that the Wolfing House might live.”
Therewith she rushed forward, and cast herself upon him, and threw
her arms about him, and strained him to her bosom, and kissed his face,
and he her in likewise, for there was none to behold them, and nought
but the naked heaven was the roof above their heads.
And now it was as if the touch of her face and her body, and the
murmuring of her voice changed and soft close to his ear, as she murmured
mere words of love to him, drew him away from the life of deeds and
doubts and made a new world for him, wherein he beheld all those fair
pictures of the happy days that had been in his musings when first he
left the field of the dead.
So they sat down on the grey stone together hand in hand, her head
laid upon his shoulder, no otherwise than if they had been two lovers,
young and without renown in days of deep peace.
So as they sat, her foot smote on the cold hilts of the sword, which
Thiodolf had laid down in the grass; and she stooped and took it up,
and laid it across her knees and his as they sat there; and she looked
on Throng-plough as he lay still in the sheath, and smiled on him, and
saw that the peace-strings were not yet wound about his hilts. 
So she drew him forth and raised him up in her hand, and he gleamed
white and fearful in the growing dawn, for all things had now gotten
their colours again, whereas amidst their talking had the night worn,
and the moon low down was grown white and pale.
But she leaned aside, and laid her cheek against Thiodolf’s,
and he took the sword out of her hand and set it on his knees again,
and laid his right hand on it, and said:
 “Two things by these blue edges in the face of
the dawning I swear;
And first this warrior’s ransom in the coming fight to bear,
And evermore to love thee who hast given me second birth.
And by the sword I swear it, and by the Holy Earth,
To live for the House of the Wolfings, and at last to die for their
need.
For though I trow thy saying that I am not one of their seed,
Nor yet by the hand have been taken and unto the Father shown
As a very son of the Fathers, yet mid them hath my body grown;
And I am the guest of their Folk-Hall, and each one there is my friend.
So with them is my joy and sorrow, and my life, and my death in the
end.
Now whatso doom hereafter my coming days shall bide,
Thou speech-friend, thou deliverer, thine is this dawning-tide.”
She spoke no word to him; but they rose up and went hand in hand
down the dale, he still bearing his naked sword over his shoulder, and
thus they went together into the yew-copse at the dale’s end. 
There they abode till after the rising of the sun, and each to each
spake many loving words at their departure; and the Wood-Sun went her
ways at her will.
But Thiodolf went up the dale again, and set Throng-plough in his
sheath, and wound the peace-strings round him.  Then he took up
the hauberk from the grass whereas the Wood-Sun had cast it, and did
it on him, as it were of the attire he was wont to carry daily. 
So he girt Throng-plough to him, and went soberly up to the ridge-top
to the folk, who were just stirring in the early morning.
CHAPTER XVIII—TIDINGS BROUGHT TO THE WAIN-BURG
Now it must be told of Otter and they of the Wain-burg how they had
the tidings of the overthrow of the Romans on the Ridge, and that Egil
had left them on his way to Wolf-stead.  They were joyful of the
tale, as was like to be, but eager also to strike their stroke at the
foemen, and in that mood they abode fresh tidings.
It has been told how Otter had sent the Bearings and the Wormings
to the aid of Thiodolf and his folk, and these two were great kindreds,
and they being gone, there abode with Otter, one man with another, thralls
and freemen, scant three thousand men: of these many were bowmen good
to fight from behind a wall or fence, or some such cover, but scarce
meet to withstand a shock in the open field.  However it was deemed
at this time in the Wain-burg that Thiodolf and his men would soon return
to them; and in any case, they said, he lay between the Romans and the
Mark, so that they had but little doubt; or rather they feared that
the Romans might draw aback from the Mark before they could be met in
battle again, for as aforesaid they were eager for the fray.
Now it was in the cool of the evening two days after the Battle on
the Ridge, that the men, both freemen and thralls, had been disporting
themselves in the plain ground without the Burg in casting the spear
and putting the stone, and running races a-foot and a-horseback, and
now close on sunset three young men, two of the Laxings and one of the
Shieldings, and a grey old thrall of that same House, were shooting
a match with the bow, driving their shafts at a rushen roundel hung
on a pole which the old thrall had dight.  Men were peaceful and
happy, for the time was fair and calm, and, as aforesaid, they dreaded
not the Roman Host any more than if they were Gods dwelling in God-home. 
The shooters were deft men, and they of the Burg were curious to note
their deftness, and many were breathed with the games wherein they had
striven, and thought it good to rest, and look on the new sport: so
they sat and stood on the grass about the shooters on three sides, and
the mead-horn went briskly from man to man; for there was no lack of
meat and drink in the Burg, whereas the kindreds that lay nighest to
it had brought in abundant provision, and women of the kindreds had
come to them, and not a few were there scattered up and down among the
carles.
Now the Shielding man, Geirbald by name, had just loosed at the mark,
and had shot straight and smitten the roundel in the midst, and a shout
went up from the onlookers thereat; but that shout was, as it were,
lined with another, and a cry that a messenger was riding toward the
Burg: thereat most men looked round toward the wood, because their minds
were set on fresh tidings from Thiodolf’s company, but as it happened
it was from the north and the side toward Mid-mark that they on the
outside of the throng had seen the rider coming; and presently the word
went from man to man that so it was, and that the new comer was a young
man on a grey horse, and would speedily be amongst them; so they wondered
what the tidings might be, but yet they did not break up the throng,
but abode in their places that they might receive the messenger more
orderly; and as the rider drew near, those who were nighest to him perceived
that it was a woman.
So men made way before the grey horse, and its rider, and the horse
was much spent and travel-worn.  So the woman rode right into the
ring of warriors, and drew rein there, and lighted down slowly and painfully,
and when she was on the ground could scarce stand for stiffness; and
two or three of the swains drew near her to help her, and knew her at
once for Hrosshild of the Wolfings, for she was well-known as a doughty
woman.
Then she said: “Bring me to Otter the War-duke; or bring him
hither to me, which were best, since so many men are gathered together;
and meanwhile give me to drink; for I am thirsty and weary.”
So while one went for Otter, another reached to her the mead-horn,
and she had scarce done her draught, ere Otter was there, for they had
found him at the gate of the Burg.  He had many a time been in
the Wolfing Hall, so he knew her at once and said:
“Hail, Hrosshild! how farest thou?”
She said: “I fare as the bearer of evil tidings.  Bid
thy folk do on their war-gear and saddle their horses, and make no delay;
for now presently shall the Roman host be in Mid-mark!”
Then cried Otter: “Blow up the war-horn! get ye all to your
weapons and be ready to leap on your horses, and come ye to the Thing
in good order kindred by kindred: later on ye shall hear Hrosshild’s
story as she shall tell it to me!”
Therewith he led her to a grassy knoll that was hard by, and set
her down thereon and himself beside her, and said:
“Speak now, damsel, and fear not!  For now shall one fate
go over us all, either to live together or die together as the free
children of Tyr, and friends of the Almighty God of the Earth. 
How camest thou to meet the Romans and know of their ways and to live
thereafter?”
She said: “Thus it was: the Hall-Sun bethought her how that
the eastern ways into Mid-mark that bring a man to the thicket behind
the Roof of the Bearings are nowise hard, even for an host; so she sent
ten women, and me the eleventh to the Bearing dwelling and the road
through the thicket aforesaid; and we were to take of the Bearing stay-at-homes
whomso we would that were handy, and then all we to watch the ways for
fear of the Romans.  And methinks she has had some vision of their
ways, though mayhap not altogether clear.
“Anyhow we came to the Bearing dwellings, and they gave us
of their folk eight doughty women and two light-foot lads, and so we
were twenty and one in all.
“So then we did as the Hall-Sun bade us, and ordained a chain
of watchers far up into the waste; and these were to sound a point of
war upon their horns each to each till the sound thereof should come
to us who lay with our horses hoppled ready beside us in the fair plain
of the Mark outside the thicket.
“To be short, the horns waked us up in the midst of yesternight,
and of the watches also came to us the last, which had heard the sound
amidst the thicket, and said that it was certainly the sound of the
Goths’ horn, and the note agreed on.  Therefore I sent a
messenger at once to the Wolfing Roof to say what was toward; but to
thee I would not ride until I had made surer of the tidings; so I waited
awhile, and then rode into the wild-wood; and a long tale I might make
both of the waiting and the riding, had I time thereto; but this is
the end of it; that going warily a little past where the thicket thinneth
and the road endeth, I came on three of those watches or links in the
chain we had made, and half of another watch or link; that is to say
six women, who were come together after having blown their horns and
fled (though they should rather have abided in some lurking-place to
espy whatever might come that way) and one other woman, who had been
one of the watch much further off, and had spoken with the furthest
of all, which one had seen the faring of the Roman Host, and that it
was very great, and no mere band of pillagers or of scouts.  And,
said this fleer (who was indeed half wild with fear), that while they
were talking together, came the Romans upon them, and saw them; and
a band of Romans beat the wood for them when they fled, and she, the
fleer, was at point to be taken, and saw two taken indeed, and haled
off by the Roman scourers of the wood.  But she escaped and so
came to the others on the skirts of the thicket, having left of her
skin and blood on many a thornbush and rock by the way.
“Now when I heard this, I bade this fleer get her home to the
Bearings as swiftly as she might, and tell her tale; and she went away
trembling, and scarce knowing whether her feet were on earth or on water
or on fire; but belike failed not to come there, as no Romans were before
her.
“But for the others, I sent one to go straight to Wolf-stead
on the heels of the first messenger, to tell the Hall-Sun what had befallen,
and other five I set to lurk in the thicket, whereas none could lightly
lay hands on them, and when they had new tidings, to flee to Wolf-stead
as occasion might serve them; and for myself I tarried not, but rode
on the spur to tell thee hereof.
“But my last word to thee, Otter, is that by the Hall-sun’s
bidding the Bearings will not abide fire and steel at their own stead,
but when they hear true tidings of the Romans being hard at hand, will
take with them all that is not too hot or too heavy to carry, and go
their ways unto Wolf-stead: and the tidings will go up and down the
Mark on both sides of the water, so that whatever is of avail for defence
will gather there at our dwelling, and if we fall, goodly shall be the
howe heaped over us, even if ye come not in time.
“Now have I told thee what I needs must and there is no need
to question me more, for thou hast it all—do thou what thou hast
to do!”
With that word she cast herself down on the grass by the mound-side,
and was presently asleep, for she was very weary.
But all the time she had been telling her tale had the horn been
sounding, and there were now a many warriors gathered and more coming
in every moment: so Otter stood up on the mound after he had bidden
a man of his House to bring him his horse and war-gear, and abided a
little, till, as might be said, the whole host was gathered: then he
bade cry silence, and spake:
“Sons of Tyr, now hath an Host of the Romans gotten into the
Mark; a mighty host, but not so mighty that it may not be met. 
Few words are best: let the Steerings, who are not many, but are men
well-tried in war and wisdom abide in the Burg along with the fighting
thralls: but let the Burg be broken up and moved from the place, and
let its warders wend towards Mid-mark, but warily and without haste,
and each night let them make the wain-garth and keep good watch.
“But know ye that the Romans shall fall with all their power
on the Wolfing dwellings, deeming that when they have that, they shall
have all that is ours with ourselves also.  For there is the Hall-Sun
under the Great Roof, and there hath Thiodolf, our War-duke, his dwelling-place;
therefore shall all of us, save those that abide with the wains, take
horse, and ride without delay, and cross the water at Battleford, so
that we may fall upon the foe before they come west of the water; for
as ye know there is but one ford whereby a man wending straight from
the Bearings may cross Mirkwood-water, and it is like that the foe will
tarry at the Bearing stead long enough to burn and pillage it.
“So do ye order yourselves according to your kindreds, and
let the Shieldings lead.  Make no more delay!  But for me
I will now send a messenger to Thiodolf to tell him of the tidings,
and then speedily shall he be with us.  Geirbald, I see thee; come
hither!”
Now Geirbald stood amidst the Shieldings, and when Otter had spoken,
he came forth bestriding a white horse, and with his bow slung at his
back.  Said Otter: “Geirbald, thou shalt ride at once through
the wood, and find Thiodolf; and tell him the tidings, and that in nowise
he follow the Roman fleers away from the Mark, nor to heed anything
but the trail of the foemen through the south-eastern heaths of Mirkwood,
whether other Romans follow him or not: whatever happens let him lead
the Goths by that road, which for him is the shortest, towards the defence
of the Wolfing dwellings.  Lo thou, my ring for a token! 
Take it and depart in haste.  Yet first take thy fellow Viglund
the Woodman with thee, lest if perchance one fall, the other may bear
the message.  Tarry not, nor rest till thy word be said!”
Then turned Geirbald to find Viglund who was anigh to him, and he
took the ring, and the twain went their ways without more ado, and rode
into the wild-wood.
But about the wain-burg was there plenteous stir of men till all
was ordered for the departure of the host, which was no long while,
for there was nothing to do but on with the war-gear and up on to the
horse.
Forth then they went duly ordered in their kindreds towards the head
of the Upper-mark, riding as swiftly as they might without breaking
their array.
CHAPTER XIX—THOSE MESSENGERS COME TO THIODOLF
Of Geirbald and Viglund the tale tells that they rode the woodland
paths as speedily as they might.  They had not gone far, and were
winding through a path amidst of a thicket mingled of the hornbeam and
holly, betwixt the openings of which the bracken grew exceeding tall,
when Viglund, who was very fine-eared, deemed that he heard a horse
coming to meet them: so they lay as close as they might, and drew back
their horses behind a great holly-bush lest it should be some one or
more of the foes who had fled into the wood when the Romans were scattered
in that first fight.  But as the sound drew nearer, and it was
clearly the footsteps of a great horse, they deemed it would be some
messenger from Thiodolf, as indeed it turned out: for as the new-comer
fared on, somewhat unwarily, they saw a bright helm after the fashion
of the Goths amidst of the trees, and then presently they knew by his
attire that he was of the Bearings, and so at last they knew him to
be Asbiorn of the said House, a doughty man; so they came forth to meet
him and he drew rein when he saw armed men, but presently beholding
their faces he knew them and laughed on them, and said:
“Hail fellows! what tidings are toward?”
“These,” said Viglund, “that thou art well met,
since now shalt thou turn back and bring us to Thiodolf as speedily
as may be.”
But Asbiorn laughed and said: “Nay rather turn about with me;
or why are ye so grim of countenance?”
“Our errand is no light one,” said Geirbald, “but
thou, why art thou so merry?”
“I have seen the Romans fall,” said he, “and belike
shall soon see more of that game: for I am on an errand to Otter from
Thiodolf: the War-duke, when he had questioned some of those whom we
took on the Day of the Ridge, began to have a deeming that the Romans
had beguiled us, and will fall on the Mark by the way of the south-east
heaths: so now is he hastening to fetch a compass and follow that road
either to overtake them or prevent them; and he biddeth Otter tarry
not, but ride hard along the water to meet them if he may, or ever they
have set their hands to the dwellings of my House.  And belike
when I have done mine errand to Otter I shall ride with him to look
on these burners and slayers once more; therefore am I merry. 
Now for your tidings, fellows.”
Said Geirbald: “Our tidings are that both our errands are prevented,
and come to nought: for Otter hath not tarried, but hath ridden with
all his folk toward the stead of thine House.  So shalt thou indeed
see these burners and slayers if thou ridest hard; since we have tidings
that the Romans will by now be in Mid-mark.  And as for our errand,
it is to bid Thiodolf do even as he hath done.  Hereby may we see
how good a pair of War-dukes we have gotten, since each thinketh of
the same wisdom.  Now take we counsel together as to what we shall
do; whether we shall go back to Otter with thee, or thou go back to
Thiodolf with us; or else each go the road ordained for us.”
Said Asbiorn: “To Otter will I ride as I was bidden, that I
may look on the burning of our roof, and avenge me of the Romans afterwards;
and I bid you, fellows, ride with me, since fewer men there are with
Otter, and he must be the first to bide the brunt of battle.”
“Nay,” said Geirbald, “as for me ye must even lose
a man’s aid; for to Thiodolf was I sent, and to Thiodolf will
I go: and bethink thee if this be not best, since Thiodolf hath but
a deeming of the ways of the Romans and we wot surely of them. 
Our coming shall make him the speedier, and the less like to turn back
if any alien band shall follow after him.  What sayest thou, Viglund?”
Said Viglund: “Even as thou, Geirbald: but for myself I deem
I may well turn back with Asbiorn.  For I would serve the House
in battle as soon as may be; and maybe we shall slaughter these kites
of the cities, so that Thiodolf shall have no work to do when he cometh.”
Said Asbiorn; “Geirbald, knowest thou right well the ways through
the wood and on the other side thereof, to the place where Thiodolf
abideth? for ye see that night is at hand.”
“Nay, not over well,” said Geirbald.
Said Asbiorn: “Then I rede thee take Viglund with thee; for
he knoweth them yard by yard, and where they be hard and where they
be soft.  Moreover it were best indeed that ye meet Thiodolf betimes;
for I deem not but that he wendeth leisurely, though always warily,
because he deemeth not that Otter will ride before to-morrow morning. 
Hearken, Viglund!  Thiodolf will rest to-night on the other side
of the water, nigh to where the hills break off into the sheer cliffs
that are called the Kites’ Nest, and the water runneth under them,
coming from the east: and before him lieth the easy ground of the eastern
heaths where he is minded to wend to-morrow betimes in the morning:
and if ye do your best ye shall be there before he is upon the road,
and sure it is that your tidings shall hasten him.”
“Thou sayest sooth,” saith Geirbald, “tarry we
no longer; here sunder our ways; farewell!”
“Farewell,” said he, “and thou, Viglund, take this
word in parting, that belike thou shalt yet see the Romans, and strike
a stroke, and maybe be smitten.  For indeed they be most mighty
warriors.”
Then made they no delay but rode their ways either side.  And
Geirbald and Viglund rode over rough and smooth all night, and were
out of the thick wood by day-dawn: and whereas they rode hard, and Viglund
knew the ways well, they came to Mirkwood-water before the day was old,
and saw that the host was stirring, but not yet on the way.  And
or ever they came to the water’s edge, they were met by Wolfkettle
of the Wolfings, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and three others who were
but just come from the place where the hurt men lay down in a dale near
the Great Ridge; there had Wolfkettle and Hiarandi been tending Toti
of the Beamings, their fellow-in-arms, who had been sorely hurt in the
battle, but was doing well, and was like to live.  So when they
saw the messengers, they came up to them and hailed them, and asked
them if the tidings were good or evil.
“That is as it may be,” said Geirbald, “but they
are short to tell; the Romans are in Mid-mark, and Otter rideth on the
spur to meet them, and sendeth us to bid Thiodolf wend the heaths to
fall in on them also.  Nor may we tarry one minute ere we have
seen Thiodolf.”
Said Wolfkettle, “We will lead you to him; he is on the east
side of the water, with all his host, and they are hard on departing.”
So they went down the ford, which was not very deep; and Wolfkettle
rode the ford behind Geirbald, and another man behind Viglund; but Hiarandi
went afoot with the others beside the horses, for he was a very tall
man.
But as they rode amidst the clear water Wolfkettle lifted up his
voice and sang:
 “White horse, with what are ye laden as ye wade
the shallows warm,
But with tidings of the battle, and the fear of the fateful storm?
What loureth now behind us, what pileth clouds before,
On either hand what gathereth save the stormy tide of war?
Now grows midsummer mirky, and fallow falls the morn,
And dusketh the Moon’s Sister, and the trees look overworn;
God’s Ash tree shakes and shivers, and the sheer cliff standeth
white
As the bones of the giants’ father when the Gods first fared to
fight.”
And indeed the morning had grown mirky and grey and threatening,
and from far away the thunder growled, and the face of the Kite’s
Nest showed pale and awful against a dark steely cloud; and a few drops
of rain pattered into the smooth water before them from a rag of the
cloud-flock right over head.  They were in mid stream now, for
the water was wide there; on the eastern bank were the warriors gathering,
for they had beheld the faring of those men, and the voice of Wolfkettle
came to them across the water, so they deemed that great tidings were
toward, and would fain know on what errand those were come.
Then the waters of the ford deepened till Hiarandi was wading more
than waist-deep, and the water flowed over Geirbald’s saddle;
then Wolfkettle laughed, and turning as he sat, dragged out his sword,
and waved it from east to west and sang:
 “O sun, pale up in heaven, shrink from us if thou
wilt,
And turn thy face from beholding the shock of guilt with guilt!
Stand still, O blood of summer! and let the harvest fade,
Till there be nought but fallow where once was bloom and blade!
O day, give out but a glimmer of all thy flood of light,
If it be but enough for our eyen to see the road of fight!
Forget all else and slumber, if still ye let us wake,
And our mouths shall make the thunder, and our swords shall the lightening
make,
And we shall be the storm-wind and drive the ruddy rain,
Till the joy of our hearts in battle bring back the day again.”
As he spake that word they came up through the shallow water dripping
on to the bank, and they and the men who abode them on the bank shouted
together for joy of fellowship, and all tossed aloft their weapons. 
The man who had ridden behind Viglund slipped off on to the ground;
but Wolfkettle abode in his place behind Geirbald.
So the messengers passed on, and the others closed up round about
them, and all the throng went up to where Thiodolf was sitting on a
rock beneath a sole ash-tree, the face of the Kite’s Nest rising
behind him on the other side of a bight of the river.  There he
sat unhelmed with the dwarf-wrought hauberk about him, holding Throng-plough
in its sheath across his knees, while he gave word to this and that
man concerning the order of the host.
So when they were come thither, the throng opened that the messengers
might come forward; for by this time had many more drawn near to hearken
what was toward.  There they sat on their horses, the white and
the grey, and Wolfkettle stood by Geirbald’s bridle rein, for
he had now lighted down; and a little behind him, his head towering
over the others, stood Hiarandi great and gaunt.  The ragged cloud
had drifted down south-east now and the rain fell no more, but the sun
was still pale and clouded.
Then Thiodolf looked gravely on them, and spake:
 “What do ye sons of the War-shield? what tale is
there to tell?
Is the kindred fallen tangled in the grasp of the fallow Hell?
Crows the red cock over the homesteads, have we met the foe too late?
For meseems your brows are heavy with the shadowing o’er of fate.”
But Geirbald answered:
 “Still cold with dew in the morning the Shielding
Roof-ridge stands,
Nor yet hath grey Hell bounden the Shielding warriors’ hands;
But lo, the swords, O War-duke, how thick in the wind they shake,
Because we bear the message that the battle-road ye take,
Nor tarry for the thunder or the coming on of rain,
Or the windy cloudy night-tide, lest your battle be but vain.
And this is the word that Otter yestre’en hath set in my mouth;
Seek thou the trail of the Aliens of the Cities of the South,
And thou shalt find it leading o’er the heaths to the beechen-wood,
And thence to the stony places where the foxes find their food;
And thence to the tangled thicket where the folkway cleaves it through,
To the eastern edge of Mid-mark where the Bearings deal and do.”
Then said Thiodolf in a cold voice, “What then hath befallen
Otter?”
Said Geirbald:
 “When last I looked upon Otter, all armed he rode
the plain,
With his whole host clattering round him like the rush of the summer
rain;
To the right or the left they looked not but they rode through the dusk
and the dark
Beholding nought before them but the dream of the foes in the Mark.
So he went; but his word fled from him and on my horse it rode,
And again it saith, O War-duke seek thou the Bear’s abode,
And tarry never a moment for ought that seems of worth,
For there shall ye find the sword-edge and the flame of the foes of
the earth.
“Tarry not, Thiodolf, nor turn aback though a new foe followeth
on thine heels.  No need to question me more; I have no more to
tell, save that a woman brought these tidings to us, whom the Hall-Sun
had sent with others to watch the ways: and some of them had seen the
Romans, who are a great host and no band stealing forth to lift the
herds.”
Now all those round about him heard his words, for he spake with
a loud voice; and they knew what the bidding of the War-duke would be;
so they loitered not, but each man went about his business of looking
to his war-gear and gathering to the appointed place of his kindred. 
And even while Geirbald had been speaking, had Hiarandi brought up the
man who bore the great horn, who when Thiodolf leapt to his feet to
find him, was close at hand.  So he bade him blow the war-blast,
and all men knew the meaning of that voice of the horn, and every man
armed him in haste, and they who had horses (and these were but the
Bearings and the Warnings), saddled them, and mounted, and from mouth
to mouth went the word that the Romans were gotten into Mid-mark, and
were burning the Bearing abodes.  So speedily was the whole host
ready for the way, the Wolfings at the head of all.  Then came
forth Thiodolf from the midst of his kindred, and they raised him upon
a great war-shield upheld by many men, and he stood thereon and spake:
 “O sons of Tyr, ye have vanquished, and sore hath
been your pain;
But he that smiteth in battle must ever smite again;
And thus with you it fareth, and the day abideth yet
When ye shall hold the Aliens as the fishes in the net.
On the Ridge ye slew a many; but there came a many more
From their strongholds by the water to their new-built garth of war,
And all these have been led by dastards o’er the way our feet
must tread
Through the eastern heaths and the beech-wood to the door of the Bearing
stead,
Now e’en yesterday I deemed it, but I durst not haste away
Ere the word was borne to Otter and ’tis he bids haste to-day;
So now by day and by night-tide it behoveth us to wend
And wind the reel of battle and weave its web to end.
Had ye deemed my eyes foreseeing, I would tell you of my sight,
How I see the folk delivered and the Aliens turned to flight,
While my own feet wend them onwards to the ancient Father’s Home.
But belike these are but the visions that to many a man shall come
When he goeth adown to the battle, and before him riseth high
The wall of valiant foemen to hide all things anigh.
But indeed I know full surely that no work that we may win
To-morrow or the next day shall quench the Markmen’s kin.
On many a day hereafter shall their warriors carry shield;
On many a day their maidens shall drive the kine afield,
On many a day their reapers bear sickle in the wheat
When the golden wind-wrought ripple stirs round the feast-hall’s
feet.
Lo, now is the day’s work easy—to live and overcome,
Or to die and yet to conquer on the threshold of the Home.”
And therewith he gat him down and went a-foot to the head of the
Wolfing band, a great shout going with him, which was mingled with the
voice of the war-horn that bade away.
So fell the whole host into due array, and they were somewhat over
three thousand warriors, all good and tried men and meet to face the
uttermost of battle in the open field; so they went their ways with
all the speed that footmen may, and in fair order; and the sky cleared
above their heads, but the distant thunder still growled about the world. 
Geirbald and Viglund joined themselves to the Wolfings and went a-foot
along with Wolfkettle; but Hiarandi went with his kindred who were second
in the array.
CHAPTER XX—OTTER AND HIS FOLK COME INTO MID-MARK
Otter and his folk rode their ways along Mirkwood-water, and made
no stay, except now and again to breathe their horses, till they came
to Battleford in the early morning; there they baited their horses,
for the grass was good in the meadow, and the water easy to come at.
So after they had rested there a short hour, and had eaten what was
easy for them to get, they crossed the ford, and wended along Mirkwood-water
between the wood and the river, but went slower than before lest they
should weary their horses; so that it was high-noon before they had
come out of the woodland way into Mid-mark; and at once as soon as the
whole plain of the Mark opened out before them, they saw what most of
them looked to see (since none doubted Hrosshild’s tale), and
that was a column of smoke rising high and straight up into the air,
for the afternoon was hot and windless.  Great wrath rose in their
hearts thereat, and many a strong man trembled for anger, though none
for fear, as Otter raised his right hand and stretched it out towards
that token of wrack and ruin; yet they made no stay, nor did they quicken
their pace much; because they knew that they should come to Bearham
before night-fall, and they would not meet the Romans way-worn and haggard;
but they rode on steadily, a terrible company of wrathful men.
They passed by the dwellings of the kindreds, though save for the
Galtings the houses on the east side of the water between the Bearings
and the wild-wood road were but small; for the thicket came somewhat
near to the water and pinched the meadows.  But the Galtings were
great hunters and trackers of the wild-wood, and they of the Geddings,
the Erings and the Withings, which were smaller Houses, lived somewhat
on the take of fish from Mirkwood-water (as did the Laxings also of
the Nether-mark), for thereabout were there goodly pools and eddies,
and sun-warmed shallows therewithal for the spawning of the trouts;
as there were eyots in the water, most of which tailed off into a gravelly
shallow at their lower ends.
Now as the riders of the Goths came over against the dwellings of
the Withings, they saw people, mostly women, driving up the beasts from
the meadow towards the garth; but upon the tofts about their dwellings
were gathered many folk, who had their eyes turned toward the token
of ravage that hung in the sky above the fair plain; but when these
beheld the riding of the host, they tossed up their arms to them and
whatever they bore in them, and the sound of their shrill cry (for they
were all women and young lads) came down the wind to the ears of the
riders.  But down by the river on a swell of the ground were some
swains and a few thralls, and among them some men armed and a-horseback;
and these, when they perceived the host coming on turned and rode to
meet them; and as they drew near they shouted as men overjoyed to meet
their kindred; and indeed the fighting-men of their own House were riding
in the host.  And the armed men were three old men, and one very
old with marvellous long white hair, and four long lads of some fifteen
winters, and four stout carles of the thralls bearing bows and bucklers,
and these rode behind the swains; so they found their own kindred and
rode amongst them.
But when they were all jingling and clashing on together, the dust
arising from the sun-dried turf, the earth shaking with the thunder
of the horse-hoofs, then the heart of the long-hoary one stirred within
him as he bethought him of the days of his youth, and to his old nostrils
came the smell of the horses and the savour of the sweat of warriors
riding close together knee to knee adown the meadow.  So he lifted
up his voice and sang:
    “Rideth lovely along
   The strong by the strong;
   Soft under his breath
   Singeth sword in the sheath,
   And shield babbleth oft
   Unto helm-crest aloft;
How soon shall their words rise mid wrath of the battle
Into wrangle unheeded of clanging and rattle,
And no man shall note then the gold on the sword
When the runes have no meaning, the mouth-cry no word,
When all mingled together, the war-sea of men
Shall toss up the steel-spray round fourscore and ten.
   “Now as maids burn the weed
   Betwixt acre and mead,
   So the Bearings’ Roof
   Burneth little aloof,
   And red gloweth the hall
   Betwixt wall and fair wall,
Where often the mead-sea we sipped in old days,
When our feet were a-weary with wending the ways;
When the love of the lovely at even was born,
And our hands felt fair hands as they fell on the horn.
There round about standeth the ring of the foe
Tossing babes on their spears like the weeds o’er the low.
   “Ride, ride then! nor spare
   The red steeds as ye fare!
   Yet if daylight shall fail,
   By the fire-light of bale
   Shall we see the bleared eyes
   Of the war-learned, the wise.
In the acre of battle the work is to win,
Let us live by the labour, sheaf-smiting therein;
And as oft o’er the sickle we sang in time past
When the crake that long mocked us fled light at the last,
So sing o’er the sword, and the sword-hardened hand
Bearing down to the reaping the wrath of the land.”
So he sang; and a great shout went up from his kindred and those
around him, and it was taken up all along the host, though many knew
not why they shouted, and the whole host quickened its pace, and went
a great trot over the smooth meadow.
So in no long while were they come over against the stead of the
Erings, and thereabouts were no beasts afield, and no women, for all
the neat were driven into the garth of the House; but all they who were
not war-fit were standing without doors looking down the Mark towards
the reek of the Bearing dwellings, and these also sent a cry of welcome
toward the host of their kindred.  But along the river-bank came
to meet the host an armed band of two old men, two youths who were their
sons, and twelve thralls who were armed with long spears; and all these
were a-horseback: so they fell in with their kindred and the host made
no stay for them, but pressed on over-running the meadow.  And
still went up that column of smoke, and thicker and blacker it grew
a-top, and ruddier amidmost.
So came they by the abode of the Geddings, and there also the neat
and sheep were close in the home-garth: but armed men were lying or
standing about the river bank, talking or singing merrily none otherwise
than though deep peace were on the land; and when they saw the faring
of the host they sprang to their feet with a shout and gat to their
horses at once: they were more than the other bands had been, for the
Geddings were a greater House; they were seven old men, and ten swains,
and ten thralls bearing long spears like to those of the Erings; and
no sooner had they fallen in with their kindred, than the men of the
host espied a greater company yet coming to meet them: and these were
of the folk of the Galtings; and amongst them were ten warriors in their
prime, because they had but of late come back from the hunting in the
wood and had been belated from the muster of the kindreds; and with
them were eight old men and fifteen lads, and eighteen thralls; and
the swains and thralls all bore bows besides the swords that they were
girt withal, and not all of them had horses, but they who had none rode
behind the others: so they joined themselves to the host, shouting aloud;
and they had with them a great horn that they blew on till they had
taken their place in the array; and whereas their kindred was with Thiodolf,
they followed along with the hinder men of the Shieldings.
So now all the host went on together, and when they had passed the
Galting abodes, there was nothing between them and Bearham, nor need
they look for any further help of men; there were no beasts afield nor
any to herd them, and the stay-at-homes were within doors dighting them
for departure into the wild-wood if need should be: but a little while
after they had passed these dwellings came into the host two swains
of about twenty winters, and a doughty maid, their sister, and they
bare no weapons save short spears and knives; they were wet and dripping
with the water, for they had just swum Mirkwood-water.  They were
of the Wolfing House, and had been shepherding a few sheep on the west
side of the water, when they saw the host faring to battle, and might
not refrain them, but swam their horses across the swift deeps to join
their kindred to live and die with them.  The tale tells that they
three fought in the battles that followed after, and were not slain
there, though they entered them unarmed, but lived long years afterwards:
of them need no more be said.
Now, when the host was but a little past the Galting dwellings men
began to see the flames mingled with the smoke of the burning, and the
smoke itself growing thinner, as though the fire had over-mastered everything
and was consuming itself with its own violence; and somewhat afterwards,
the ground rising, they could see the Bearing meadow and the foemen
thereon: yet a little further, and from the height of another swelling
of the earth they could see the burning houses themselves and the array
of the Romans; so there they stayed and breathed their horses a while. 
And they beheld how of the Romans a great company was gathered together
in close array betwixt the ford and the Bearing Hall, but nigher unto
the ford, and these were a short mile from them; but others they saw
streaming out from the burning dwellings, as if their work were done
there, and they could not see that they had any captives with them. 
Other Romans there were, and amongst them men in the attire of the Goths,
busied about the river banks, as though they were going to try the ford.
But a little while abode Otter in that place, and then waved his
arm and rode on and all the host followed; and as they drew nigher,
Otter, who was wise in war, beheld the Romans and deemed them a great
host, and the very kernel and main body of them many more than all his
company; and moreover they were duly and well arrayed as men waiting
a foe; so he knew that he must be wary or he would lose himself and
all his men.
So he stayed his company when they were about two furlongs from them,
and the main body of the foe stirred not, but horsemen and slingers
came forth from its sides and made on toward the Goths, and in three
or four minutes were within bowshot of them.  Then the bowmen of
the Goths slipped down from their horses and bent their bows and nocked
their arrows and let fly, and slew and hurt many of the horsemen, who
endured their shot but for a minute or two and then turned rein and
rode back slowly to their folk, and the slingers came not on very eagerly
whereas they were dealing with men a-horseback, and the bowmen of the
Goths also held them still.
Now turned Otter to his folk and made them a sign, which they knew
well, that they should get down from their horses; and when they were
afoot the leaders of tens and hundreds arrayed them, into the wedge-array,
with the bowmen on either flank: and Otter smiled as he beheld this
adoing and that the Romans meddled not with them, belike because they
looked to have them good cheap, since they were but a few wild men.
But when they were all arrayed he sat still on his horse and spake
to them short and sharply, saying:
“Men of the Goths, will ye mount your horses again and ride
into the wood and let it cover you, or will ye fight these Romans?” 
They answered him with a great shout and the clashing of their weapons
on their shields.  “That is well,” quoth Otter, “since
we have come so far; for I perceive that the foe will come to meet us,
so that we must either abide their shock or turn our backs.  Yet
must we fight wisely or we are undone, and Thiodolf in risk of undoing;
this have we to do if we may, to thrust in between them and the ford,
and if we may do that, there let us fight it out, till we fall one over
another.  But if we may not do it, then will we not throw our lives
away but do the foemen what hurt we may without mingling ourselves amongst
them, and so abide the coming of Thiodolf; for if we get not betwixt
them and the ford we may in no case hinder them from crossing. 
And all this I tell you that ye may follow me wisely, and refrain your
wrath that ye may live yet to give it the rein when the time comes.”
So he spake and got down from his horse and drew his sword and went
to the head of the wedge-array and began slowly to lead forth; but the
thralls and swains had heed of the horses, and they drew aback with
them towards the wood which was but a little way from them.
But for Otter he led his men down towards the ford, and when the
Romans saw that, their main body began to move forward, faring slant-wise,
as a crab, down toward the ford; then Otter hastened somewhat, as he
well might, since his men were well learned in war and did not break
their array; but now by this time were those burners of the Romans come
up with the main battle, and the Roman captain sent them at once against
the Goths, and they advanced boldly enough, a great cloud of men in
loose array who fell to with arrows and slings on the wedge-array and
slew and hurt many: yet did not Otter stay his folk; but it was ill
going for them, for their unshielded sides were turned to the Romans,
nor durst Otter scatter his bowmen out from the wedge-array, lest the
Romans, who were more than they, should enter in amongst them. 
Ever he gazed earnestly on the main battle of the Romans, and what they
were doing, and presently it became clear to him that they would outgo
him and come to the ford, and then he wotted well that they would set
on him just when their light-armed were on his flank and his rearward,
and then it would go hard but they would break their array and all would
be lost: therefore he slacked his pace and went very slowly and the
Romans went none the slower for that; but their light-armed grew bolder
and drew more together as they came nigher to the Goths, as though they
would give them an onset; but just at that nick of time Otter passed
the word down the ranks, and, waving his sword, turned sharply to the
right and fell with all the wedge-array on the clustering throng of
the light-armed, and his bowmen spread out now from the right flank
of the wedge-array, and shot sharp and swift and the bowmen on the left
flank ran forward swiftly till they had cleared the wedge-array and
were on the flank of the light-armed Romans; and they, what between
the onset of the swordsmen and spearmen of the Goths, and their sharp
arrows, knew not which way to turn, and a great slaughter befell amongst
them, and they of them were the happiest who might save themselves by
their feet.
Now after this storm, and after these men had been thrust away, Otter
stayed not, but swept round about the field toward the horses; and indeed
he looked to it that the main-battle of the Romans should follow him,
but they did not, but stayed still to receive the fleers of their light-armed. 
And this indeed was the goodhap of the Goths; for they were somewhat
disordered by their chase of the light-armed, and they smote and spared
not, their hearts being full of bitter wrath, as might well be; for
even as they turned on the Romans, they beheld the great roof of the
Bearings fall in over the burned hall, and a great shower of sparks
burst up from its fall, and there were the ragged gables left standing,
licked by little tongues of flame which could not take hold of them
because of the clay which filled the spaces between the great timbers
and was daubed over them.  And they saw that all the other houses
were either alight or smouldering, down to the smallest cot of a thrall,
and even the barns and booths both great and little.
Therefore, whereas the Markmen were far fewer in all than the Roman
main-battle, and whereas this same host was in very good array, no doubt
there was that the Markmen would have been grievously handled had the
Romans fallen on; but the Roman Captain would not have it so: for though
he was a bold man, yet was his boldness that of the wolf, that falleth
on when he is hungry and skulketh when he is full.  He was both
young and very rich, and a mighty man among his townsmen, and well had
he learned that ginger is hot in the mouth, and though he had come forth
to the war for the increasing of his fame, he had no will to die among
the Markmen, either for the sake of the city of Rome, or of any folk
whatsoever, but was liefer to live for his own sake.  Therefore
was he come out to vanquish easily, that by his fame won he might win
more riches and dominion in Rome; and he was well content also to have
for his own whatever was choice amongst the plunder of these wild-men
(as he deemed them), if it were but a fair woman or two.  So this
man thought, It is my business to cross the ford and come to Wolfstead,
and there take the treasure of the tribe, and have a stronghold there,
whence we may slay so many of these beasts with little loss to us that
we may march away easily and with our hands full, even if Maenius with
his men come not to our aid, as full surely he will: therefore as to
these angry men, who be not without might and conduct in battle, let
us remember the old saw that saith ‘a bridge of gold to a fleeing
foe,’ and let them depart with no more hurt of Romans, and seek
us afterwards when we are fenced into their stead, which shall then
be our stronghold: even so spake he to his Captains about him.
For it must be told that he had no tidings of the overthrow of the
Romans on the Ridge; nor did he know surely how many fighting-men the
Markmen might muster, except by the report of those dastards of the
Goths; and though he had taken those two women in the wastes, yet had
he got no word from them, for they did as the Hall-Sun bade them, when
they knew that they would be questioned with torments, and smiting themselves
each with a little sharp knife, so went their ways to the Gods.
Thus then the Roman Captain let the Markmen go their ways, and turned
toward the ford, and the Markmen went slowly now toward their horses. 
Howbeit there were many of them who murmured against Otter, saying that
it was ill done to have come so far and ridden so hard, and then to
have done so little, and that were to-morrow come, they would not be
led away so easily: but now they said it was ill; for the Romans would
cross the water, and make their ways to Wolfstead, none hindering them,
and would burn the dwellings and slay the old men and thralls, and have
away the women and children and the Hall-Sun the treasure of the Markmen. 
In sooth, they knew not that a band of the Roman light-armed had already
crossed the water, and had fallen upon the dwellings of the Wolfings;
but that the old men and younglings and thralls of the House had come
upon them as they were entangled amidst the tofts and the garths, and
had overcome them and slain many.
Thus went Otter and his men to their horses when it was now drawing
toward sunset (for all this was some while adoing), and betook them
to a rising ground not far from the wood-side, and there made what sort
of a garth they might, with their horses and the limbs of trees and
long-shafted spears; and they set a watch and abode in the garth right
warily, and lighted no fires when night fell, but ate what meat they
had with them, which was but little, and so sleeping and watching abode
the morning.  But the main body of the Romans did not cross the
ford that night, for they feared lest they might go astray therein,
for it was an ill ford to those that knew not the water: so they abode
on the bank nigh to the water’s edge, with the mind to cross as
soon as it was fairly daylight.
Now Otter had lost of his men some hundred and twenty slain or grievously
hurt, and they had away with them the hurt men and the bodies of the
slain.  The tale tells not how many of the Romans were slain, but
a many of their light-armed had fallen, since the Markmen had turned
so hastily upon them, and they had with them many of the best bowmen
of the Mark.
CHAPTER XXI—THEY BICKER ABOUT THE FORD
In the grey of the morning was Otter afoot with the watchers, and
presently he got on his horse and peered over the plain, but the mist
yet hung low on it, so that he might see nought for a while; but at
last he seemed to note something coming toward the host from the upper
water above the ford, so he rode forward to meet it, and lo, it was
a lad of fifteen winters, naked save his breeches, and wet from the
river; and Otter drew rein, and the lad said to him: “Art thou
the War-duke?”  “Yea,” said Otter.
Said the lad, “I am Ali, the son of Grey, and the Hall-Sun
hath sent me to thee with this word: ‘Are ye coming?  Is
Thiodolf at hand?  For I have seen the Roof-ridge red in the sunlight
as if it were painted with cinnabar.’”
Said Otter, “Art thou going back to Wolfstead, son?”
“Yea, at once, my father,” said Ali.
“Then tell her,” said Otter, “that Thiodolf is
at hand, and when he cometh we shall both together fall upon the Romans
either in crossing the ford or in the Wolfing meadow; but tell her also
that I am not strong enough to hinder the Romans from crossing.”
“Father,” said Ali, “the Hall-Sun saith: Thou art
wise in war; now tell us, shall we hold the Hall against the Romans
that ye may find us there?  For we have discomfited their vanguard
already, and we have folk who can fight; but belike the main battle
of the Romans shall get the upper hand of us ere ye come to our helping:
belike it were better to leave the hall, and let the wood cover us.”
“Now is this well asked,” said Otter; “get thee
back, my son, and bid the Hall-Sun trust not to warding of the Hall,
for the Romans are a mighty host: and this day, even when Thiodolf cometh
hither, shall be hard for the Goth-folk: let her hasten lest these thieves
come upon her hastily; let her take the Hall-Sun her namesake, and the
old men and children and the women, and let those fighting folk she
hath be a guard to all this in the wood.  And hearken moreover;
it will, maybe, be six hours ere Thiodolf cometh; tell her I will cast
the dice for life or death, and stir up these Romans now at once, that
they may have other things to think of than burning old men and women
and children in their dwellings; thus may she reach the wood unhindered. 
Hast thou all this in thine head?  Then go thy ways.”
But the lad lingered, and he reddened and looked on the ground and
then he said: “My father, I swam the deeps, and when I reached
this bank, I crept along by the mist and the reeds toward where the
Romans are, and I came near to them, and noted what they were doing;
and I tell thee that they are already stirring to take the water at
the ford.  Now then do what thou wilt.”
Therewith he turned about, and went his way at once, running like
a colt which has never felt halter or bit.
But Otter rode back hastily and roused certain men in whom he trusted,
and bid them rouse the captains and all the host and bid men get to
horse speedily and with as little noise as might be.  So did they,
and there was little delay, for men were sleeping with one eye open,
as folk say, and many were already astir.  So in a little while
they were all in the saddle, and the mist yet stretched low over the
meadow; for the morning was cool and without wind.  Then Otter
bade the word be carried down the ranks that they should ride as quietly
as may be and fare through the mist to do the Romans some hurt, but
in nowise to get entangled in their ranks, and all men to heed well
the signal of turning and drawing aback; and therewith they rode off
down the meadow led by men who could have led them through the dark
night.
But for the Romans, they were indeed getting ready to cross the ford
when the mist should have risen; and on the bank it was thinning already
and melting away; for a little air of wind was beginning to breathe
from the north-east and the sunrise, which was just at hand; and the
bank, moreover, was stonier and higher than the meadow’s face,
which fell away from it as a shallow dish from its rim: thereon yet
lay the mist like a white wall.
So the Romans and their friends the dastards of the Goths had well
nigh got all ready, and had driven stakes into the water from bank to
bank to mark out the safe ford, and some of their light-armed and most
of their Goths were by now in the water or up on the Wolfing meadow
with the more part of their baggage and wains; and the rest of the host
was drawn up in good order, band by band, waiting the word to take the
water, and the captain was standing nigh to the river bank beside their
God the chief banner of the Host.
Of a sudden one of the dastards of the Goths who was close to the
Captain cried out that he heard horse coming; but because he spake in
the Gothic tongue, few heeded; but even therewith an old leader of a
hundred cried out the same tidings in the Roman tongue, and all men
fell to handling their weapons; but before they could face duly toward
the meadow, came rushing from out of the mist a storm of shafts that
smote many men, and therewithal burst forth the sound of the Markmen’s
war-horn, like the roaring of a hundred bulls mingled with the thunder
of horses at the gallop; and then dark over the wall of mist showed
the crests of the riders of the Mark, though scarce were their horses
seen till their whole war-rank came dark and glittering into the space
of the rising-ground where the mist was but a haze now, and now at last
smitten athwart by the low sun just arisen.
Therewith came another storm of shafts, wherein javelins and spears
cast by the hand were mingled with the arrows: but the Roman ranks had
faced the meadow and the storm which it yielded, swiftly and steadily,
and they stood fast and threw their spears, albeit not with such good
aim as might have been, because of their haste, so that few were slain
by them.  And the Roman Captain still loth to fight with the Goths
in earnest for no reward, and still more and more believing that this
was the only band of them that he had to look to, bade those who were
nighest the ford not to tarry for the onset of a few wild riders, but
to go their ways into the water; else by a sudden onrush might the Romans
have entangled Otter’s band in their ranks, and so destroyed all. 
As it was the horsemen fell not on the Roman ranks full in face, but
passing like a storm athwart the ranks to the right, fell on there where
they were in thinnest array (for they were gathered to the ford as aforesaid),
and slew some and drave some into the deeps and troubled the whole Roman
host.
So now the Roman Captain was forced to take new order, and gather
all his men together, and array his men for a hard fight; and by now
the mist was rolling off from the face of the whole meadow and the sun
was bright and hot.  His men serried their ranks, and the front
rank cast their spears, and slew both men and horses of the Goths as
those rode along their front casting their javelins, and shooting here
and there from behind their horses if occasion served, or making a shift
to send an arrow even as they sat a-horseback; then the second rank
of the Romans would take the place of the first, and cast in their turn,
and they who had taken the water turned back and took their place behind
the others, and many of the light-armed came with them, and all the
mass of them flowed forward together, looking as if it might never be
broken.  But Otter would not abide the shock, since he had lost
men and horses, and had no mind to be caught in the sweep of their net;
so he made the sign, and his Company drew off to right and left, yet
keeping within bowshot, so that the bowmen still loosed at the Romans.
But they for their part might not follow afoot men on untired horses,
and their own horse was on the west side with the baggage, and had it
been there would have been but of little avail, as the Roman Captain
knew.  So they stood awhile making grim countenance, and then slowly
drew back to the ford under cover of their light-armed who shot at the
Goths as they rode forward, but abode not their shock.
But Otter and his folk followed after the Romans again, and again
did them some hurt, and at last drew so nigh, that once more the Romans
stormed forth, and once more smote a stroke in the air; nor even so
would the Markmen cease to meddle with them, though never would Otter
suffer his men to be mingled with them.  At the last the Romans,
seeing that Otter would not walk into the open trap, and growing weary
of this bickering, began to take the water little by little, while a
strong Company kept face to the Markmen; and now Otter saw that they
would not be hindered any longer, and he had lost many men, and even
now feared lest he should be caught in the trap, and so lose all. 
And on the other hand it was high noon by now, so that he had given
respite to the stay-at-homes of the Wolfings, so that they might get
them into the wood.  So he drew out of bowshot and bade his men
breathe their horses and rest themselves and eat something; and they
did so gladly, since they saw that they might not fall upon the Romans
to live and die for it until Thiodolf was come, or until they knew that
he was not coming.  But the Romans crossed the ford in good earnest
and were soon all gathered together on the western bank making them
ready for the march to Wolfstead.  And it must be told that the
Roman Captain was the more deliberate about this because after the overthrow
of his light-armed there the morning before, he thought that the Roof
was held by warriors of the kindreds, and not by a few old men, and
women, and lads.  Therefore he had no fear of their escaping him. 
Moreover it was this imagination of his, to wit that a strong band of
warriors was holding Wolf-stead, that made him deem there were no more
worth thinking about of the warriors of the Mark save Otter’s
Company and the men in the Hall of the Wolfings.
CHAPTER XXII—OTTER FALLS ON AGAINST HIS WILL
It was with the same imagination working in him belike that the Roman
Captain set none to guard the ford on the westward side of Mirkwood-water. 
The Romans tarried there but a little hour, and then went their ways;
but Otter sent a man on a swift horse to watch them, and when they were
clean gone for half an hour, he bade his folk to horse, and they departed,
all save a handful of the swains and elders, who were left to tell the
tidings to Thiodolf when he should come into Mid-mark.
So Otter and his folk crossed the ford, and drew up in good order
on the westward bank, and it was then somewhat more than three hours
after noon.  He had been there but a little while before he noted
a stir in the Bearing meadow, and lo, it was the first of Thiodolf’s
folk, who had gotten out of the wood and had fallen in with the men
whom he had left behind.  And these first were the riders of the
Bearings, and the Wormings, (for they had out-gone the others who were
afoot).  It may well be thought how fearful was their anger when
they set eyes on the smouldering ashes of the dwellings; nor even when
those folk of Otter had told them all they had to tell could some of
them refrain them from riding off to the burnt houses to seek for the
bodies of their kindred.  But when they came there, and amidst
the ashes could find no bones, their hearts were lightened, and yet
so mad wroth they were, that some could scarce sit their horses, and
great tears gushed from the eyes of some, and pattered down like hail-stones,
so eager were they to see the blood of the Romans.  So they rode
back to where they had left their folk talking with them of Otter; and
the Bearings were sitting grim upon their horses and somewhat scowling
on Otter’s men.  Then the foremost of those who had come
back from the houses waved his hand toward the ford, but could say nought
for a while; but the captain and chief of the Bearings, a grizzled man
very big of body, whose name was Arinbiorn, spake to that man and said;
“What aileth thee Sweinbiorn the Black?  What hast thou seen?”
He said:
 “Now red and grey is the pavement of the Bearings’
house of old:
Red yet is the floor of the dais, but the hearth all grey and cold.
I knew not the house of my fathers; I could not call to mind
The fashion of the building of that Warder of the Wind.
O wide were grown the windows, and the roof exceeding high!
For nought there was to look on ’twixt the pavement and the sky.
But the tie-beam lay on the dais, and methought its staining fair;
For rings of smoothest charcoal were round it here and there,
And the red flame flickered o’er it, and never a staining wight
Hath red earth in his coffer so clear and glittering bright,
And still the little smoke-wreaths curled o’er it pale and blue.
Yea, fair is our hall’s adorning for a feast that is strange and
new.”
Said Arinbiorn: “What sawest thou therein, O Sweinbiorn, where
sat thy grandsire at the feast?  Where were the bones of thy mother
lying?”
Said Sweinbiorn:
 “We sought the feast-hall over, and nought we found
therein
Of the bones of the ancient mothers, or the younglings of the kin.
The men are greedy, doubtless, to lose no whit of the prey,
And will try if the hoary elders may yet outlive the way
That leads to the southland cities, till at last they come to stand
With the younglings in the market to be sold in an alien land.”
Arinbiorn’s brow lightened somewhat; but ere he could speak
again an ancient thrall of the Galtings spake and said:
“True it is, O warriors of the Bearings, that we might not
see any war-thralls being led away by the Romans when they came away
from the burning dwellings; and we deem it certain that they crossed
the water before the coming of the Romans, and that they are now with
the stay-at-homes of the Wolfings in the wild-wood behind the Wolfing
dwellings, for we hear tell that the War-duke would not that the Hall-Sun
should hold the Hall against the whole Roman host.”
Then Sweinbiorn tossed up his sword into the air and caught it by
the hilts as it fell, and cried out: “On, on to the meadow, where
these thieves abide us!”  Arinbiorn spake no word, but turned
his horse and rode down to the ford, and all men followed him; and of
the Bearings there were an hundred warriors save one, and of the Wormings
eighty and seven.
So rode they over the meadow and into the ford and over it, and Otter’s
company stood on the bank to meet them, and shouted to see them; but
the others made but little noise as they crossed the water.
So when they were on the western bank Arinbiorn came among them of
Otter, and cried out: “Where then is Otter, where is the War-duke,
is he alive or dead?”
And the throng opened to him and Otter stood facing him; and Arinbiorn
spake and said: “Thou art alive and unhurt, War-duke, when many
have been hurt and slain; and methinks thy company is little minished
though the kindred of the Bearings lacketh a roof; and its elders and
women and children are gone into captivity.  What is this? 
Was it a light thing that gangrel thieves should burn and waste in Mid-mark
and depart unhurt, that ye stand here with clean blades and cold bodies?”
Said Otter: “Thou grievest for the hurt of thine House, Arinbiorn;
but this at least is good, that though ye have lost the timber of your
house ye have not lost its flesh and blood; the shell is gone, but the
kernel is saved: for thy folk are by this time in the wood with the
Wolfing stay-at-homes, and among these are many who may fight on occasion,
so they are safe as for this time: the Romans may not come at them to
hurt them.”
Said Arinbiorn: “Had ye time to learn all this, Otter, when
ye fled so fast before the Romans, that the father tarried not for the
son, nor the son for the father?”
He spoke in a loud voice so that many heard him, and some deemed
it evil; for anger and dissension between friends seemed abroad; but
some were so eager for battle, that the word of Arinbiorn seemed good
to them, and they laughed for pride and anger.
Then Otter answered meekly, for he was a wise man and a bold: “We
fled not, Arinbiorn, but as the sword fleeth, when it springeth up from
the iron helm to fall on the woollen coat.  Are we not now of more
avail to you, O men of the Bearings, than our dead corpses would have
been?”
Arinbiorn answered not, but his face waxed red, as if he were struggling
with a weight hard to lift: then said Otter:
“But when will Thiodolf and the main battle be with us?”
Arinbiorn answered calmly: “Maybe in a little hour from now,
or somewhat more.”
Said Otter: “My rede is that we abide him here, and when we
are all met and well ordered together, fall on the Romans at once: for
then shall we be more than they; whereas now we are far fewer, and moreover
we shall have to set on them in their ground of vantage.”
Arinbiorn answered nothing; but an old man of the Bearings, one Thorbiorn,
came up and spake:
“Warriors, here are we talking and taking counsel, though this
is no Hallowed Thing to bid us what we shall do, and what we shall forbear;
and to talk thus is less like warriors than old women wrangling over
the why and wherefore of a broken crock.  Let the War-duke rule
here, as is but meet and right.  Yet if I might speak and not break
the peace of the Goths, then would I say this, that it might be better
for us to fall on these Romans at once before they have cast up a dike
about them, as Fox telleth is their wont, and that even in an hour they
may do much.”
As he spake there was a murmur of assent about him, but Otter spake
sharply, for he was grieved.
“Thorbiorn, thou art old, and shouldest not be void of prudence. 
Now it had been better for thee to have been in the wood to-day to order
the women and the swains according to thine ancient wisdom than to egg
on my young warriors to fare unwarily.  Here will I abide Thiodolf.”
Then Thorbiorn reddened and was wroth; but Arinbiorn spake:
“What is this to-do?  Let the War-duke rule as is but
right: but I am now become a man of Thiodolf’s company; and he
bade me haste on before to help all I might.  Do thou as thou wilt,
Otter: for Thiodolf shall be here in an hour’s space, and if much
diking shall be done in an hour, yet little slaying, forsooth, shall
be done, and that especially if the foe is all armed and slayeth women
and children.  Yea if the Bearing women be all slain, yet shall
not Tyr make us new ones out of the stones of the waste to wed with
the Galtings and the fish-eating Houses?—this is easy to be done
forsooth.  Yea, easier than fighting the Romans and overcoming
them!”
And he was very wrath, and turned away; and again there was a murmur
and a hum about him.  But while these had been speaking aloud,
Sweinbiorn had been talking softly to some of the younger men, and now
he shook his naked sword in the air and spake aloud and sang:
 “Ye tarry, Bears of Battle! ye linger, Sons of
the Worm!
Ye crouch adown, O kindreds, from the gathering of the storm!
Ye say, it shall soon pass over and we shall fare afield
And reap the wheat with the war-sword and winnow in the shield.
But where shall be the corner wherein ye then shall abide,
And where shall be the woodland where the whelps of the bears shall
hide
When ’twixt the snowy mountains and the edges of the sea
These men have swept the wild-wood and the fields where men may be
Of every living sword-blade, and every quivering spear,
And in the southland cities the yoke of slaves ye bear?
Lo ye! whoever follows I fare to sow the seed
Of the days to be hereafter and the deed that comes of deed.”
Therewith he waved his sword over his head, and made as if he would
spur onward.  But Arinbiorn thrust through the press and outwent
him and cried out:
“None goeth before Arinbiorn the Old when the battle is pitched
in the meadows of the kindred.  Come, ye sons of the Bear, ye children
of the Worm!  And come ye, whosoever hath a will to see stout men
die!”
Then on he rode nor looked behind him, and the riders of the Bearings
and the Wormings drew themselves out of the throng, and followed him,
and rode clattering over the meadow towards Wolfstead.  A few of
the others rode with them, and yet but a few.  For they remembered
the holy Folk-mote and the oath of the War-duke, and how they had chosen
Otter to be their leader.  Howbeit, man looked askance at man,
as if in shame to be left behind.
But Otter bethought him in the flash of a moment, “If these
men ride alone, they shall die and do nothing; and if we ride with them
it may be that we shall overthrow the Romans, and if we be vanquished,
it shall go hard but we shall slay many of them, so that it shall be
the easier for Thiodolf to deal with them.”
Then he spake hastily, and bade certain men abide at the ford for
a guard; then he drew his sword and rode to the front of his folk, and
cried out aloud to them:
“Now at last has come the time to die, and let them of the
Markmen who live hereafter lay us in howe.  Set on, Sons of Tyr,
and give not your lives away, but let them be dearly earned of our foemen.”
Then all shouted loudly and gladly; nor were they otherwise than
exceeding glad; for now had they forgotten all other joys of life save
the joy of fighting for the kindred and the days to be.
So Otter led them forth, and when he heard the whole company clattering
and thundering on the earth behind him and felt their might enter into
him, his brow cleared, and the anxious lines in the face of the old
man smoothed themselves out, and as he rode along the soul so stirred
within him that he sang out aloud:
 “Time was when hot was the summer and I was young
on the earth,
And I grudged me every moment that lacked its share of mirth.
I woke in the morn and was merry and all the world methought
For me and my heart’s deliverance that hour was newly wrought.
I have passed through the halls of manhood, I have reached the doors
of eld,
And I have been glad and sorry, but ever have upheld
My heart against all trouble that none might call me sad,
But ne’er came such remembrance of how my heart was glad
In the afternoon of summer ’neath the still unwearied sun
Of the days when I was little and all deeds were hopes to be won,
As now at last it cometh when e’en in such-like tide,
For the freeing of my trouble o’er the fathers’ field I
ride.”
Many men perceived that he sang, and saw that he was merry, howbeit
few heard his very words, and yet all were glad of him.
Fast they rode, being wishful to catch up with the Bearings and the
Wormings, and soon they came anigh them, and they, hearing the thunder
of the horse-hoofs, looked and saw that it was the company of Otter,
and so slacked their speed till they were all joined together with joyous
shouting and laughter.  So then they ordered the ranks anew and
so set forward in great joy without haste or turmoil toward Wolfstead
and the Romans.  For now the bitterness of their fury and the sourness
of their abiding wrath were turned into the mere joy of battle; even
as the clear red and sweet wine comes of the ugly ferment and rough
trouble of the must.
CHAPTER XXIII—THIODOLF MEETETH THE ROMANS IN THE WOLFING MEADOW
It was scarce an hour after this that the footmen of Thiodolf came
out of the thicket road on to the meadow of the Bearings; there saw
they men gathered on a rising ground, and they came up to them and saw
how some of them were looking with troubled faces towards the ford and
what lay beyond it, and some toward the wood and the coming of Thiodolf. 
But these were they whom Otter had bidden abide Thiodolf there, and
he had sent two messengers to them for Thiodolf’s behoof that
he might have due tidings so soon as he came out of the thicket: the
first told how Otter had been compelled in a manner to fall on the Romans
along with the riders of the Bearings and the Wormings, and the second
who had but just then come, told how the Markmen had been worsted by
the Romans, and had given back from the Wolfing dwellings, and were
making a stand against the foemen in the meadow betwixt the ford and
Wolfstead.
Now when Thiodolf heard of these tidings he stayed not to ask long
questions, but led the whole host straightway down to the ford, lest
the remnant of Otter’s men should be driven down there, and the
Romans should hold the western bank against him.
At the ford there was none to withstand them, nor indeed any man
at all; for the men whom Otter had set there, when they heard that the
battle had gone against their kindred, had ridden their ways to join
them.  So Thiodolf crossed over the ford, he and his in good order
all afoot, he like to the others; but for him he was clad in the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk, but was unhelmeted and bare no shield.  Throng-plough
was naked in his hand as he came up all dripping on to the bank and
stood in the meadow of the Wolfings; his face was stern and set as he
gazed straight onward to the place of the fray, but he did not look
as joyous as his wont was in going down to the battle.
Now they had gone but a short way from the ford before the noise
of the fight and the blowing of horns came down the wind to them, but
it was a little way further before they saw the fray with their eyes;
because the ground fell away from the river somewhat at first, and then
rose and fell again before it went up in one slope toward the Wolfing
dwellings.
But when they were come to the top of the next swelling of the ground,
they beheld from thence what they had to deal with; for there round
about a ground of vantage was the field black with the Roman host, and
in the midst of it was a tangle of struggling men and tossing spears,
and glittering swords.
So when they beheld the battle of their kindred they gave a great
shout and hastened onward the faster; and they were ordered into the
wedge-array and Thiodolf led them, as meet it was.  And now even
as they who were on the outward edge of the array and could see what
was toward were looking on the battle with eager eyes, there came an
answering shout down the wind, which they knew for the voice of the
Goths amid the foemen, and then they saw how the ring of the Romans
shook and parted, and their array fell back, and lo the company of the
Markmen standing stoutly together, though sorely minished; and sure
it was that they had not fled or been scattered, but were ready to fall
one over another in one band, for there were no men straggling towards
the ford, though many masterless horses ran here and there about the
meadow.  Now, therefore, none doubted but that they would deliver
their friends from the Romans, and overthrow the foemen.
But now befel a wonder, a strange thing to tell of.  The Romans
soon perceived what was adoing, whereupon the half of them turned about
to face the new comers, while the other half still withstood the company
of Otter: the wedge-array of Thiodolf drew nearer and nearer till it
was hard on the place where it should spread itself out to storm down
on the foe, and the Goths beset by the Romans made them ready to fall
on from their side.  There was Thiodolf leading his host, and all
men looking for the token and sign to fall on; but even as he lifted
up Throng-plough to give that sign, a cloud came over his eyes and he
saw nought of all that was before him, and he staggered back as one
who hath gotten a deadly stroke, and so fell swooning to the earth,
though none had smitten him.  Then stayed was the wedge-array even
at the very point of onset, and the hearts of the Goths sank, for they
deemed that their leader was slain, and those who were nearest to him
raised him up and bore him hastily aback out of the battle; and the
Romans also had beheld him fall, and they also deemed him dead or sore
hurt, and shouted for joy and loitered not, but stormed forth on the
wedge-array like valiant men; for it must be told that they, who erst
out-numbered the company of Otter, were now much out-numbered, but they
deemed it might well be that they could dismay the Goths since they
had been stayed by the fall of their leader; and Otter’s company
were wearied with sore fighting against a great host.  Nevertheless
these last, who had not seen the fall of Thiodolf (for the Romans were
thick between him and them) fell on with such exceeding fury that they
drove the Romans who faced them back on those who had set on the wedge-array,
which also stood fast undismayed; for he who stood next to Thiodolf,
a man big of body, and stout of heart, hight Thorolf, hove up a great
axe and cried out aloud:
“Here is the next man to Thiodolf! here is one who will not
fall till some one thrusts him over, here is Thorolf of the Wolfings! 
Stand fast and shield you, and smite, though Thiodolf be gone untimely
to the Gods!”
So none gave back a foot, and fierce was the fight about the wedge-array;
and the men of Otter—but there was no Otter there, and many another
man was gone, and Arinbiorn the Old led them—these stormed on
so fiercely that they cleft their way through all and joined themselves
to their kindred, and the battle was renewed in the Wolfing meadow. 
But the Romans had this gain, that Thiodolf’s men had let go their
occasion for falling on the Romans with their line spread out so that
every man might use his weapons; yet were the Goths strong both in valiancy
and in numbers, nor might the Romans break into their array, and as
aforesaid the Romans were the fewer, for it was less than half of their
host that had pursued the Goths when they had been thrust back from
their fierce onset: nor did more than the half seem needed, so many
of them had fallen along with Otter the War-duke and Sweinbiorn of the
Bearings, that they seemed to the Romans but a feeble band easy to overcome.
So fought they in the Wolfing meadow in the fifth hour after high-noon,
and neither yielded to the other: but while these things were a-doing,
men laid Thiodolf adown aloof from the battle under a doddered oak half
a furlong from where the fight was a-doing, round whose bole clung flocks
of wool from the sheep that drew around it in the hot summer-tide and
rubbed themselves against it, and the ground was trodden bare of grass
round the bole, and close to the trunk was worn into a kind of trench. 
There then they laid Thiodolf, and they wondered that no blood came
from him, and that there was no sign of a shot-weapon in his body.
But as for him, when he fell, all memory of the battle and what had
gone before it faded from his mind, and he passed into sweet and pleasant
dreams wherein he was a lad again in the days before he had fought with
the three Hun-Kings in the hazelled field.  And in these dreams
he was doing after the manner of young lads, sporting in the meadows,
backing unbroken colts, swimming in the river, going a-hunting with
the elder carles.  And especially he deemed that he was in the
company of one old man who had taught him both wood-craft and the handling
of weapons: and fair at first was his dream of his doings with this
man; he was with him in the forge smithying a sword-blade, and hammering
into its steel the thin golden wires; and fishing with an angle along
with him by the eddies of Mirkwood-water; and sitting with him in an
ingle of the Hall, the old man telling a tale of an ancient warrior
of the Wolfings hight Thiodolf also: then suddenly and without going
there, they were in a little clearing of the woods resting after hunting,
a roe-deer with an arrow in her lying at their feet, and the old man
was talking, and telling Thiodolf in what wise it was best to go about
to get the wind of a hart; but all the while there was going on the
thunder of a great gale of wind through the woodland boughs, even as
the drone of a bag-pipe cleaves to the tune.  Presently Thiodolf
arose and would go about his hunting again, and stooped to take up his
spear, and even therewith the old man’s speech stayed, and Thiodolf
looked up, and lo, his face was white like stone, and he touched him,
and he was hard as flint, and like the image of an ancient god as to
his face and hands, though the wind stirred his hair and his raiment,
as they did before.  Therewith a great pang smote Thiodolf in his
dream, and he felt as if he also were stiffening into stone, and he
strove and struggled, and lo, the wild-wood was gone, and a white light
empty of all vision was before him, and as he moved his head this became
the Wolfing meadow, as he had known it so long, and thereat a soft pleasure
and joy took hold of him, till again he looked, and saw there no longer
the kine and sheep, and the herd-women tending them, but the rush and
turmoil of that fierce battle, the confused thundering noise of which
was going up to the heavens; for indeed he was now fully awake again.
So he stood up and looked about; and around him was a ring of the
sorrowful faces of the warriors, who had deemed that he was hurt deadly,
though no hurt could they find upon him.  But the Dwarf-wrought
Hauberk lay upon the ground beside him; for they had taken it off him
to look for his hurts.
So he looked into their faces and said: “What aileth you, ye
men?  I am alive and unhurt; what hath betided?”
And one said: “Art thou verily alive, or a man come back from
the dead?  We saw thee fall as thou wentest leading us against
the foe as if thou hadst been smitten by a thunder-bolt, and we deemed
thee dead or grievously hurt.  Now the carles are fighting stoutly,
and all is well since thou livest yet.”
So he said: “Give me the point and edges that I know, that
I may smite myself therewith and not the foemen; for I have feared and
blenched from the battle.”
Said an old warrior: “If that be so, Thiodolf, wilt thou blench
twice?  Is not once enough?  Now let us go back to the hard
handplay, and if thou wilt, smite thyself after the battle, when we
have once more had a man’s help of thee.”
Therewith he held out Throng-plough to him by the point, and Thiodolf
took hold of the hilts and handled it and said: “Let us hasten,
while the Gods will have it so, and while they are still suffering me
to strike a stroke for the kindred.”
And therewith he brandished Throng-plough, and went forth toward
the battle, and the heart grew hot within him, and the joy of waking
life came back to him, the joy which but erewhile he had given to a
mere dream.
But the old man who had rebuked him stooped down and lifted the Hauberk
from the ground, and cried out after him, “O Thiodolf, and wilt
thou go naked into so strong a fight? and thou with this so goodly sword-rampart?”
Thiodolf stayed a moment, and even therewith they looked, and lo!
the Romans giving back before the Goths and the Goths following up the
chase, but slowly and steadily.  Then Thiodolf heeded nothing save
the battle, but ran forward hastily, and those warriors followed him,
the old man last of all holding the Hauberk in his hand, and muttering:
 “So fares hot blood to the glooming and the world
beneath the grass;
And the fruit of the Wolfings’ orchard in a flash from the world
must pass.
Men say that the tree shall blossom in the garden of the folk,
And the new twig thrust him forward from the place where the old one
broke,
And all be well as aforetime: but old and old I grow,
And I doubt me if such another the folk to come shall know.”
And he still hurried forward as fast as his old body might go, so
that he might wrap the safeguard of the Hauberk round Thiodolf’s
body.
CHAPTER XXIV—THE GOTHS ARE OVERTHROWN BY THE ROMANS
Now rose up a mighty shout when Thiodolf came back to the battle
of the kindreds, for many thought he had been slain; and they gathered
round about him, and cried out to him joyously out of their hearts of
good-fellowship, and the old man who had rebuked Thiodolf, and who was
Jorund of the Wolfings, came up to him and reached out to him the Hauberk,
and he did it on scarce heeding; for all his heart and soul was turned
toward the battle of the Romans and what they were a-doing; and he saw
that they were falling back in good order, as men out-numbered, but
undismayed.  So he gathered all his men together and ordered them
afresh; for they were somewhat disarrayed with the fray and the chase:
and now he no longer ordered them in the wedge array, but in a line
here three deep, here five deep, or more, for the foes were hard at
hand, and outnumbered, and so far overcome, that he and all men deemed
it a little matter to give these their last overthrow, and then onward
to Wolf-stead to storm on what was left there and purge the house of
the foemen.  Howbeit Thiodolf bethought him that succour might
come to the Romans from their main-battle, as they needed not many men
there, since there was nought to fear behind them: but the thought was
dim within him, for once more since he had gotten the Hauberk on him
the earth was wavering and dream-like: he looked about him, and nowise
was he as in past days of battle when he saw nought but the foe before
him, and hoped for nothing save the victory.  But now indeed the
Wood-Sun seemed to him to be beside him, and not against his will, as
one besetting and hindering him, but as though his own longing had drawn
her thither and would not let her depart; and whiles it seemed to him
that her beauty was clearer to be seen than the bodies of the warriors
round about him.  For the rest he seemed to be in a dream indeed,
and, as men do in dreams, to be for ever striving to be doing something
of more moment than anything which he did, but which he must ever leave
undone.  And as the dream gathered and thickened about him the
foe before him changed to his eyes, and seemed no longer the stern brown-skinned
smooth-faced men under their crested iron helms with their iron-covered
shields before them, but rather, big-headed men, small of stature, long-bearded,
swart, crooked of body, exceeding foul of aspect.  And he looked
on and did nothing for a while, and his head whirled as though he had
been grievously smitten.
Thus tarried the kindreds awhile, and they were bewildered and their
hearts fell because Thiodolf did not fly on the foemen like a falcon
on the quarry, as his wont was.  But as for the Romans, they had
now stayed, and were facing their foes again, and that on a vantage-ground,
since the field sloped up toward the Wolfing dwelling; and they gathered
heart when they saw that the Goths tarried and forbore them.  But
the sun was sinking, and the evening was hard at hand.
So at last Thiodolf led forward with Throng-plough held aloft in
his right hand; but his left hand he held out by his side, as though
he were leading someone along.  And as he went, he muttered: “When
will these accursed sons of the nether earth leave the way clear to
us, that we may be alone and take pleasure each in each amidst of the
flowers and the sun?”
Now as the two hosts drew near to one another, again came the sound
of trumpets afar off, and men knew that this would be succour coming
to the Romans from their main-battle, and the Romans thereon shouted
for joy, and the host of the kindreds might no longer forbear, but rushed
on fiercely against them; and for Thiodolf it was now come to this,
that so entangled was he in his dream that he rather went with his men
than led them.  Yet had he Throng-plough in his right hand, and
he muttered in his beard as he went, “Smite before! smite behind!
and smite on the right hand! but never on the left!”
Thus then they met, and as before, neither might the Goths sweep
the Romans away, nor the Romans break the Goths into flight; yet were
many of the kindred anxious and troubled, since they knew that aid was
coming to the Romans, and they heard the trumpets sounding nearer and
more joyous; and at last, as the men of the kindreds were growing a-wearied
with fighting, they heard those horns as it were in their very ears,
and the thunder of the tramp of footmen, and they knew that a fresh
host of men was upon them; then those they had been fighting with opened
before them, falling aside to the right and the left, and the fresh
men passing between them, fell on the Goths like the waters of a river
when a sluice-gate is opened.  They came on in very good order,
never breaking their ranks, but swift withal, smiting and pushing before
them, and so brake through the array of the Goth-folk, and drave them
this way and that way down the slopes.
Yet still fought the warriors of the kindred most valiantly, making
stand and facing the foe again and again in knots of a score or two
score, or maybe ten score; and though many a man was slain, yet scarce
any one before he had slain or hurt a Roman; and some there were, and
they the oldest, who fought as if they and the few about them were all
the host that was left to the folk, and heeded not that others were
driven back, or that the Romans gathered about them, cutting them off
from all succour and aid, but went on smiting till they were felled
with many strokes.
Howbeit the array of the Goths was broken and many were slain, and
perforce they must give back, and it seemed as if they would be driven
into the river and all be lost.
But for Thiodolf, this befell him: that at first, when those fresh
men fell on, he seemed, as it were, to wake unto himself again, and
he cried aloud the cry of the Wolf, and thrust into the thickest of
the fray, and slew many and was hurt of none, and for a moment of time
there was an empty space round about him, such fear he cast even into
the valiant hearts of the foemen.  But those who had time to see
him as they stood by him noted that he was as pale as a dead man, and
his eyes set and staring; and so of a sudden, while he stood thus threatening
the ring of doubtful foemen, the weakness took him again, Throng-plough
tumbled from his hand, and he fell to earth as one dead.
Then of those who saw him some deemed that he had been striving against
some secret hurt till he could do no more; and some that there was a
curse abroad that had fallen upon him and upon all the kindreds of the
Mark; some thought him dead and some swooning.  But, dead or alive,
the warriors would not leave their War-duke among the foemen, so they
lifted him, and gathered about him a goodly band that held its own against
all comers, and fought through the turmoil stoutly and steadily; and
others gathered to them, till they began to be something like a host
again, and the Romans might not break them into knots of desperate men
any more.
Thus they fought their way, Arinbiorn of the Bearings leading them
now, with a mind to make a stand for life or death on some vantage-ground;
and so, often turning upon the Romans, they came in array ever growing
more solid to the rising ground looking one way over the ford and the
other to the slopes where the battle had just been.  There they
faced the foe as men who may be slain, but will be driven no further;
and what bowmen they had got spread out from their flanks and shot on
the Romans, who had with them no light-armed, or slingers or bowmen,
for they had left them at Wolf-stead.  So the Romans stood a while,
and gave breathing-space to the Markmen, which indeed was the saving
of them: for if they had fallen on hotly and held to it steadily, it
is like that they would have passed over all the bodies of the Markmen:
for these had lost their leader, either slain, as some thought, or,
as others thought, banned from leadership by the Gods; and their host
was heavy-hearted; and though it is like that they would have stood
there till each had fallen over other, yet was their hope grown dim,
and the whole folk brought to a perilous and fearful pass, for if these
were slain or scattered there were no more but they, and nought between
fire and the sword and the people of the Mark.
But once again the faint-heart folly of the Roman Captain saved his
foes: for whereas he once thought that the whole power of the Markmen
lay in Otter and his company, and deemed them too little to meddle with,
so now he ran his head into the other hedge, and deemed that Thiodolf’s
company was but a part of the succour that was at hand for the Goths,
and that they were over-big for him to meddle with.
True it is also that now dark night was coming on, and the land was
unknown to the Romans, who moreover trusted not wholly to the dastards
of the Goths who were their guides and scouts: furthermore the wood
was at hand, and they knew not what it held; and with all this and above
it all, it is to be said that over them also had fallen a dread of some
doom anear; for those habitations amidst of the wild-woods were terrible
to them as they were dear to the Goths; and the Gods of their foemen
seemed to be lying in wait to fall upon them, even if they should slay
every man of the kindreds.
So now having driven back the Goths to that height over the ford,
which indeed was no stronghold, no mountain, scarce a hill even, nought
but a gentle swelling of the earth, they forebore them; and raising
up the whoop of victory drew slowly aback, picking up their own dead
and wounded, and slaying the wounded Markmen.  They had with them
also some few captives, but not many; for the fighting had been to the
death between man and man on the Wolfing Meadow.
CHAPTER XXV—THE HOST OF THE MARKMEN COMETH INTO THE WILD-WOOD
Yet though the Romans were gone, the Goth-folk were very hard bested. 
They had been overthrown, not sorely maybe if they had been in an alien
land, and free to come and go as they would; yet sorely as things were,
because the foeman was sitting in their own House, and they must needs
drag him out of it or perish: and to many the days seemed evil, and
the Gods fighting against them, and both the Wolfings and the other
kindreds bethought them of the Hall-Sun and her wisdom and longed to
hear of tidings concerning her.
But now the word ran through the host that Thiodolf was certainly
not slain.  Slowly he had come to himself, and yet was not himself,
for he sat among his men gloomy and silent, clean contrary to his wont;
for hitherto he had been a merry man, and a joyous fellow.
Amidst of the ridge whereon the Markmen now abode, there was a ring
made of the chief warriors and captains and wise men who had not been
slain or grievously hurt in the fray, and amidst them all sat Thiodolf
on the ground, his chin sunken on his breast, looking more like a captive
than the leader of a host amidst of his men; and that the more as his
scabbard was empty; for when Throng-plough had fallen from his hand,
it had been trodden under foot, and lost in the turmoil.  There
he sat, and the others in that ring of men looked sadly upon him; such
as Arinbiorn of the Bearings, and Wolfkettle and Thorolf of his own
House, and Hiarandi of the Elkings, and Geirbald the Shielding, the
messenger of the woods, and Fox who had seen the Roman Garth, and many
others.  It was night now, and men had lighted fires about the
host, for they said that the Romans knew where to find them if they
listed to seek; and about those fires were men eating and drinking what
they might come at, but amidmost of that ring was the biggest fire,
and men turned them towards it for counsel and help, for elsewhere none
said, “What do we?” for they were heavy-hearted and redeless,
since the Gods had taken the victory out of their hands just when they
seemed at point to win it.
But amidst all this there was a little stir outside that biggest
ring, and men parted, and through them came a swain amongst the chiefs,
and said, “Who will lead me to the War-duke?”
Thiodolf, who was close beside the lad, answered never a word; but
Arinbiorn said; “This man here sitting is the War-duke: speak
to him, for he may hearken to thee: but first who art thou?”
Said the lad; “My name is Ali the son of Grey, and I come with
a message from the Hall-Sun and the stay-at-homes who are in the Woodland.”
Now when he named the Hall-Sun Thiodolf started and looked up, and
turning to his left-hand said, “And what sayeth thy daughter?”
Men did not heed that he said thy daughter, but deemed that
he said my daughter, since he was wont as her would-be foster-father
to call her so.  But Ali spake:
“War-duke and ye chieftains, thus saith the Hall-Sun: ‘I
know that by this time Otter hath been slain and many another, and ye
have been overthrown and chased by the Romans, and that now there is
little counsel in you except to abide the foe where ye are and there
to die valiantly.  But now do my bidding and as I am bidden, and
then whosoever dieth or liveth, the kindreds shall vanquish that they
may live and grow greater.  Do ye thus: the Romans think no otherwise
but to find you here to-morrow or else departed across the water as
broken men, and they will fall upon you with their whole host, and then
make a war-garth after their manner at Wolf-stead and carry fire and
the sword and the chains of thralldom into every House of the Mark. 
Now therefore fetch a compass and come into the wood on the north-west
of the houses and make your way to the Thing-stead of the Mid-mark. 
For who knoweth but that to-morrow we may fall upon these thieves again? 
Of this shall ye hear more when we may speak together and take counsel
face to face; for we stay-at-homes know somewhat closely of the ways
of these Romans.  Haste then! let not the grass grow over your
feet!
“‘But to thee, Thiodolf, have I a word to say when we
meet; for I wot that as now thou canst not hearken to my word.’ 
Thus saith the Hall-Sun.”
“Wilt thou speak, War-duke?” said Arinbiorn.  But
Thiodolf shook his head.  Then said Arinbiorn; “Shall I speak
for thee?” and Thiodolf nodded yea.  Then said Arinbiorn:
“Ali son of Grey, art thou going back to her that sent thee?”
“Yea,” said the lad, “but in your company, for
ye will be coming straightway and I know all the ways closely; and there
is need for a guide through the dark night as ye will see presently.”
Then stood up Arinbiorn and said: “Chiefs and captains, go
ye speedily and array your men for departure: bid them leave all the
fires burning and come their ways as silently as maybe; for now will
we wend this same hour before moonrise into the Wild-wood and the Thing-stead
of Mid-mark; thus saith the War-duke.”
But when they were gone, and Arinbiorn and Thiodolf were left alone,
Thiodolf lifted up his head and spake slowly and painfully:
“Arinbiorn, I thank thee: and thou dost well to lead this folk:
since as for me that is somewhat that weighs me down, and I know not
whether it be life or death; therefore I may no longer be your captain,
for twice now have I blenched from the battle.  Yet command me,
and I will obey, set a sword in my hand and I will smite, till the God
snatches it out of my hand, as he did Throng-plough to-day.”
“And that is well,” said Arinbiorn, “it may be
that ye shall meet that God to-morrow, and heave up sword against him,
and either overcome him or go to thy fathers a proud and valiant man.”
So they spake, and Thiodolf stood up and seemed of better cheer. 
But presently the whole host was afoot, and they went their ways warily
with little noise, and wound little by little about the Wolfing meadow
and about the acres towards the wood at the back of the Houses; and
they met nothing by the way except an out-guard of the Romans, whom
they slew there nigh silently, and bore away their bodies, twelve in
number, lest the Romans when they sent to change the guard, should find
the slain and have an inkling of the way the Goths were gone; but now
they deemed that the Romans might think their guard fled, or perchance
that they had been carried away by the Gods of the woodland folk.
So came they into the wood, and Arinbiorn and the chiefs were for
striking the All-men’s road to the Thing-stead and so coming thither;
but the lad Ali when he heard it laughed and said:
“If ye would sleep to-night ye shall wend another way. 
For the Hall-Sun hath had us at work cumbering it against the foe with
great trees felled with limbs, branches, and all.  And indeed ye
shall find the Thing-stead fenced like a castle, and the in-gate hard
to find; yet will I bring you thither.”
So did he without delay, and presently they came anigh the Thing-stead;
and the place was fenced cunningly, so that if men would enter they
must go by a narrow way that had a fence of tree-trunks on each side
wending inward like the maze in a pleasance.  Thereby now wended
the host all afoot, since it was a holy place and no beast must set
foot therein, so that the horses were left without it: so slowly and
right quietly once more they came into the garth of the Thing-stead;
and lo, a many folk there, of the Wolfings and the Bearings and other
kindreds, who had gathered thereto; and albeit these were not warriors
in their prime, yet were there none save the young children and the
weaker of the women but had weapons of some kind; and they were well
ordered, standing or sitting in ranks like folk awaiting battle. 
There were booths of boughs and rushes set up for shelter of the feebler
women and the old men and children along the edges of the fence, for
the Hall-Sun had bidden them keep the space clear round about the Doom-ring
and the Hill-of-Speech as if for a mighty folk-mote, so that the warriors
might have room to muster there and order their array.  There were
some cooking-fires lighted about the aforesaid booths, but neither many
nor great, and they were screened with wattle from the side that lay
toward the Romans; for the Hall-Sun would not that they should hold
up lanterns for their foemen to find them by.  Little noise there
was in that stronghold, moreover, for the hearts of all who knew their
right hands from their left were set on battle and the destruction of
the foe that would destroy the kindreds.
Anigh the Speech-Hill, on its eastern side, had the bole of a slender
beech tree been set up, and at the top of it a cross-beam was nailed
on, and therefrom hung the wondrous lamp, the Hall-Sun, glimmering from
on high, and though its light was but a glimmer amongst the mighty wood,
yet was it also screened on three sides from the sight of the chance
wanderer by wings of thin plank.  But beneath her namesake as beforetime
in the Hall sat the Hall-Sun, the maiden, on a heap of faggots, and
she was wrapped in a dark blue cloak from under which gleamed the folds
of the fair golden-broidered gown she was wont to wear at folk-motes,
and her right hand rested on a naked sword that lay across her knees:
beside her sat the old man Sorli, the Wise in War, and about her were
slim lads and sturdy maidens and old carles of the thralls or freedmen
ready to bear the commands that came from her mouth; for she and Sorli
were the captains of the stay-at-homes.
Now came Thiodolf and Arinbiorn and other leaders into the ring of
men before her, and she greeted them kindly and said:
“Hail, Sons of Tyr! now that I behold you again it seemeth
to me as if all were already won: the time of waiting hath been weary,
and we have borne the burden of fear every day from morn till even,
and in the waking hour we presently remembered it.  But now ye
are come, even if this Thing-stead were lighted by the flames of the
Wolfing Roof instead of by these moonbeams; even if we had to begin
again and seek new dwellings, and another water and other meadows, yet
great should grow the kindreds of the Men who have dwelt in the Mark,
and nought should overshadow them: and though the beasts and the Romans
were dwelling in their old places, yet should these kindreds make new
clearings in the Wild-wood; and they with their deeds should cause other
waters to be famous, that as yet have known no deeds of man; and they
should compel the Earth to bear increase round about their dwelling-places
for the welfare of the kindreds.  O Sons of Tyr, friendly are your
faces, and undismayed, and the Terror of the Nations has not made you
afraid any more than would the onrush of the bisons that feed adown
the grass hills.  Happy is the eve, O children of the Goths, yet
shall to-morrow morn be happier.”
Many heard what she spake, and a murmur of joy ran through the ranks
of men: for they deemed her words to forecast victory.
And now amidst her speaking, the moon, which had arisen on Mid-mark,
when the host first entered into the wood, had overtopped the tall trees
that stood like a green wall round about the Thing-stead, and shone
down on that assembly, and flashed coldly back from the arms of the
warriors.  And the Hall-Sun cast off her dark blue cloak and stood
up in her golden-broidered raiment, which flashed back the grey light
like as it had been an icicle hanging from the roof of some hall in
the midnight of Yule, when the feast is high within, and without the
world is silent with the night of the ten-weeks’ frost.
Then she spake again: “O War-duke, thy mouth is silent; speak
to this warrior of the Bearings that he bid the host what to do; for
wise are ye both, and dear are the minutes of this night and should
not be wasted; since they bring about the salvation of the Wolfings,
and the vengeance of the Bearings, and the hope renewed of all the kindreds.”
Then Thiodolf abode a while with his head down cast; his bosom heaved,
and he set his left hand to his swordless scabbard, and his right to
his throat, as though he were sore troubled with something he might
not tell of: but at last he lifted up his head and spoke to Arinbiorn,
but slowly and painfully, as he had spoken before:
“Chief of the Bearings, go up on to the Hill of Speech, and
speak to the folk out of thy wisdom, and let them know that to-morrow
early before the sun-rising those that may, and are not bound by the
Gods against it, shall do deeds according to their might, and win rest
for themselves, and new days of deeds for the kindreds.”
Therewith he ceased, and let his head fall again, and the Hall-Sun
looked at him askance.  But Arinbiorn clomb the Speech-Hill and
said:
“Men of the kindreds, it is now a few days since we first met
the Romans and fought with them; and whiles we have had the better,
and whiles the worse in our dealings, as oft in war befalleth: for they
are men, and we no less than men.  But now look to it what ye will
do; for we may no longer endure these outlanders in our houses, and
we must either die or get our own again: and that is not merely a few
wares stored up for use, nor a few head of neat, nor certain timbers
piled up into a dwelling, but the life we have made in the land we have
made.  I show you no choice, for no choice there is.  Here
are we bare of everything in the wild-wood: for the most part our children
are crying for us at home, our wives are longing for us in our houses,
and if we come not to them in kindness, the Romans shall come to them
in grimness.  Down yonder in the plain, moreover, is our wain-burg
slowly drawing near to us, and with it is much livelihood of ours, which
is a little thing, for we may get more; but also there are our banners
of battle and the tokens of the kindred, which is a great thing. 
And between all this and us there lieth but little; nought but a band
of valiant men, and a few swords and spears, and a few wounds, and the
hope of death amidst the praise of the people; and this ye have to set
out to wend across within two or three hours.  I will not ask if
ye will do so, for I wot that even so ye will; therefore when I have
done, shout not, nor clash sword on shield, for we are no great way
off that house of ours wherein dwells the foe that would destroy us. 
Let each man rest as he may, and sleep if he may with his war-gear on
him and his weapons by his side, and when he is next awakened by the
captains and the leaders of hundreds and scores, let him not think that
it is night, but let him betake himself to his place among his kindred
and be ready to go through the wood with as little noise as may be. 
Now all is said that the War-duke would have me say, and to-morrow shall
those see him who are foremost in falling upon the foemen, for he longeth
sorely for his seat on the days of the Wolfing Hall.”
So he spake, and even as he bade them, they made no sound save a
joyous murmur; and straightway the more part of them betook themselves
to sleep as men who must busy themselves about a weighty matter; for
they were wise in the ways of war.  So sank all the host to the
ground save those who were appointed as watchers of the night, and Arinbiorn
and Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun; they three yet stood together; and Arinbiorn
said:
“Now it seems to me not so much as if we had vanquished the
foe and were safe and at rest, but rather as if we had no foemen and
never have had.  Deep peace is on me, though hitherto I have been
deemed a wrathful man, and it is to me as if the kindreds that I love
had filled the whole earth, and left no room for foemen: even so it
may really be one day.  To-night it is well, yet to-morrow it shall
be better.  What thine errand may be, Thiodolf, I scarce know;
for something hath changed in thee, and thou art become strange to us. 
But as for mine errand, I will tell it thee; it is that I am seeking
Otter of the Laxings, my friend and fellow, whose wisdom my foolishness
drave under the point and edge of the Romans, so that he is no longer
here; I am seeking him, and to-morrow I think I shall find him, for
he hath not had time to travel far, and we shall be blithe and merry
together.  And now will I sleep; for I have bidden the watchers
awaken me if any need be.  Sleep thou also, Thiodolf! and wake
up thine old self when the moon is low.”  Therewith he laid
himself down under the lee of the pile of faggots, and was presently
asleep.
CHAPTER XXVI—THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN
Now were Thiodolf and the Hall-Sun left alone together standing by
the Speech-Hill; and the moon was risen high in the heavens above the
tree-tops of the wild-wood.  Thiodolf scarce stirred, and he still
held his head bent down as one lost in thought.
Then said the Hall-Sun, speaking softly amidst the hush of the camp:
“I have said that the minutes of this night are dear, and they
are passing swiftly; and it may be that thou wilt have much to say and
to do before the host is astir with the dawning.  So come thou
with me a little way, that thou mayst hear of new tidings, and think
what were best to do amidst them.”
And without more ado she took him by the hand and led him forth,
and he went as he was led, not saying a word.  They passed out
of the camp into the wood, none hindering, and went a long way where
under the beech-leaves there was but a glimmer of the moonlight, and
presently Thiodolf’s feet went as it were of themselves; for they
had hit a path that he knew well and over-well.
So came they to that little wood-lawn where first in this tale Thiodolf
met the Wood-Sun; and the stone seat there was not empty now any more
than it was then; for thereon sat the Wood-Sun, clad once more in her
glittering raiment.  Her head was sunken down, her face hidden
by her hands; neither did she look up when she heard their feet on the
grass, for she knew who they were.
Thiodolf lingered not; for a moment it was to him as if all that
past time had never been, and its battles and hurry and hopes and fears
but mere shows, and the unspoken words of a dream.  He went straight
up to her and sat down by her side and put his arm about her shoulders,
and strove to take her hand to caress it; but she moved but little,
and it was as if she heeded him not.  And the Hall-Sun stood before
them and looked at them for a little while; and then she fell to speech;
but at the first sound of her voice, it seemed that the Wood-Sun trembled,
but still she hid her face.  Said the Hall-Sun:
 “Two griefs I see before me in mighty hearts grown
great;
And to change both these into gladness out-goes the power of fate.
Yet I, a lonely maiden, have might to vanquish one
Till it melt as the mist of the morning before the summer sun.
O Wood-Sun, thou hast borne me, and I were fain indeed
To give thee back thy gladness; but thou com’st of the Godhead’s
seed,
And herein my might avails not; because I can but show
Unto these wedded sorrows the truth that the heart should know
Ere the will hath wielded the hand; and for thee, I can tell thee nought
That thou hast not known this long while; thy will and thine hand have
wrought,
And the man that thou lovest shall live in despite of Gods and of men,
If yet thy will endureth.  But what shall it profit thee then
That after the fashion of Godhead thou hast gotten thee a thrall
To be thine and never another’s, whatso in the world may befall?
Lo! yesterday this was a man, and to-morrow it might have been
The very joy of the people, though never again it were seen;
Yet a part of all they hoped for through all the lapse of years,
To make their laughter happy and dull the sting of tears;
To quicken all remembrance of deeds that never die,
And death that maketh eager to live as the days go by.
Yea, many a deed had he done as he lay in the dark of the mound;
As the seed-wheat plotteth of spring, laid under the face of the ground
That the foot of the husbandman treadeth, that the wind of the winter
wears,
That the turbid cold flood hideth from the constant hope of the years.
This man that should leave in his death his life unto many an one
Wilt thou make him a God of the fearful who live lone under the sun?
And then shalt thou have what thou wouldedst when amidst of the hazelled
field
Thou kissed’st the mouth of the helper, and the hand of the people’s
shield,
Shalt thou have the thing that thou wouldedst when thou broughtest me
to birth,
And I, the soul of the Wolfings, began to look on earth?
Wilt thou play the God, O mother, and make a man anew,
A joyless thing and a fearful?  Then I betwixt you two,
’Twixt your longing and your sorrow will cast the sundering word,
And tell out all the story of that rampart of the sword!
I shall bid my mighty father make choice of death in life,
Or life in death victorious and the crownèd end of strife.”
Ere she had ended, the Wood-Sun let her hands fall down, and showed
her face, which for all its unpaled beauty looked wearied and anxious;
and she took Thiodolf’s hand in hers, while she looked with eyes
of love upon the Hall-Sun, and Thiodolf laid his cheek to her cheek,
and though he smiled not, yet he seemed as one who is happy.  At
last the Wood-Sun spoke and said:
 “Thou sayest sooth, O daughter: I am no God of
might,
Yet I am of their race, and I think with their thoughts and see with
their sight,
And the threat of the doom did I know of, and yet spared not to lie:
For I thought that the fate foreboded might touch and pass us by,
As the sword that heweth the war-helm and cleaveth a cantle away,
And the cunning smith shall mend it and it goeth again to the fray;
If my hand might have held for a moment, yea, even against his will,
The life of my belovèd!  But Weird is the master still:
And this man’s love of my body and his love of the ancient kin
Were matters o’er mighty to deal with and the game withal to win.
Woe’s me for the waning of all things, and my hope that needs
must fade
As the fruitless sun of summer on the waste where nought is made!
And now farewell, O daughter, thou mayst not see the kiss
Of the hapless and the death-doomed when I have told of this;
Yet once again shalt thou see him, though I no more again,
Fair with the joy that hopeth and dieth not in vain.”
Then came the Hall-Sun close to her, and knelt down by her, and laid
her head upon her knees and wept for love of her mother, who kissed
her oft and caressed her; and Thiodolf’s hand strayed, as it were,
on to his daughter’s head, and he looked kindly on her, though
scarce now as if he knew her.  Then she arose when she had kissed
her mother once more, and went her ways from that wood-lawn into the
woods again, and so to the Folk-mote of her people.
But when those twain were all alone again, the Wood-Sun spoke: “O
Thiodolf canst thou hear me and understand?”
“Yea,” he said, “when thou speakest of certain
matters, as of our love together, and of our daughter that came of our
love.”
“Thiodolf,” she said, “How long shall our love
last?”
“As long as our life,” he said.
“And if thou diest to-day, where then shall our love be?”
said the Wood-Sun.
He said, “I must now say, I wot not; though time was I had
said, It shall abide with the soul of the Wolfing Kindred.”
She said: “And when that soul dieth, and the kindred is no
more?”
“Time agone,” quoth he, “I had said, it shall abide
with the Kindreds of the Earth; but now again I say, I wot not.”
“Will the Earth hide it,” said she, “when thou
diest and art borne to mound?”
“Even so didst thou say when we spake together that other night,”
said he; “and now I may say nought against thy word.”
“Art thou happy, O Folk-Wolf?” she said.
“Why dost thou ask me?” said he; “I know not; we
were sundered and I longed for thee; thou art here; it is enough.”
“And the people of thy Kindred?” she said, “dost
thou not long for them?”
He said; “Didst thou not say that I was not of them? 
Yet were they my friends, and needed me, and I loved them: but by this
evening they will need me no more, or but little; for they will be victorious
over their foes: so hath the Hall-Sun foretold.  What then! shall
I take all from thee to give little to them?”
“Thou art wise,” she said; “Wilt thou go to battle
to-day?”
“So it seemeth,” said he.
She said: “And wilt thou bear the Dwarf-wrought Hauberk? for
if thou dost, thou wilt live, and if thou dost not, thou wilt die.”
“I will bear it,” said he, “that I may live to
love thee.”
“Thinkest thou that any evil goes with it?” said she.
There came into his face a flash of his ancient boldness as he answered:
“So it seemed to me yesterday, when I fought clad in it the first
time; and I fell unsmitten on the meadow, and was shamed, and would
have slain myself but for thee.  And yet it is not so that any
evil goes with it; for thou thyself didst say that past night that there
was no evil weird in it.”
She said: “How then if I lied that night?”
Said he; “It is the wont of the Gods to lie, and be unashamed,
and men-folk must bear with it.”
“Ah! how wise thou art!” she said; and was silent for
a while, and drew away from him a little, and clasped her hands together
and wrung them for grief and anger.  Then she grew calm again,
and said:
“Wouldest thou die at my bidding?”
“Yea,” said he, “not because thou art of the Gods,
but because thou hast become a woman to me, and I love thee.”
Then was she silent some while, and at last she said, “Thiodolf,
wilt thou do off the Hauberk if I bid thee?”
“Yea, yea,” said he, “and let us depart from the
Wolfings, and their strife, for they need us not.”
She was silent once more for a longer while still, and at last she
said in a cold voice; “Thiodolf, I bid thee arise, and put off
the Hauberk from thee.”
He looked at her wondering, not at her words, but at the voice wherewith
she spake them; but he arose from the stone nevertheless, and stood
stark in the moonlight; he set his hand to the collar of the war-coat,
and undid its clasps, which were of gold and blue stones, and presently
he did the coat from off him and let it slide to the ground where it
lay in a little grey heap that looked but a handful.  Then he sat
down on the stone again, and took her hand and kissed her and caressed
her fondly, and she him again, and they spake no word for a while: but
at the last he spake in measure and rhyme in a low voice, but so sweet
and clear that it might have been heard far in the hush of the last
hour of the night:
 “Dear now are this dawn-dusk’s moments as
is the last of the light
When the foemen’s ranks are wavering, and the victory feareth
night;
And of all the time I have loved thee of these am I most fain,
When I know not what shall betide me, nor what shall be my gain.
But dear as they are, they are waning, and at last the time is come
When no more shall I behold thee till I wend to Odin’s Home.
Now is the time so little that once hath been so long
That I fain would ask thee pardon wherein I have done thee wrong,
That thy longing might be softer, and thy love more sweet to have.
But in nothing have I wronged thee, there is nought that I may crave.
Strange too! as the minutes fail me, so do my speech-words fail,
Yet strong is the joy within me for this hour that crowns the tale.”
Therewith he clipped her and caressed her, and she spake nothing
for a while; and he said; “Thy face is fair and bright; art thou
not joyous of these minutes?”
She said: “Thy words are sweet; but they pierce my heart like
a sharp knife; for they tell me of thy death and the ending of our love.”
Said he; “I tell thee nothing, beloved, that thou hast not
known: is it not for this that we have met here once more?”
She answered after a while; “Yea, yea; yet mightest thou have
lived.”
He laughed, but not scornfully or bitterly and said:
“So thought I in time past: but hearken, beloved; If I fall
to-day, shall there not yet be a minute after the stroke hath fallen
on me, wherein I shall know that the day is won and see the foemen fleeing,
and wherein I shall once again deem I shall never die, whatever may
betide afterwards, and though the sword lieth deep in my breast? 
And shall I not see then and know that our love hath no end?”
Bitter grief was in her face as she heard him.  But she spake
and said: “Lo here the Hauberk which thou hast done off thee,
that thy breast might be the nearer to mine!  Wilt thou not wear
it in the fight for my sake?”
He knit his brows somewhat, and said:
“Nay, it may not be: true it is that thou saidest that no evil
weird went with it, but hearken!  Yesterday I bore it in the fight,
and ere I mingled with the foe, before I might give the token of onset,
a cloud came before my eyes and thick darkness wrapped me around, and
I fell to the earth unsmitten; and so was I borne out of the fight,
and evil dreams beset me of evil things, and the dwarfs that hate mankind. 
Then I came to myself, and the Hauberk was off me, and I rose up and
beheld the battle, that the kindreds were pressing on the foe, and I
thought not then of any past time, but of the minutes that were passing;
and I ran into the fight straightway: but one followed me with that
Hauberk, and I did it on, thinking of nought but the battle.  Fierce
then was the fray, yet I faltered in it; till the fresh men of the Romans
came in upon us and broke up our array.  Then my heart almost broke
within me, and I faltered no more, but rushed on as of old, and smote
great strokes all round about: no hurt I got, but once more came that
ugly mist over my eyes, and again I fell unsmitten, and they bore me
out of battle: then the men of our folk gave back and were overcome;
and when I awoke from my evil dreams, we had gotten away from the fight
and the Wolfing dwellings, and were on the mounds above the ford cowering
down like beaten men.  There then I sat shamed among the men who
had chosen me for their best man at the Holy Thing, and lo I was their
worst!  Then befell that which never till then had befallen me,
that life seemed empty and worthless and I longed to die and be done
with it, and but for the thought of thy love I had slain myself then
and there.
“Thereafter I went with the host to the assembly of the stay-at-homes
and fleers, and sat before the Hall-Sun our daughter, and said the words
which were put into my mouth.  But now must I tell thee a hard
and evil thing; that I loved them not, and was not of them, and outside
myself there was nothing: within me was the world and nought without
me.  Nay, as for thee, I was not sundered from thee, but thou wert
a part of me; whereas for the others, yea, even for our daughter, thine
and mine, they were but images and shows of men, and I longed to depart
from them, and to see thy body and to feel thine heart beating. 
And by then so evil was I grown that my very shame had fallen from me,
and my will to die: nay, I longed to live, thou and I, and death seemed
hateful to me, and the deeds before death vain and foolish.
“Where then was my glory and my happy life, and the hope of
the days fresh born every day, though never dying?  Where then
was life, and Thiodolf that once had lived?
“But now all is changed once more; I loved thee never so well
as now, and great is my grief that we must sunder, and the pain of farewell
wrings my heart.  Yet since I am once more Thiodolf the Mighty,
in my heart there is room for joy also.  Look at me, O Wood-Sun,
look at me, O beloved! tell me, am I not fair with the fairness of the
warrior and the helper of the folk?  Is not my voice kind, do not
my lips smile, and mine eyes shine?  See how steady is mine hand,
the friend of the folk!  For mine eyes are cleared again, and I
can see the kindreds as they are, and their desire of life and scorn
of death, and this is what they have made me myself.  Now therefore
shall they and I together earn the merry days to come, the winter hunting
and the spring sowing, the summer haysel, the ingathering of harvest,
the happy rest of midwinter, and Yuletide with the memory of the Fathers,
wedded to the hope of the days to be.  Well may they bid me help
them who have holpen me!  Well may they bid me die who have made
me live!
“For whereas thou sayest that I am not of their blood, nor
of their adoption, once more I heed it not.  For I have lived with
them, and eaten and drunken with them, and toiled with them, and led
them in battle and the place of wounds and slaughter; they are mine
and I am theirs; and through them am I of the whole earth, and all the
kindreds of it; yea, even of the foemen, whom this day the edges in
mine hand shall smite.
“Therefore I will bear the Hauberk no more in battle; and belike
my body but once more: so shall I have lived and death shall not have
undone me.
“Lo thou, is not this the Thiodolf whom thou hast loved? no
changeling of the Gods, but the man in whom men have trusted, the friend
of Earth, the giver of life, the vanquisher of death?”
And he cast himself upon her, and strained her to his bosom and kissed
her, and caressed her, and awoke the bitter-sweet joy within her, as
he cried out:
“O remember this, and this, when at last I am gone from thee!”
But when they sundered her face was bright, but the tears were on
it, and she said: “O Thiodolf, thou wert fain hadst thou done
a wrong to me so that I might forgive thee; now wilt thou forgive me
the wrong I have done thee?”
“Yea,” he said, “Even so would I do, were we both
to live, and how much more if this be the dawn of our sundering day! 
What hast thou done?”
She said: “I lied to thee concerning the Hauberk when I said
that no evil weird went with it: and this I did for the saving of thy
life.”
He laid his hand fondly on her head, and spake smiling: “Such
is the wont of the God-kin, because they know not the hearts of men. 
Tell me all the truth of it now at last.”
She said:
 “Hear then the tale of the Hauberk and the truth
there is to tell:
There was a maid of the God-kin, and she loved a man right well,
Who unto the battle was wending; and she of her wisdom knew
That thence to the folk-hall threshold should come back but a very few;
And she feared for her love, for she doubted that of these he should
not be;
So she wended the wilds lamenting, as I have lamented for thee;
And many wise she pondered, how to bring her will to pass
(E’en as I for thee have pondered), as her feet led over the grass,
Till she lifted her eyes in the wild-wood, and lo! she stood before
The Hall of the Hollow-places; and the Dwarf-lord stood in the door
And held in his hand the Hauberk, whereon the hammer’s blow
The last of all had been smitten, and the sword should be hammer now.
Then the Dwarf beheld her fairness, and the wild-wood many-leaved
Before his eyes was reeling at the hope his heart conceived;
So sorely he longed for her body; and he laughed before her and cried,
‘O Lady of the Disir, thou farest wandering wide
Lamenting thy belovèd and the folk-mote of the spear,
But if amidst of the battle this child of the hammer he bear
He shall laugh at the foemen’s edges and come back to thy lily
breast
And of all the days of his life-time shall his coming years be best.’
Then she bowed adown her godhead and sore for the Hauberk she prayed;
But his greedy eyes devoured her as he stood in the door and said;
‘Come lie in mine arms!  Come hither, and we twain the night
to wake!
And then as a gift of the morning the Hauberk shall ye take.’
So she humbled herself before him, and entered into the cave,
The dusky, the deep-gleaming, the gem-strewn golden grave.
But he saw not her girdle loosened, or her bosom gleam on his love,
For she set the sleep-thorn in him, that he saw, but might not move,
Though the bitter salt tears burned him for the anguish of his greed;
And she took the hammer’s offspring, her unearned morning meed,
And went her ways from the rock-hall and was glad for her warrior’s
sake.
But behind her dull speech followed, and the voice of the hollow spake:
‘Thou hast left me bound in anguish, and hast gained thine heart’s
desire;
Now I would that the dewy night-grass might be to thy feet as the fire,
And shrivel thy raiment about thee, and leave thee bare to the flame,
And no way but a fiery furnace for the road whereby ye came!
But since the folk of God-home we may not slay nor smite,
And that fool of the folk that thou lovest, thou hast saved in my despite,
Take with thee, thief of God-home, this other word I say:
Since the safeguard wrought in the ring-mail I may not do away
I lay this curse upon it, that whoso weareth the same,
Shall save his life in the battle, and have the battle’s shame;
He shall live through wrack and ruin, and ever have the worse,
And drag adown his kindred, and bear the people’s curse.’
“Lo, this the tale of the Hauberk, and I knew it for the truth:
And little I thought of the kindreds; of their day I had no ruth;
For I said, They are doomed to departure; in a little while must they
wane,
And nought it helpeth or hindreth if I hold my hand or refrain.
Yea, thou wert become the kindred, both thine and mine; and thy birth
To me was the roofing of heaven, and the building up of earth.
I have loved, and I must sorrow; thou hast lived, and thou must die;
Ah, wherefore were there others in the world than thou and I?”
He turned round to her and clasped her strongly in his arms again,
and kissed her many times and said:
 “Lo, here art thou forgiven; and here I say farewell!
Here the token of my wonder which my words may never tell;
The wonder past all thinking, that my love and thine should blend;
That thus our lives should mingle, and sunder in the end!
Lo, this, for the last remembrance of the mighty man I was,
Of thy love and thy forbearing, and all that came to pass!
Night wanes, and heaven dights her for the kiss of sun and earth;
Look up, look last upon me on this morn of the kindreds’ mirth!”
Therewith he arose and lingered no minute longer, but departed, going
as straight towards the Thing-stead and the Folk-mote of his kindred
as the swallow goes to her nest in the hall-porch.  He looked not
once behind him, though a bitter wailing rang through the woods and
filled his heart with the bitterness of her woe and the anguish of the
hour of sundering.
CHAPTER XXVII—THEY WEND TO THE MORNING BATTLE
Now when Thiodolf came back to the camp the signs of dawn were plain
in the sky, the moon was low and sinking behind the trees, and he saw
at once that the men were stirring and getting ready for departure. 
He looked gladly and blithely at the men he fell in with, and they at
him, and scarce could they refrain a shout when they beheld his face
and the brightness of it.  He went straight up to where the Hall-Sun
was yet sitting under her namesake, with Arinbiorn standing before her
amidst of a ring of leaders of hundreds and scores: but old Sorli sat
by her side clad in all his war-gear.
When Thiodolf first came into that ring of men they looked doubtfully
at him, as if they dreaded somewhat, but when they had well beheld him
their faces cleared, and they became joyous.
He went straight up to Arinbiorn and kissed the old warrior, and
said to him, “I give thee good morrow, O leader of the Bearings! 
Here now is come the War-duke! and meseems that we should get to work
as speedily as may be, for lo the dawning!”
“Hail to thine hand, War-duke!” said Arinbiorn joyously;
“there is no more to do but to take thy word concerning the order
wherein we shall wend; for all men are armed and ready.”
Said Thiodolf; “Lo ye, I lack war-gear and weapons!  Is
there a good sword hereby, a helm, a byrny and a shield?  For hard
will be the battle, and we must fence ourselves all we may.”
“Hard by,” said Arinbiorn, “is the war-gear of
Ivar of our House, who is dead in the night of his hurts gotten in yesterday’s
battle: thou and he are alike in stature, and with a good will doth
he give them to thee, and they are goodly things, for he comes of smithying
blood.  Yet is it a pity of Throng-plough that he lieth on the
field of the slain.”
But Thiodolf smiled and said: “Nay, Ivar’s blade shall
serve my turn to-day; and thereafter shall it be seen to, for then will
be time for many things.”
So they went to fetch him the weapons; but he said to Arinbiorn,
“Hast thou numbered the host?  What are the gleanings of
the Roman sword?”
Said Arinbiorn: “Here have we more than three thousand three
hundred warriors of the host fit for battle: and besides this here are
gathered eighteen hundred of the Wolfings and the Bearings, and of the
other Houses, mostly from over the water, and of these nigh upon seven
hundred may bear sword or shoot shaft; neither shall ye hinder them
from so doing if the battle be joined.”
Then said Thiodolf: “We shall order us into three battles;
the Wolfings and the Bearings to lead the first, for this is our business;
but others of the smaller Houses this side the water to be with us;
and the Elkings and Galtings and the other Houses of the Mid-mark on
the further side of the water to be in the second, and with them the
more part of the Nether-mark; but the men of Up-mark to be in the third,
and the stay-at-homes to follow on with them: and this third battle
to let the wood cover them till they be needed, which may not be till
the day of fight draws to an end, when all shall be needed: for no Roman
man must be left alive or untaken by this even, or else must we all
go to the Gods together.  Hearken, Arinbiorn.  I am not called
fore-sighted, and yet meseems I see somewhat how this day shall go;
and it is not to be hidden that I shall not see another battle until
the last of all battles is at hand.  But be of good cheer, for
I shall not die till the end of the fight, and once more I shall be
a man’s help unto you.  Now the first of the Romans we meet
shall not be able to stand before us, for they shall be unready, and
when their men are gotten ready and are fighting with us grimly, ye
of the second battle shall hear the war-token, and shall fall on, and
they shall be dismayed when they see so many fresh men come into the
fight; yet shall they stand stoutly; for they are valiant men, and shall
not all be taken unawares.  Then, if they withstand us long enough,
shall the third battle come forth from the wood, and fall on either
flank of them, and the day shall be won.  But I think not that
they shall withstand us so long, but that the men of Up-mark and the
stay-at-homes shall have the chasing of them.  Now get me my war-gear,
and let the first battle get them to the outgate of the garth.”
So they brought him his arms; and meanwhile the Hall-Sun spake to
one of the Captains, and he turned and went away a little space, and
then came back, having with him three strong warriors of the Wolfings,
and he brought them before the Hall-Sun, who said to them:
“Ye three, Steinulf, Athalulf, and Grani the Grey, I have sent
for you because ye are men both mighty in battle and deft wood-wrights
and house-smiths; ye shall follow Thiodolf closely, when he winneth
into the Roman garth, yet shall ye fight wisely, so that ye be not slain,
or at least not all; ye shall enter the Hall with Thiodolf, and when
ye are therein, if need be, ye shall run down the Hall at your swiftest,
and mount up into the loft betwixt the Middle-hearth and the Women’s-Chamber,
and there shall ye find good store of water in vats and tubs, and this
ye shall use for quenching the fire of the Hall if the foemen fire it,
as is not unlike to be.”
Then Grani spoke for the others and said he would pay all heed to
her words, and they departed to join their company.
Now was Thiodolf armed; and Arinbiorn, turning about before he went
to his place, beheld him and knit his brow, and said: “What is
this, Thiodolf?  Didst thou not swear to the Gods not to bear helm
or shield in the battles of this strife? yet hast thou Ivar’s
helm on thine head and his shield ready beside thee: wilt thou forswear
thyself? so doing shalt thou bring woe upon the House.”
“Arinbiorn,” said Thiodolf, “where didst thou hear
tell of me that I had made myself the thrall of the Gods?  The
oath that I sware was sworn when mine heart was not whole towards our
people; and now will I break it that I may keep what of good intent
there was in it, and cast away the rest.  Long is the story; but
if we journey together to-night I will tell it thee.  Likewise
I will tell it to the Gods if they look sourly upon me when I see them,
and all shall be well.”
He smiled as he spoke, and Arinbiorn smiled on him in turn and went
his ways to array the host.  But when he was gone Thiodolf was
alone in that place with the Hall-Sun, and he turned to her, and kissed
her, and caressed her fondly, and spake and said:
 “So fare we, O my daughter, to the sundering of
the ways;
Short is my journey henceforth to the door that ends my days,
And long the road that lieth as yet before thy feet.
How fain were I that thy journey from day to day were sweet
With peace to thee and pleasure; that a noble warrior’s hand
In its early days might lead thee adown the flowery land,
And thy children in its noon-tide cling round about thy gown,
And the wise that thy womb has carried when the sun is going down,
Be thy happy fellow-farers to tell the tale of Earth,
But I wot that for no such sweetness did we bring thee unto birth,
But to be the soul of the Wolfings till the other days should come,
And the fruit of the kindreds’ harvest with thee is garnered home.
Yet if for no blithe faring thy life-day is ordained,
Yet peace that long endureth maybe thy soul hath gained;
And thy sorrow of this even thy latest grief shall be,
The grief wherewith thou singest the death-song over me.”
She looked up at him and smiled, though the tears were on her face;
then she said:
 “Though to-day the grief beginneth yet the bitterness
is done.
Though my body wendeth barren ’neath the beams of the quickening
sun,
Yet remembrance still abideth, and long after the days of my life
Shall I live in the tale of the morning, when they tell of the ending
of strife;
And the deeds of this little hand, and the thought conceived in my heart,
And never again henceforward from the folk shall I fare apart.
And if of the Earth, my father, thou hast tidings in thy place
Thou shalt hear how they call me the Ransom and the Mother of happy
days.”
Then she wept outright for a brief space, and thereafter she said:
 “Keep this in thine heart, O father, that I shall
remember all
Since thou liftedst the she-wolf’s nursling in the oak-tree’s
leafy hall.
Yea, every time I remember when hand in hand we went
Amidst the shafts of the beech-trees, and down to the youngling bent
The Folk-wolf in his glory when the eve of fight drew nigh;
And every time I remember when we wandered joyfully
Adown the sunny meadow and lived a while of life
’Midst the herbs and the beasts and the waters so free from fear
and strife,
That thy years and thy might and thy wisdom, I had no part therein;
But thou wert as the twin-born brother of the maiden slim and thin,
The maiden shy in the feast-hall and blithe in wood and field.
Thus have we fared, my father; and e’en now when thou bearest
shield,
On the last of thy days of mid-earth, twixt us ’tis even so
That the heart of my like-aged brother is the heart of thee that I know.”
Then the bitterness of tears stayed her speech, and he spake no word
more, but took her in his arms a while and soothed her and fondled her,
and then they parted, and he went with great strides towards the outgoing
of the Thing-stead.
There he found the warriors of his House and of the Bearings and
the lesser Houses of Mid-mark, all duly ordered for wending through
the wood.  The dawn was coming on apace, but the wood was yet dark. 
But whereas the Wolfings led, and each man of them knew the wood like
his own hand, there was no straying or disarray, and in less than a
half-hour’s space Thiodolf and the first battle were come to the
wood behind the hazel-trees at the back of the hall, and before them
was the dawning round about the Roof of the Kindred; the eastern heavens
were brightening, and they could see all things clear without the wood.
CHAPTER XXVIII—OF THE STORM OF DAWNING
Then Thiodolf bade Fox and two others steal forward, and see what
of foemen was before them; so they fell to creeping on towards the open:
but scarcely had they started, before all men could hear the tramp of
men drawing nigh; then Thiodolf himself took with him a score of his
House and went quietly toward the wood-edge till they were barely within
the shadow of the beech-wood; and he looked forth and saw men coming
straight towards their lurking-place.  And those he saw were a
good many, and they were mostly of the dastards of the Goths; but with
them was a Captain of an Hundred of the Romans, and some others of his
kindred; and Thiodolf deemed that the Goths had been bidden to gather
up some of the night-watchers and enter the wood and fall on the stay-at-homes. 
So he bade his men get them aback, and he himself abode still at the
very wood’s edge listening intently with his sword bare in his
hand.  And he noted that those men of the foe stayed in the daylight
outside the wood, but a few yards from it, and, by command as it seemed,
fell silent and spake no word; and the morn was very still, and when
the sound of their tramp over the grass had ceased, Thiodolf could hear
the tramp of more men behind them.  And then he had another thought,
to wit that the Romans had sent scouts to see if the Goths yet abided
on the vantage-ground by the ford, and that when they had found them
gone, they were minded to fall on them unawares in the refuge of the
Thing-stead and were about to do so by the counsel and leading of the
dastard Goths; and that this was one body of the host led by those dastards,
who knew somewhat of the woods.  So he drew aback speedily, and
catching hold of Fox by the shoulder (for he had taken him alone with
him) he bade him creep along through the wood toward the Thing-stead,
and bring back speedy word whether there were any more foemen near the
wood thereaway; and he himself came to his men, and ordered them for
onset, drawing them up in a shallow half moon, with the bowmen at the
horns thereof, with the word to loose at the Romans as soon as they
heard the war-horn blow: and all this was done speedily and with little
noise, for they were well nigh so arrayed already.
Thus then they waited, and there was more than a glimmer of light
even under the beechen leaves, and the eastern sky was yellowing to
sunrise.  The other warriors were like hounds in the leash eager
to be slipped; but Thiodolf stood calm and high-hearted turning over
the memory of past days, and the time he thought of seemed long to him,
but happy.
Scarce had a score of minutes passed, and the Romans before them,
who were now gathered thick behind those dastards of the Goths, had
not moved, when back comes Fox and tells how he has come upon a great
company of the Romans led by their thralls of the Goths who were just
entering the wood, away there towards the Thing-stead.
“But, War-duke,” says he, “I came also across our
own folk of the second battle duly ordered in the wood ready to meet
them; and they shall be well dealt with, and the sun shall rise for
us and not for them.”
Then turns Thiodolf round to those nighest to him and says, but still
softly:
 “Hear ye a word, O people, of the wisdom of the
foe!
Before us thick they gather, and unto the death they go.
They fare as lads with their cur-dogs who have stopped a fox’s
earth,
And standing round the spinny, now chuckle in their mirth,
Till one puts by the leafage and trembling stands astare
At the sight of the Wood wolf’s father arising in his lair—
They have come for our wives and our children, and our sword-edge shall
they meet;
And which of them is happy save he of the swiftest feet?”
Speedily then went that word along the ranks of the Kindred, and
men were merry with the restless joy of battle: but scarce had two minutes
passed ere suddenly the stillness of the dawn was broken by clamour
and uproar; by shouts and shrieks, and the clashing of weapons from
the wood on their left hand; and over all arose the roar of the Markmen’s
horn, for the battle was joined with the second company of the Kindreds. 
But a rumour and murmur went from the foemen before Thiodolf’s
men; and then sprang forth the loud sharp word of the captains commanding
and rebuking, as if the men were doubtful which way they should take.
Amidst all which Thiodolf brandished his sword, and cried out in
a great voice:
 “Now, now, ye War-sons!
Now the Wolf waketh!
Lo how the Wood-beast
Wendeth in onset.
E’en as his feet fare
Fall on and follow!”
And he led forth joyously, and terrible rang the long refrained gathered
shout of his battle as his folk rushed on together devouring the little
space between their ambush and the hazel-beset greensward.
In the twinkling of an eye the half-moon had lapped around the Roman-Goths
and those that were with them; and the dastards made no stand but turned
about at once, crying out that the Gods of the Kindreds were come to
aid and none could withstand them.  But these fleers thrust against
the band of Romans who were next to them, and bore them aback, and great
was the turmoil; and when Thiodolf’s storm fell full upon them,
as it failed not to do, so close were they driven together that scarce
could any man raise his hand for a stroke.  For behind them stood
a great company of those valiant spearmen of the Romans, who would not
give way if anywise they might hold it out: and their ranks were closely
serried, shield nigh touching shield, and their faces turned toward
the foe; and so arrayed, though they might die, they scarce knew how
to flee.  As they might these thrust and hewed at the fleers, and
gave fierce words but few to the Roman-Goths, driving them back against
their foemen: but the fleers had lost the cunning of their right hands,
and they had cast away their shields and could not defend their very
bodies against the wrath of the kindreds; and when they strove to flee
to the right hand or to the left, they were met by the horns of the
half-moon, and the arrows began to rain in upon them, and from so close
were they shot at that no shaft failed to smite home.
There then were the dastards slain; and their bodies served for a
rampart against the onrush of the Markmen to those Romans who had stood
fast.  To them were gathering more and more every minute, and they
faced the Goths steadily with their hard brown visages and gleaming
eyes above their iron-plated shields; not casting their spears, but
standing closely together, silent, but fierce.  The light was spread
now over all the earth; the eastern heavens were grown golden-red, flecked
here and there with little crimson clouds: this battle was fallen near
silent, but to the North was great uproar of shouts and cries, and the
roaring of the war-horns, and the shrill blasts of the brazen trumpets.
Now Thiodolf, as his wont was when he saw that all was going well,
had refrained himself of hand-strokes, but was here and there and everywhere
giving heart to his folk, and keeping them in due order, and close array,
lest the Romans should yet come among them.  But he watched the
ranks of the foe, and saw how presently they began to spread out beyond
his, and might, if it were not looked to, take them in flank; and he
was about to order his men anew to meet them, when he looked on his
left hand and saw how Roman men were pouring thick from the wood out
of all array, followed by a close throng of the kindreds: for on this
side the Romans were outnumbered and had stumbled unawares into the
ambush of the Markmen, who had fallen on them straightway and disarrayed
them from the first.  This flight of their folk the Romans saw
also, and held their men together, refraining from the onset, as men
who deem that they will have enough to do to stand fast.
But the second battle of the Markmen, (who were of the Nether-mark,
mingled with the Mid-mark) fought wisely, for they swept those fleers
from before them, slaying many and driving the rest scattering, yet
held the chase for no long way, but wheeling about came sidelong on
toward the battle of the Romans and Thiodolf.  And when Thiodolf
saw that, he set up the whoop of victory, he and his, and fell fiercely
on the Romans, casting everything that would fly, as they rushed on
to the handplay; so that there was many a Roman slain with the Roman
spears that those who had fallen had left among their foemen.
Now the Roman captains perceived that it availed not to tarry till
the men of the Mid and Nether-marks fell upon their flank; so they gave
command, and their ranks gave back little by little, facing their foes,
and striving to draw themselves within the dike and garth, which, after
their custom, they had already cast up about the Wolfing Roof, their
stronghold.
Now as fierce as was the onset of the Markmen, the main body of the
Romans could not be hindered from doing this much before the men of
the second battle were upon them; but Thiodolf and Arinbiorn with some
of the mightiest brake their array in two places and entered in amongst
them.  And wrath so seized upon the soul of Arinbiorn for the slaying
of Otter, and his own fault towards him, that he cast away his shield,
and heeding no strokes, first brake his sword in the press, and then,
getting hold of a great axe, smote at all before him as though none
smote at him in turn; yea, as though he were smiting down tree-boles
for a match against some other mighty man; and all the while amidst
the hurry, strokes of swords and spears rained on him, some falling
flatwise and some glancing sideways, but some true and square, so that
his helm was smitten off and his hauberk rent adown, and point and edge
reached his living flesh; and he had thrust himself so far amidst the
foe that none could follow to shield him, so that at last he fell shattered
and rent at the foot of the new clayey wall cast up by the Romans, even
as Thiodolf and a band with him came cleaving the press, and the Romans
closed the barriers against friend and foe, and cast great beams adown,
and masses of iron and lead and copper taken from the smithying-booths
of the Wolfings, to stay them if it were but a little.
Then Thiodolf bestrode the fallen warrior, and men of his House were
close behind him, for wisely had he fought, cleaving the press like
a wedge, helping his friends that they might help him, so that they
all went forward together.  But when he saw Arinbiorn fall he cried
out:
“Woe’s me, Arinbiorn! that thou wouldest not wait for
me; for the day is young yet, and over-young!”
There then they cleared the space outside the gate, and lifted up
the Bearing Warrior, and bare him back from the rampart.  For so
fierce had been the fight and so eager the storm of those that had followed
after him that they must needs order their battle afresh, since Thiodolf’s
wedge which he had driven into the Roman host was but of a few and the
foe had been many and the rampart and the shot-weapons were close anigh. 
Wise therefore it seemed to abide them of the second battle and join
with them to swarm over the new-built slippery wall in the teeth of
the Roman shot.
In this, the first onset of the Morning Battle, some of the Markmen
had fallen, but not many, since but a few had entered outright into
the Roman ranks; and when they first rushed on from the wood but three
of them were slain, and the slaughter was all of the dastards and the
Romans; and afterwards not a few of the Romans were slain, what by Arinbiorn,
what by the others; for they were fighting fleeing, and before their
eyes was the image of the garth-gate which was behind them; and they
stumbled against each other as they were driven sideways against the
onrush of the Goths, nor were they now standing fair and square to them,
and they were hurried and confused with the dread of the onset of them
of the two Marks.
As yet Thiodolf had gotten no great hurt, so that when he heard that
Arinbiorn’s soul had passed away he smiled and said:
“Yea, yea, Arinbiorn might have abided the end, for ere then
shall the battle be hard.”
So now the Wolfings and the Bearings met joyously the kindreds of
the Nether Mark and the others of the second battle, and they sang the
song of victory arrayed in good order hard by the Roman rampart, while
bowstrings twanged and arrows whistled, and sling-stones hummed from
this side and from that.
And of their song of victory thus much the tale telleth:
    “Now hearken and hear
   Of the day-dawn of fear,
   And how up rose the sun
   On the battle begun.
   All night lay a-hiding,
   Our anger abiding,
   Dark down in the wood
   The sharp seekers of blood;
But ere red grew the heaven we bore them all bare,
For against us undriven the foemen must fare;
They sought and they found us, and sorrowed to find,
For the tree-boles around us the story shall mind,
How fast from the glooming they fled to the light,
Yeasaying the dooming of Tyr of the fight.
   “Hearken yet and again
   How the night gan to wane,
   And the twilight stole on
   Till the world was well won!
   E’en in such wise was wending
   A great host for our ending;
   On our life-days e’en so
   Stole the host of the foe;
Till the heavens grew lighter, and light grew the world,
And the storm of the fighter upon them was hurled,
Then some fled the stroke, and some died and some stood,
Till the worst of the storm broke right out from the wood,
And the war-shafts were singing the carol of fear,
The tale of the bringing the sharp swords anear.
   “Come gather we now,
   For the day doth grow.
   Come, gather, ye bold,
   Lest the day wax old;
   Lest not till to-morrow
   We slake our sorrow,
   And heap the ground
   With many a mound.
Come, war-children, gather, and clear we the land!
In the tide of War-father the deed is to hand.
Clad in gear that we gilded they shrink from our sword;
In the House that we builded they sit at the board;
Come, war-children, gather, come swarm o’er the wall
For the feast of War-father to sweep out the Hall!”
Now amidst of their singing the sun rose upon the earth, and gleamed
in the arms of men, and lit the faces of the singing warriors as they
stood turned toward the east.
In this first onset of battle but twenty and three Markmen were slain
in all, besides Arinbiorn; for, as aforesaid, they had the foe at a
disadvantage.  And this onset is called in the tale the Storm of
Dawning.
CHAPTER XXI—OF THIODOLF’S STORM
The Goths tarried not over their victory; they shot with all the
bowmen that they had against the Romans on the wall, and therewith arrayed
themselves to fall on once more.  And Thiodolf, now that the foe
were covered by a wall, though it was but a little one, sent a message
to the men of the third battle, them of Up-mark to wit, to come forward
in good array and help to make a ring around the Wolfing Stead, wherein
they should now take the Romans as a beast is taken in a trap. 
Meanwhile, until they came, he sent other men to the wood to bring tree-boles
to batter the gate, and to make bridges whereby to swarm over the wall,
which was but breast-high on the Roman side, though they had worked
at it ceaselessly since yesterday morning.
In a long half-hour, therefore, the horns of the men of Up-mark sounded,
and they came forth from the wood a very great company, for with them
also were the men of the stay-at-homes and the homeless, such of them
as were fit to bear arms.  Amongst these went the Hall-Sun surrounded
by a band of the warriors of Up-mark; and before her was borne her namesake
the Lamp as a sign of assured victory.  But these stay-at-homes
with the Hall-Sun were stayed by the command of Thiodolf on the crown
of the slope above the dwellings, and stood round about the Speech-Hill,
on the topmost of which stood the Hall-Sun, and the wondrous Lamp, and
the men who warded her and it.
When the Romans saw the new host come forth from the wood, they might
well think that they would have work enough to do that day; but when
they saw the Hall-Sun take her stand on the Speech-Hill with the men-at-arms
about her, and the Lamp before her, then dread of the Gods fell upon
them, and they knew that the doom had gone forth against them. 
Nevertheless they were not men to faint and die because the Gods were
become their foes, but they were resolved rather to fight it out to
the end against whatsoever might come against them, as was well seen
afterwards.
Now they had made four gates to their garth according to their custom,
and at each gate within was there a company of their mightiest men,
and each was beset by the best of the Markmen.  Thiodolf and his
men beset the western gate where they had made that fierce onset. 
And the northern gate was beset by the Elkings and some of the kindreds
of the Nether-mark; and the eastern gate by the rest of the men of Nether-mark;
and the southern gate by the kindreds of Up-mark.
All this the Romans noted, and they saw how that the Markmen were
now very many, and they knew that they were men no less valiant than
themselves, and they perceived that Thiodolf was a wise Captain; and
in less than two hours’ space from the Storm of Dawning they saw
those men coming from the wood with plenteous store of tree-trunks to
bridge their ditch and rampart; and they considered how the day was
yet very young, so that they might look for no shelter from the night-tide;
and as for any aid from their own folk at the war-garth aforesaid, they
hoped not for it, nor had they sent any messenger to the Captain of
the garth; nor did they know as yet of his overthrow on the Ridge.
Now therefore there seemed to be but two choices before them; either
to abide within the rampart they had cast up, or to break out like valiant
men, and either die in the storm, or cleave a way through, whereby they
might come to their kindred and their stronghold south-east of the Mark.
This last way then they chose; or, to say the truth, it was their
chief captain who chose it for them, though they were nothing loth thereto:
for this man was a mocker, yet hot-headed, unstable, and nought wise
in war, and heretofore had his greed minished his courage; yet now,
being driven into a corner, he had courage enough and to spare, but
utterly lacked patience; for it had been better for the Romans to have
abided one or two onsets from the Goths, whereby they who should make
the onslaught would at the least have lost more men than they on whom
they should fall, before they within stormed forth on them; but their
pride took away from the Romans their last chance.  But their captain,
now that he perceived, as he thought, that the game was lost and his
life come to its last hour wherein he would have to leave his treasure
and pleasure behind him, grew desperate and therewith most fierce and
cruel.  So all the captives whom they had taken (they were but
two score and two, for the wounded men they had slain) he caused to
be bound on the chairs of the high-seat clad in their war-gear with
their swords or spears made fast to their right hands, and their shields
to their left hands; and he said that the Goths should now hold a Thing
wherein they should at last take counsel wisely, and abstain from folly. 
For he caused store of faggots and small wood smeared with grease and
oil to be cast into the hall that it might be fired, so that it and
the captives should burn up altogether; “So,” said he, “shall
we have a fair torch for our funeral fire;” for it was the custom
of the Romans to burn their dead.
Thus, then, he did; and then he caused men to do away the barriers
and open all the four gates of the new-made garth, after he had manned
the wall with the slingers and bowmen, and slain the horses, so that
the woodland folk should have no gain of them.  Then he arrayed
his men at the gates and about them duly and wisely, and bade those
valiant footmen fall on the Goths who were getting ready to fall on
them, and to do their best.  But he himself armed at all points
took his stand at the Man’s-door of the Hall, and swore by all
the Gods of his kindred that he would not move a foot’s length
from thence either for fire or for steel.
So fiercely on that fair morning burned the hatred of men about the
dwellings of the children of the Wolf of the Goths, wherein the children
of the Wolf of Rome were shut up as in a penfold of slaughter.
Meanwhile the Hall-Sun standing on the Hill of Speech beheld it all,
looking down into the garth of war; for the new wall was no hindrance
to her sight, because the Speech-Hill was high and but a little way
from the Great Roof; and indeed she was within shot of the Roman bowmen,
though they were not very deft in shooting.
So now she lifted up her voice and sang so that many heard her; for
at this moment of time there was a lull in the clamour of battle both
within the garth and without; even as it happens when the thunder-storm
is just about to break on the world, that the wind drops dead, and the
voice of the leaves is hushed before the first great and near flash
of lightening glares over the fields.
So she sang:
 “Now the latest hour cometh and the ending of the
strife;
And to-morrow and to-morrow shall we take the hand of life,
And wend adown the meadows, and skirt the darkling wood,
And reap the waving acres, and gather in the good.
I see a wall before me built up of steel and fire,
And hurts and heart-sick striving, and the war-wright’s fierce
desire;
But there-amidst a door is, and windows are therein;
And the fair sun-litten meadows and the Houses of the kin
Smile on me through the terror my trembling life to stay,
That at my mouth now flutters, as fain to flee away.
Lo e’en as the little hammer and the blow-pipe of the wright
About the flickering fire deals with the silver white,
And the cup and its beauty groweth that shall be for the people’s
feast,
And all men are glad to see it from the greatest to the least;
E’en so is the tale now fashioned, that many a time and oft
Shall be told on the acre’s edges, when the summer eve is soft;
Shall be hearkened round the hall-blaze when the mid-winter night
The kindreds’ mirth besetteth, and quickeneth man’s delight,
And we that have lived in the story shall be born again and again
As men feast on the bread of our earning, and praise the grief-born
grain.”
As she made an end of singing, those about her understood her words,
that she was foretelling victory, and the peace of the Mark, and for
joy they raised a shrill cry; and the warriors who were nighest to her
took it up, and it spread through the whole host round about the garth,
and went up into the breath of the summer morning and went down the
wind along the meadow of the Wolfings, so that they of the wain-burg,
who were now drawing somewhat near to Wolf-stead heard it and were glad.
But the Romans when they heard it knew that the heart of the battle
was reached, and they cast back that shout wrathfully and fiercely,
and made toward the foe.
Therewithal those mighty men fell on each other in the narrow passes
of the garth; for fear was dead and buried in that Battle of the Morning.
On the North gate Hiarandi of the Elkings was the point of the Markmen’s
wedge, and first clave the Roman press.  In the Eastern gate it
was Valtyr, Otter’s brother’s son, a young man and most
mighty.  In the South gate it was Geirbald of the Shieldings, the
Messenger.
In the west gate Thiodolf the War-duke gave one mighty cry like the
roar of an angry lion, and cleared a space before him for the wielding
of Ivar’s blade; for at that moment he had looked up to the Roof
of the Kindred and had beheld a little stream of smoke curling blue
out of a window thereof, and he knew what had betided, and how short
was the time before them.  But his wrathful cry was taken up by
some who had beheld that same sight, and by others who saw nought but
the Roman press, and terribly it rang over the swaying struggling crowd.
Then fell the first rank of the Romans before those stark men and
mighty warriors; and they fell even where they stood, for on neither
side could any give back but for a little space, so close the press
was, and the men so eager to smite.  Neither did any crave peace
if he were hurt or disarmed; for to the Goths it was but a little thing
to fall in hot blood in that hour of love of the kindred, and longing
for the days to be.  And for the Romans, they had had no mercy,
and now looked for none: and they remembered their dealings with the
Goths, and saw before them, as it were, once more, yea, as in a picture,
their slayings and quellings, and lashings, and cold mockings which
they had dealt out to the conquered foemen without mercy, and now they
longed sore for the quiet of the dark, when their hard lives should
be over, and all these deeds forgotten, and they and their bitter foes
should be at rest for ever.
Most valiantly they fought; but the fury of their despair could not
deal with the fearless hope of the Goths, and as rank after rank of
them took the place of those who were hewn down by Thiodolf and the
Kindred, they fell in their turn, and slowly the Goths cleared a space
within the gates, and then began to spread along the wall within, and
grew thicker and thicker.  Nor did they fight only at the gates;
but made them bridges of those tree-trunks, and fell to swarming over
the rampart, till they had cleared it of the bowmen and slingers, and
then they leaped down and fell upon the flanks of the Romans; and the
host of the dead grew, and the host of the living lessened.
Moreover the stay-at-homes round about the Speech-Hill, and that
band of the warriors of Up-mark who were with them, beheld the Great
Roof and saw the smoke come gushing out of the windows, and at last
saw the red flames creep out amidst it and waver round the window jambs
like little banners of scarlet cloth.  Then they could no longer
refrain themselves, but ran down from the Speech-Hill and the slope
about it with great and fierce cries, and clomb the wall where it was
unmanned, helping each other with hand and back, both stark warriors,
and old men and lads and women: and thus they gat them into the garth
and fell upon the lessening band of the Romans, who now began to give
way hither and thither about the garth, as they best might.
Thus it befell at the West-gate, but at the other gates it was no
worser, for there was no diversity of valour between the Houses; nay,
whereas the more part and the best part of the Romans faced the onset
of Thiodolf, which seemed to them the main onset, they were somewhat
easier to deal with elsewhere than at the West gate; and at the East
gate was the place first won, so that Valtyr and his folk were the first
to clear a space within the gate, and to tell the tale shortly (for
can this that and the other sword-stroke be told of in such a medley?)
they drew the death-ring around the Romans that were before them, and
slew them all to the last man, and then fell fiercely on the rearward
of them of the North gate, who still stood before Hiarandi’s onset. 
There again was no long tale to tell of, for Hiarandi was just winning
the gate, and the wall was cleared of the Roman shot-fighters, and the
Markmen were standing on the top thereof, and casting down on the Romans
spears and baulks of wood and whatsoever would fly.  There again
were the Romans all slain or put out of the fight, and the two bands
of the kindred joined together, and with what voices the battle-rage
had left them cried out for joy and fared on together to help to bind
the sheaves of war which Thiodolf’s sickle had reaped.  And
now it was mere slaying, and the Romans, though they still fought in
knots of less than a score, yet fought on and hewed and thrust without
more thought or will than the stone has when it leaps adown the hill-side
after it has first been set agoing.
But now the garth was fairly won and Thiodolf saw that there was
no hope for the Romans drawing together again; so while the kindreds
were busied in hewing down those knots of desperate men, he gathered
to him some of the wisest of his warriors, amongst whom were Steinulf
and Grani the Grey, the deft wood-wrights (but Athalulf had been grievously
hurt by a spear and was out of the battle), and drave a way through
the confused turmoil which still boiled in the garth there, and made
straight for the Man’s-door of the Hall.  Soon he was close
thereto, having hewn away all fleers that hindered him, and the doorway
was before him.  But on the threshold, the fire and flames of the
kindled hall behind him, stood the Roman Captain clad in gold-adorned
armour and surcoat of sea-born purple; the man was cool and calm and
proud, and a mocking smile was on his face: and he bore his bright blade
unbloodied in his hand.
Thiodolf stayed a moment of time, and their eyes met; it had gone
hard with the War-duke, and those eyes glittered in his pale face, and
his teeth were close set together; though he had fought wisely, and
for life, as he who is most valiant ever will do, till he is driven
to bay like the lone wood-wolf by the hounds, yet had he been sore mishandled. 
His helm and shield were gone, his hauberk rent; for it was no dwarf-wrought
coat, but the work of Ivar’s hand: the blood was running down
from his left arm, and he was hurt in many places: he had broken Ivar’s
sword in the medley, and now bore in his hand a strong Roman short-sword,
and his feet stood bloody on the worn earth anigh the Man’s-door.
He looked into the scornful eyes of the Roman lord for a little minute
and then laughed aloud, and therewithal, leaping on him with one spring,
turned sideways, and dealt him a great buffet on his ear with his unarmed
left hand, just as the Roman thrust at him with his sword, so that the
Captain staggered forward on to the next man following, which was Wolfkettle
the eager warrior, who thrust him through with his sword and shoved
him aside as they all strode into the hall together.  Howbeit no
sword fell from the Roman Captain as he fell, for Thiodolf’s side
bore it into the Hall of the Wolfings.
Most wrathful were those men, and went hastily, for their Roof was
full of smoke, and the flames flickered about the pillars and the wall
here and there, and crept up to the windows aloft; yet was it not wholly
or fiercely burning; for the Roman fire-raisers had been hurried and
hasty in their work.  Straightway then Steinulf and Grani led the
others off at a run towards the loft and the water; but Thiodolf, who
went slowly and painfully, looked and beheld on the dais those men bound
for the burning, and he went quietly, and as a man who has been sick,
and is weak, up on to the dais, and said:
“Be of good cheer, O brothers, for the kindreds have vanquished
the foemen, and the end of strife is come.”
His voice sounded strange and sweet to them amidst the turmoil of
the fight without; he laid down his sword on the table, and drew a little
sharp knife from his girdle and cut their bonds one by one and loosed
them with his blood-stained hands; and each one as he loosed him he
kissed and said to him, “Brother, go help those who are quenching
the fire; this is the bidding of the War-duke.”
But as he loosed one after other he was longer and longer about it,
and his words were slower.  At last he came to the man who was
bound in his own high-seat close under the place of the wondrous Lamp,
the Hall-Sun, and he was the only one left bound; that man was of the
Wormings and was named Elfric; he loosed him and was long about it;
and when he was done he smiled on him and kissed him, and said to him:
“Arise, brother! go help the quenchers of the fire, and leave
to me this my chair, for I am weary: and if thou wilt, thou mayst bring
me of that water to drink, for this morning men have forgotten the mead
of the reapers!”
Then Elfric arose, and Thiodolf sat in his chair, and leaned back
his head; but Elfric looked at him for a moment as one scared, and then
ran his ways down the hall, which now was growing noisy with the hurry
and bustle of the quenchers of the fire, to whom had divers others joined
themselves.
There then from a bucket which was still for a moment he filled a
wooden bowl, which he caught up from the base of one of the hall-pillars,
and hastened up the Hall again; and there was no man nigh the dais,
and Thiodolf yet sat in his chair, and the hall was dim with the rolling
smoke, and Elfric saw not well what the War-duke was doing.  So
he hastened on, and when he was close to Thiodolf he trod in something
wet, and his heart sank for he knew that it was blood; his foot slipped
therewith and as he put out his hand to save himself the more part of
the water was spilled, and mingled with the blood.  But he went
up to Thiodolf and said to him, “Drink, War-duke! here hath come
a mouthful of water.”
But Thiodolf moved not for his word, and Elfric touched him, and
he moved none the more.
Then Elfric’s heart failed him and he laid his hand on the
War-duke’s hand, and looked closely into his face; and the hand
was cold and the face ashen-pale; and Elfric laid his hand on his side,
and he felt the short-sword of the Roman leader thrust deep therein,
besides his many other hurts.
So Elfric knew that he was dead, and he cast the bowl to the earth,
and lifted up his hands and wailed out aloud, like a woman who hath
come suddenly on her dead child, and cried out in a great voice:
“Hither, hither, O men in this hall, for the War-duke of the
Markmen is dead!  O ye people, Hearken!  Thiodolf the Mighty,
the Wolfing is dead!”
And he was a young man, and weak with the binding and the waiting
for death, and he bowed himself adown and crouched on the ground and
wept aloud.
But even as he cried that cry, the sunlight outside the Man’s-door
was darkened, and the Hall-Sun came over the threshold in her ancient
gold-embroidered raiment, holding in her hand her namesake the wondrous
Lamp; and the spears and the war-gear of warriors gleamed behind her;
but the men tarried on the threshold till she turned about and beckoned
to them, and then they poured in through the Man’s-door, their
war-gear rent and they all befouled and disarrayed with the battle,
but with proud and happy faces: as they entered she waved her hand to
them to bid them go join the quenchers of the fire; so they went their
ways.
But she went with unfaltering steps up to the dais, and the place
where the chain of the Lamp hung down from amidst the smoke-cloud wavering
a little in the gusts of the hall.  Straightway she made the Lamp
fast to its chain, and dealt with its pulleys with a deft hand often
practised therein, and then let it run up toward the smoke-hidden Roof
till it gleamed in its due place once more, a token of the salvation
of the Wolfings and the welfare of all the kindreds.
Then she turned toward Thiodolf with a calm and solemn face, though
it was very pale and looked as if she would not smile again.  Elfric
had risen up and was standing by the board speechless and the passion
of sobs still struggling in his bosom.  She put him aside gently,
and went up to Thiodolf and stood above him, and looked down on his
face a while: then she put forth her hand and closed his eyes, and stooped
down and kissed his face.  Then she stood up again and faced the
Hall and looked and saw that many were streaming in, and that though
the smoke was still eddying overhead, the fire was well nigh quenched
within; and without the sound of battle had sunk and died away. 
For indeed the Markmen had ended their day’s work before noon-tide
that day, and the more part of the Romans were slain, and to the rest
they had given peace till the Folk-mote should give Doom concerning
them; for pity of these valiant men was growing in the hearts of the
valiant men who had vanquished them, now that they feared them no more.
And this second part of the Morning Battle is called Thiodolf’s
Storm.
So now when the Hall-Sun looked and beheld that the battle was done
and the fire quenched, and when she saw how every man that came into
the Hall looked up and beheld the wondrous Lamp and his face quickened
into joy at the sight of it; and how most looked up at the high-seat
and Thiodolf lying leaned back therein, her heart nigh broke between
the thought of her grief and of the grief of the Folk that their mighty
friend was dead, and the thought of the joy of the days to be and all
the glory that his latter days had won.  But she gathered heart,
and casting back the dark tresses of her hair, she lifted up her voice
and cried out till its clear shrillness sounded throughout all the Roof:
“O men in this Hall the War-duke is dead!  O people hearken!
for Thiodolf the Mighty hath changed his life: Come hither, O men, Come
hither, for this is true, that Thiodolf is dead!”
CHAPTER XXX—THIODOLF IS BORNE OUT OF THE HALL AND OTTER IS
LAID BESIDE HIM
So when they heard her voice they came thither flockmeal, and a great
throng mingled of many kindreds was in the Hall, but with one consent
they made way for the Children of the Wolf to stand nearest to the dais. 
So there they stood, the warriors mingled with the women, the swains
with the old men, the freemen with the thralls: for now the stay-at-homes
of the House were all gotten into the garth, and the more part of them
had flowed into the feast-hall when they knew that the fire was slackening.
All these now had heard the clear voice of the Hall-Sun, or others
had told them what had befallen; and the wave of grief had swept coldly
over them amidst their joy of the recoverance of their dwelling-place;
yet they would not wail nor cry aloud, even to ease their sorrow, till
they had heard the words of the Hall-Sun, as she stood facing them beside
their dead War-duke.
Then she spake: “O Sorli the Old, come up hither! thou hast
been my fellow in arms this long while.”
So the old man came forth, and went slowly in his clashing war-gear
up on to the dais.  But his attire gleamed and glittered, since
over-old was he to thrust deep into the press that day, howbeit he was
wise in war.  So he stood beside her on the dais holding his head
high, and proud he looked, for all his thin white locks and sunken eyes.
But again said the Hall-Sun: “Canst thou hear me, Wolfkettle,
when I bid thee stand beside me, or art thou, too, gone on the road
to Valhall?”
Forth then strode that mighty warrior and went toward the dais: nought
fair was his array to look on; for point and edge had rent it and stained
it red, and the flaring of the hall-flames had blackened it; his face
was streaked with black withal, and his hands were as the hands of a
smith among the thralls who hath wrought unwashen in the haste and hurry
when men look to see the war-arrow abroad.  But he went up on to
the dais and held up his head proudly, and looked forth on to the hall-crowd
with eyes that gleamed fiercely from his stained and blackened face.
Again the Hall-Sun said: “Art thou also alive, O Egil the messenger? 
Swift are thy feet, but not to flee from the foe: Come up and stand
with us!”
Therewith Egil clave the throng; he was not so roughly dealt with
as was Wolfkettle, for he was a bowman, and had this while past shot
down on the Romans from aloof; and he yet held his bended bow in his
hand.  He also came up on to the dais and stood beside Wolfkettle
glancing down on the hall-crowd, looking eagerly from side to side.
Yet again the Hall-Sun spake: “No aliens now are dwelling in
the Mark; come hither, ye men of the kindreds!  Come thou, our
brother Hiarandi of the Elkings, for thy sisters, our wives, are fain
of thee.  Come thou, Valtyr of the Laxings, brother’s son
of Otter; do thou for the War-duke what thy father’s brother had
done, had he not been faring afar.  Come thou, Geirbald of the
Shieldings the messenger!  Now know we the deeds of others and
thy deeds.  Come, stand beside us for a little!”
Forth then they came in their rent and battered war-gear: and the
tall Hiarandi bore but the broken truncheon of his sword; and Valtyr
a woodman’s axe notched and dull with work; and Geirbald a Roman
cast-spear, for his own weapons had been broken in the medley; and he
came the last of the three, going as a belated reaper from the acres. 
There they stood by the others and gazed adown the hall-throng.
But the Hall-Sun spake again: “Agni of the Daylings, I see
thee now.  How camest thou into the hard handplay, old man? 
Come hither and stand with us, for we love thee.  Angantyr of the
Bearings, fair was thy riding on the day of the Battle on the Ridge! 
Come thou, be with us.  Shall the Beamings whose daughters we marry
fail the House of the Wolf to-day?  Geirodd, thou hast no longer
a weapon, but the fight is over, and this hour thou needest it not. 
Come to us, brother!  Gunbald of the Vallings, the Falcon on thy
shield is dim with the dint of point and edge, but it hath done its
work to ward thy valiant heart: Come hither, friend!  Come all
ye and stand with us!”
As she named them so they came, and they went up on to the dais and
stood altogether; and a terrible band of warriors they looked had the
fight been to begin over again, and they to meet death once more. 
And again spake the Hall-Sun:
“Steinulf and Grani, deft are your hands!  Take ye the
stalks of the war blossoms, the spears of the kindreds, and knit them
together to make a bier for our War-duke, for he is weary and may not
go afoot.  Thou Ali, son of Grey; thou hast gone errands for me
before; go forth now from the garth, and wend thy ways toward the water,
and tell me when thou comest back what thou hast seen of the coming
of the wain-burg.  For by this time it should be drawing anigh.”
So Ali went forth, and there was silence of words for a while in
the Hall; but there arose the sound of the wood-wrights busy with the
wimble and the hammer about the bier.  No long space had gone by
when Ali came back into the hall panting with his swift running; and
he cried out:
“O Hall-Sun, they are coming; the last wain hath crossed the
ford, and the first is hard at hand: bright are their banners in the
sun.”
Then said the Hall-Sun: “O warriors, it is fitting that we
go to meet our banners returning from the field, and that we do the
Gods to wit what deeds we have done; fitting is it also that Thiodolf
our War-duke wend with us.  Now get ye into your ordered bands,
and go we forth from the fire-scorched hall, and out into the sunlight,
that the very earth and the heavens may look upon the face of our War-duke,
and bear witness that he hath played his part as a man.”
Then without more words the folk began to stream out of the Hall,
and within the garth which the Romans had made they arrayed their companies. 
But when they were all gone from the Hall save they who were on the
dais, the Hall-Sun took the waxen torch which she had litten and quenched
at the departure of the host to battle, and now she once more kindled
it at the flame of the wondrous Lamp, the Hall-Sun.  But the wood-wrights
brought the bier which they had made of the spear-shafts of the kindred,
and they laid thereon a purple cloak gold-embroidered of the treasure
of the Wolfings, and thereon was Thiodolf laid.
Then those men took him up; to wit, Sorli the Old, and Wolfkettle
and Egil, all these were of the Wolfing House; Hiarandi of the Elkings
also, and Valtyr of the Laxings, Geirbald of the Shieldings, Agni of
the Daylings, Angantyr of the Bearings, Geirodd of the Beamings, Gunbald
of the Vallings: all these, with the two valiant wood-wrights, Steinulf
and Grani, laid hand to the bier.
So they bore it down from the dais, and out at the Man’s-door
into the sunlight, and the Hall-Sun followed close after it, holding
in her hand the Candle of Returning.  It was an hour after high-noon
of a bright midsummer day when she came out into the garth; and the
smoke from the fire-scorched hall yet hung about the trees of the wood-edge. 
She looked neither down towards her feet nor on the right side or the
left, but straight before her.  The ordered companies of the kindreds
hid the sight of many fearful things from her eyes; though indeed the
thralls and women had mostly gleaned the dead from the living both of
friend and foe, and were tending the hurt of either host.  Through
an opening in the ranks moreover could they by the bier behold the scanty
band of Roman captives, some standing up, looking dully around them,
some sitting or lying on the grass talking quietly together, and it
seemed by their faces that for them the bitterness of death was passed.
Forth then fared the host by the West gate, where Thiodolf had done
so valiantly that day, and out on to the green amidst the booths and
lesser dwellings.  Sore then was the heart of the Hall-Sun, as
she looked forth over dwelling, and acre, and meadow, and the blue line
of the woods beyond the water, and bethought her of all the familiar
things that were within the compass of her eyesight, and remembered
the many days of her father’s loving-kindness, and the fair words
wherewith he had solaced her life-days.  But of the sorrow that
wrung her heart nothing showed in her face, nor was she paler now than
her wont was.  For high was her courage, and she would in no wise
mar that fair day and victory of the kindreds with grief for what was
gone, whereas so much of what once was, yet abided and should abide
for ever.
Then fared they down through the acres, where what was yet left of
the wheat was yellowing toward harvest, and the rye hung grey and heavy;
for bright and hot had the weather been all through these tidings. 
Howbeit much of the corn was spoiled by the trampling of the Roman bands.
So came they into the fair open meadow and saw before them the wains
coming to meet them with their folk; to wit a throng of stout carles
of the thrall-folk led by the war-wise and ripe men of the Steerings. 
Bright was the gleaming of the banner-wains, though for the lack of
wind the banners hung down about their staves; the sound of the lowing
of the bulls and the oxen, the neighing of horses and bleating of the
flocks came up to the ears of the host as they wended over the meadow.
They made stay at last on the rising ground, all trampled and in
parts bloody, where yesterday Thiodolf had come on the fight between
the remnant of Otter’s men and the Romans: there they opened their
ranks, and made a ring round about a space, amidmost of which was a
little mound whereon was set the bier of Thiodolf.  The wains and
their warders came up with them and drew a garth of the wains round
about the ring of men with the banners of the kindreds in their due
places.
There was the Wolf and the Elk, the Falcon, the Swan, the Boar, the
Bear, and the Green-tree: the Willow-bush, the Gedd, the Water-bank
and the Wood-Ousel, the Steer, the Mallard and the Roe-deer: all these
were of the Mid-mark.  But of the Upper-mark were the Horse and
the Spear, and the Shield, and the Daybreak, and the Dale, and the Mountain,
and the Brook, and the Weasel, and the Cloud, and the Hart.
Of the Nether-mark were the Salmon, and the Lynx, and the Ling worm,
the Seal, the Stone, and the Sea-mew; the Buck-goat, the Apple-tree,
the Bull, the Adder, and the Crane.
There they stood in the hot sunshine three hours after noon; and
a little wind came out of the west and raised the pictured cloths upon
the banner-staves, so that the men could now see the images of the tokens
of their Houses and the Fathers of old time.
Now was there silence in the ring of men; but it opened presently
and through it came all-armed warriors bearing another bier, and lo,
Otter upon it, dead in his war-gear with many a grievous wound upon
his body.  For men had found him in an ingle of the wall of the
Great Roof, where he had been laid yesterday by the Romans when his
company and the Bearings with the Wormings made their onset: for the
Romans had noted his exceeding valour, and when they had driven off
the Goths some of them brought him dead inside their garth, for they
would know the name and dignity of so valorous a man.
So now they bore him to the mound where Thiodolf lay and set the
bier down beside Thiodolf’s, and the two War-dukes of the Markmen
lay there together: and when the warriors beheld that sight, they could
not forbear, but some groaned aloud, and some wept great tears, and
they clashed their swords on their shields and the sound of their sorrow
and their praise went up to the summer heavens.
Now the Hall-Sun holding aloft the waxen torch lifted up her voice
and said:
 “O warriors of the Wolfings, by the token of the
flame
That here in my right hand flickers, ye are back at the House of the
Name,
And there yet burneth the Hall-Sun beneath the Wolfing Roof,
And the flame that the foemen quickened hath died out far aloof.
Ye gleanings of the battle, lift up your hearts on high,
For the House of the War-wise Wolfings and the Folk undoomed to die.
But ye kindreds of the Markmen, the Wolfing guests are ye,
And to-night we hold the high-tide, and great shall the feasting be,
For to-day by the road that we know not a many wend their ways
To the Gods and the ancient Fathers, and the hope of the latter days.
And how shall their feet be cumbered if we tangle them with woe,
And the heavy rain of sorrow drift o’er the road they go?
They have toiled, and their toil was troublous to make the days to come;
Use ye their gifts in gladness, lest they grieve for the Ancient Home!
Now are our maids arraying that fire-scorched Hall of ours
With the treasure of the Wolfings and the wealth of summer flowers,
And this eve the work before you will be the Hall to throng
And purge its walls of sorrow and quench its scathe and wrong.”
She looked on the dead Thiodolf a moment, and then glanced from him
to Otter and spake again:
 “O kindreds, here before you two mighty bodies
lie;
Henceforth no man shall see them in house and field go by
As we were used to behold them, familiar to us then
As the wind beneath the heavens and the sun that shines on men;
Now soon shall there be nothing of their dwelling-place to tell,
Save the billow of the meadows, the flower-grown grassy swell!
Now therefore, O ye kindreds, if amidst you there be one
Who hath known the heart of the War-dukes, and the deeds their hands
have done,
Will not the word be with him, while yet your hearts are hot,
Of our praise and long remembrance, and our love that dieth not?
Then let him come up hither and speak the latest word
O’er the limbs of the battle-weary and the hearts outworn with
the sword.”
She held her peace, and there was a stir in the ring of men: for
they who were anigh the Dayling banner saw an old warrior sitting on
a great black horse and fully armed.  He got slowly off his horse
and walked toward the ring of warriors, which opened before him; for
all knew him for Asmund the old, the war-wise warrior of the Daylings,
even he who had lamented over the Hauberk of Thiodolf.  He had
taken horse the day before, and had ridden toward the battle, but was
belated, and had come up with them of the wain-burg just as they had
crossed the water.
CHAPTER XXXI—OLD ASMUND SPEAKETH OVER THE WAR-DUKES: THE DEAD
ARE LAID IN MOUND
Now while all looked on, he went to the place where lay the bodies
of the War-dukes, and looked down on the face of Otter and said:
 “O Otter, there thou liest! and thou that I knew
of old,
When my beard began to whiten, as the best of the keen and the bold,
And thou wert as my youngest brother, and thou didst lead my sons
When we fared forth over the mountains to meet the arrowy Huns,
And I smiled to see thee teaching the lore that I learned thee erst.
O Otter, dost thou remember how the Goth-folk came by the worst,
And with thee in mine arms I waded the wide shaft-harrowed flood
That lapped the feet of the mountains with its water blent with blood;
And how in the hollow places of the mountains hidden away
We abode the kindreds’ coming as the wet night bideth day?
Dost thou remember, Otter, how many a joy we had,
How many a grief remembered has made our high-tide glad?
O fellow of the hall-glee!  O fellow of the field!
Why then hast thou departed and left me under shield?
I the ancient, I the childless, while yet in the Laxing hall
Are thy brother’s sons abiding and their children on thee call.
“O kindreds of the people! the soul that dwelt herein,
This goodly way-worn body, was keen for you to win
Good days and long endurance.  Who knoweth of his deed
What things for you it hath fashioned from the flame of the fire of
need?
But of this at least well wot we, that forth from your hearts it came
And back to your hearts returneth for the seed of thriving and fame.
In the ground wherein ye lay it, the body of this man,
No deed of his abideth, no glory that he wan,
But evermore the Markmen shall bear his deeds o’er earth,
With the joy of the deeds that are coming, the garland of his worth.”
He was silent a little as he stood looking down on Otter’s
face with grievous sorrow, for all that his words were stout. 
For indeed, as he had said, Otter had been his battle-fellow and his
hall-fellow, though he was much younger than Asmund; and they had been
standing foot to foot in that battle wherein old Asmund’s sons
were slain by his side.
After a while he turned slowly from looking at Otter to gaze upon
Thiodolf, and his body trembled as he looked, and he opened his mouth
to speak; but no word came from it; and he sat down upon the edge of
the bier, and the tears began to gush out of his old eyes, and he wept
aloud.  Then they that saw him wondered; for all knew the stoutness
of his heart, and how he had borne more burdens than that of eld, and
had not cowered down under them.  But at last he arose again, and
stood firmly on his feet, and faced the folk-mote, and in a voice more
like the voice of a man in his prime than of an old man, he sang:
    “Wild the storm is abroad
   Of the edge of the sword!
   Far on runneth the path
   Of the war-stride of wrath!
   The Gods hearken and hear
   The long rumour of fear
   From the meadows beneath
   Running fierce o’er the heath,
Till it beats round their dwelling-place builded aloof
And at last all up-swelling breaks wild o’er their roof,
And quencheth their laughter and crieth on all,
As it rolleth round rafter and beam of the Hall,
Like the speech of the thunder-cloud tangled on high,
When the mountain-halls sunder as dread goeth by.
   “So they throw the door wide
   Of the Hall where they bide,
   And to murmuring song
   Turns that voice of the wrong,
   And the Gods wait a-gaze
   For that Wearer of Ways:
   For they know he hath gone
   A long journey alone.
Now his feet are they hearkening, and now is he come,
With his battle-wounds darkening the door of his home,
Unbyrnied, unshielded, and lonely he stands,
And the sword that he wielded is gone from his hands—
Hands outstretched and bearing no spoil of the fight,
As speechless, unfearing, he stands in their sight.
   “War-father gleams
   Where the white light streams
   Round kings of old
   All red with gold,
   And the Gods of the name
   With joy aflame.
   All the ancient of men
   Grown glorious again:
Till the Slains-father crieth aloud at the last:
‘Here is one that belieth no hope of the past!
No weapon, no treasure of earth doth he bear,
No gift for the pleasure of Godhome to share;
But life his hand bringeth, well cherished, most sweet;
And hark! the Hall singeth the Folk-wolf to greet!’
   “As the rain of May
   On earth’s happiest day,
   So the fair flowers fall
   On the sun-bright Hall
   As the Gods rise up
   With the greeting-cup,
   And the welcoming crowd
   Falls to murmur aloud.
Then the God of Earth speaketh; sweet-worded he saith,
‘Lo, the Sun ever seeketh Life fashioned of death;
And to-day as he turneth the wide world about
On Wolf-stead he yearneth; for there without doubt
Dwells the death-fashioned story, the flower of all fame.
Come hither new Glory, come Crown of the Name!’”
All men’s hearts rose high as he sang, and when he had ended
arose the clang of sword and shield and went ringing down the meadow,
and the mighty shout of the Markmen’s joy rent the heavens: for
in sooth at that moment they saw Thiodolf, their champion, sitting among
the Gods on his golden chair, sweet savours around him, and sweet sound
of singing, and he himself bright-faced and merry as no man on earth
had seen him, for as joyous a man as he was.
But when the sound of their exultation sank down, the Hall-Sun spake
again:
 “Now wendeth the sun westward, and weary grows
the Earth
Of all the long day’s doings in sorrow and in mirth;
And as the great sun waneth, so doth my candle wane,
And its flickering flame desireth to rest and die again.
Therefore across the meadows wend we aback once more
To the holy Roof of the Wolfings, the shrine of peace and war.
And these that once have loved us, these warriors images,
Shall sit amidst our feasting, and see, as the Father sees
The works that men-folk fashion and the rest of toiling hands,
When his eyes look down from the mountains and the heavens above all
lands,
And up from the flowery meadows and the rolling deeps of the sea.
There then at the feast with our champions familiar shall we be
As oft we are with the Godfolk, when in story-rhymes and lays
We laugh as we tell of their laughter, and their deeds of other days.
“Come then, ye sons of the kindreds who hither bore these twain!
Take up their beds of glory, and fare we home again,
And feast as men delivered from toil unmeet to bear,
Who through the night are looking to the dawn-tide fresh and fair
And the morn and the noon to follow, and the eve and its morrow morn,
All the life of our deliv’rance and the fair days yet unborn.”
So she spoke, and a murmur arose as those valiant men came forth
again.  But lo, now were they dight in fresh and fair raiment and
gleaming war-array.  For while all this was a-doing and a-saying,
they had gotten them by the Hall-Sun’s bidding unto the wains
of their Houses, and had arrayed them from the store therein.
So now they took up the biers, and the Hall-Sun led them, and they
went over the meadow before the throng of the kindreds, who followed
them duly ordered, each House about its banner; and when they were come
through the garth which the Romans had made to the Man’s-door
of the Hall, there were the women of the House freshly attired, who
cast flowers on the living men of the host, and on the dead War-dukes,
while they wept for pity of them.  So went the freemen of the Houses
into the Hall, following the Hall-Sun, and the bearers of the War-dukes;
but the banners abode without in the garth made by the Romans; and the
thralls arrayed a feast for themselves about the wains of the kindreds
in the open place before their cots and the smithying booths and the
byres.
And as the Hall-Sun went into the Hall, she thrust down the candle
against the threshold of the Man’s-door, and so quenched it.
Long were the kindreds entering, and when they were under the Roof
of the Wolfings, they looked and beheld Thiodolf set in his chair once
more, and Otter set beside him; and the chiefs and leaders of the House
took their places on the dais, those to whom it was due, and the Hall-Sun
sat under the wondrous Lamp her namesake.
Now was the glooming falling upon the earth; but the Hall was bright
within even as the Hall-Sun had promised.  Therein was set forth
the Treasure of the Wolfings; fair cloths were hung on the walls, goodly
broidered garments on the pillars: goodly brazen cauldrons and fair-carven
chests were set down in nooks where men could see them well, and vessels
of gold and silver were set all up and down the tables of the feast. 
The pillars also were wreathed with flowers, and flowers hung garlanded
from the walls over the precious hangings; sweet gums and spices were
burning in fair-wrought censers of brass, and so many candles were alight
under the Roof, that scarce had it looked more ablaze when the Romans
had litten the faggots therein for its burning amidst the hurry of the
Morning Battle.
There then they fell to feasting, hallowing in the high-tide of their
return with victory in their hands: and the dead corpses of Thiodolf
and Otter, clad in precious glistering raiment, looked down on them
from the High-seat, and the kindreds worshipped them and were glad;
and they drank the Cup to them before any others, were they Gods or
men.
But before the feast was hallowed in, came Ali the son of Grey up
to the High-seat, bearing something in his hand: and lo! it was Throng-plough,
which he had sought all over the field where the Markmen had been overcome
by the Romans, and had found it at last.  All men saw him how he
held it in his hand now as he went up to the Hall-Sun and spake to her. 
But she kissed the lad on the forehead, and took Throng-plough, and
wound the peace-strings round him and laid him on the board before Thiodolf;
and then she spake softly as if to herself, yet so that some heard her:
“O father, no more shalt thou draw Throng-plough from the sheath
till the battle is pitched in the last field of fight, and the sons
of the fruitful Earth and the sons of Day meet Swart and his children
at last, when the change of the World is at hand.  Maybe I shall
be with thee then: but now and in meanwhile, farewell, O mighty hand
of my father!”
Thus then the Houses of the Mark held their High-tide of Returning
under the Wolfing Roof with none to blame them or make them afraid:
and the moon rose and the summer night wore on towards dawn, and within
the Roof and without was there feasting and singing and harping and
the voice of abundant joyance: for without the Roof feasted the thralls
and the strangers, and the Roman war-captives.
But on the morrow the kindreds laid their dead men in mound betwixt
the Great Roof and the Wild-wood.  In one mound they laid them
with the War-dukes in their midst, and Arinbiorn by Otter’s right
side; and Thiodolf bore Throng-plough to mound with him.
But a little way from the mound of their own dead, toward the south
they laid the Romans, a great company, with their Captain in the midst:
and they heaped a long mound over them not right high; so that as years
wore, and the feet of men and beasts trod it down, it seemed a mere
swelling of the earth not made by men’s hands; and belike men
knew not how many bones of valiant men lay beneath; yet it had a name
which endured for long, to wit, the Battle-toft.
But the mound whereunder the Markmen were laid was called Thiodolf’s
Howe for many generations of men, and many are the tales told of him;
for men were loth to lose him and forget him: and in the latter days
men deemed of him that he sits in that Howe not dead but sleeping, with
Throng-plough laid before him on the board; and that when the sons of
the Goths are at their sorest need and the falcons cease to sit on the
ridge of the Great Roof of the Wolfings, he will wake and come forth
from the Howe for their helping.  But none have dared to break
open that Howe and behold what is therein.
But that swelling of the meadow where the Goths had their overthrow
at the hands of the Romans, and Thiodolf fell to earth unwounded, got
a name also, and was called the Swooning Knowe; and it kept that name
long after men had forgotten wherefore it was so called.
Now when all this was done, and the warriors of the kindreds were
departed each to his own stead, the Wolfings gathered in wheat-harvest,
and set themselves to make good all that the Romans had undone; and
they cleansed and mended their Great Roof and made it fairer than before,
and took from it all signs of the burning, save that they left the charring
and marks of the flames on one tie-beam, the second from the dais, for
a token of the past tidings.  Also when Harvest was over the Wolfings,
the Beamings, the Galtings, and the Elkings, set to work with the Bearings
to rebuild their Great Roof and the other dwellings and booths which
the Romans had burned; and right fair was that house.
But the Wolfings throve in field and fold, and they begat children
who grew up to be mighty men and deft of hand, and the House grew more
glorious year by year.
The tale tells not that the Romans ever fell on the Mark again; for
about this time they began to stay the spreading of their dominion,
or even to draw in its boundaries somewhat.
AND THIS IS ALL THAT THE TALE HAS TO TELL CONCERNING THE HOUSE OF
THE WOLFINGS AND THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK.
FOOTNOTES
   {1}  Welsh
with these men means Foreign, and is used for all people of Europe who
are not of Gothic or Teutonic blood.
   {2}  i.e. Foreigners:
see note   {1} 
***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS***
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THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS A TALE OF THE HOUSE OF THE WOLFINGS AND ALL THE KINDREDS OF THE MARK WRITTEN IN PROSE AND IN VERSE by William Morris
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/2885/2885-h/2885-h.htm
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien
J. R. R. Tolkien - Wikipedia
2001-11-08
Authority control
<div><div>
<table><tbody><tr><th><p>J. R. R. Tolkien</p><br /><div><p><a href="/wiki/Commander_of_the_Order_of_the_British_Empire">CBE</a> <a href="/wiki/Fellow_of_the_Royal_Society_of_Literature">FRSL</a></p></div></th></tr><tr><td><a href="/wiki/File:J._R._R._Tolkien,_ca._1925.jpg"></a><p>Tolkien in the 1920s</p></td></tr><tr><th>Born</th><td>John Ronald Reuel Tolkien<br />3 January 1892<br /><a href="/wiki/Bloemfontein">Bloemfontein</a>, <a href="/wiki/Orange_Free_State">Orange Free State</a></td></tr><tr><th>Died</th><td>2 September 1973 (aged 81)<br /><a href="/wiki/Bournemouth">Bournemouth</a>, Hampshire, England</td></tr><tr><th>Occupation</th><td><div><ul><li>Author</li><li><a href="/wiki/Academic">academic</a></li><li><a href="/wiki/Philology">philologist</a></li><li>poet</li></ul></div></td></tr><tr><th>Alma mater</th><td><a href="/wiki/Exeter_College,_Oxford">Exeter College, Oxford</a></td></tr><tr><th>Genre</th><td><div><ul><li>Fantasy</li><li><a href="/wiki/High_fantasy">high fantasy</a></li><li><a href="/wiki/Mythopoeia">mythopoeia</a></li><li>translation</li><li><a href="/wiki/Literary_criticism">literary criticism</a></li></ul></div></td></tr><tr><th>Spouse</th><td><div><div><p><a href="/wiki/Edith_Tolkien">Edith Bratt</a></p></div>
 <p>​</p> <p>​</p><p>(<abbr>m.</abbr> ; died </p><p>)<wbr></wbr>​</p></div></td></tr><tr><th>Children</th><td><div>
<ul><li><a href="/wiki/John_Francis_Reuel_Tolkien">John Francis</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Tolkien_family#Michael_Hilary_R._Tolkien">Michael Hilary</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher John</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Priscilla_Tolkien">Priscilla Anne</a></li></ul>
</div></td></tr><tr><th>Relatives</th><td><a href="/wiki/Tolkien_family">Tolkien family</a></td></tr><tr><th>Signature</th></tr><tr><td><a href="/wiki/File:JRR_Tolkien_signature_-_from_Commons.svg"></a></td></tr><tr><td></td></tr><tr><td>Military career</td></tr><tr><th>Allegiance</th><td><a href="/wiki/King_George_V">King George V</a></td></tr><tr><th>Branch</th><td><a href="/wiki/British_Army">British Army</a></td></tr><tr><th>Years</th><td>1915–1920</td></tr><tr><th>Rank</th><td><a href="/wiki/Lieutenant_(British_Army_and_Royal_Marines)">Lieutenant</a></td></tr><tr><th>Unit</th><td><a href="/wiki/Lancashire_Fusiliers">Lancashire Fusiliers</a></td></tr><tr><th>Battles</th><td><div>
<ul><li><a href="/wiki/World_War_I">World War I</a>
<ul><li><a href="/wiki/Battle_of_the_Somme">Battle of the Somme</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Capture_of_Schwaben_Redoubt">Capture of Schwaben Redoubt</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Leipzig_Salient">Capture of Leipzig Salient</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Capture_of_Regina_Trench">Capture of Regina Trench</a> (<a href="/wiki/Wounded_in_action"><abbr>WIA</abbr></a>)</li></ul></li></ul>
</div></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p><b>John Ronald Reuel Tolkien</b> <a href="/wiki/Commander_of_the_Order_of_the_British_Empire">CBE</a> <a href="/wiki/Fellow_of_the_Royal_Society_of_Literature">FRSL</a> (, <a href="/wiki/Help:Pronunciation_respelling_key"><i>ROOL TOL-keen</i></a>;<sup><a href="#cite_note-3">[a]</a></sup> 3 January 1892 – 2 September 1973) was an English writer and <a href="/wiki/Philology">philologist</a>. He was the author of the <a href="/wiki/High_fantasy">high fantasy</a> works <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i> and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings">The Lord of the Rings</a></i>.
</p><p>From 1925 to 1945, Tolkien was the <a href="/wiki/Rawlinson_and_Bosworth_Professor_of_Anglo-Saxon">Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon</a> and a <a href="/wiki/Fellow_(Oxbridge)">Fellow</a> of <a href="/wiki/Pembroke_College,_Oxford">Pembroke College</a>, both at the <a href="/wiki/University_of_Oxford">University of Oxford</a>. He then moved within the same university to become the <a href="/wiki/Merton_Professors">Merton Professor of English Language and Literature</a> and Fellow of <a href="/wiki/Merton_College,_Oxford">Merton College</a>, and held these positions from 1945 until his retirement in 1959. Tolkien was a close friend of <a href="/wiki/C._S._Lewis">C. S. Lewis</a>, a co-member of the informal literary discussion group <a href="/wiki/The_Inklings">The Inklings</a>. He was appointed a <a href="/wiki/Order_of_the_British_Empire">Commander of the Order of the British Empire</a> by Queen <a href="/wiki/Elizabeth_II">Elizabeth II</a> on 28 March 1972.
</p><p>After Tolkien's death, his son <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher</a> published a series of works based on his father's extensive notes and unpublished manuscripts, including <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i>. These, together with <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, form a connected body of tales, <a href="/wiki/Poetry_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">poems</a>, fictional histories, <a href="/wiki/Languages_constructed_by_J._R._R._Tolkien">invented languages</a>, and literary essays about a fantasy world called <a href="/wiki/Arda_(Middle-earth)">Arda</a> and, within it, <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a>. Between 1951 and 1955, Tolkien applied the term <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_legendarium">legendarium</a></i> to the larger part of these writings.
</p><p>While many other authors had published works of fantasy before Tolkien, the great success of <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> led directly to <a href="/wiki/Works_inspired_by_J._R._R._Tolkien">a popular resurgence of the genre</a>. This has caused him to be popularly identified as the "father" of <a href="/wiki/Fantasy#Modern_fantasy">modern fantasy literature</a>—or, more precisely, of <a href="/wiki/High_fantasy">high fantasy</a>.
</p>
<h2>Biography</h2>
<h3>Ancestry</h3>
<p>Tolkien's immediate paternal ancestors were middle-class craftsmen who made and sold clocks, watches and pianos in <a href="/wiki/London">London</a> and <a href="/wiki/Birmingham">Birmingham</a>. The Tolkien family originated in the <a href="/wiki/East_Prussia">East Prussian</a> town of <a href="/wiki/Kreuzburg,_East_Prussia">Kreuzburg</a> near <a href="/wiki/K%C3%B6nigsberg">Königsberg</a>, which had been founded during medieval <a href="/wiki/German_eastward_expansion">German eastward expansion</a>, where his earliest-known paternal ancestor Michel Tolkien was born around 1620. Michel's son Christianus Tolkien (1663–1746) was a wealthy miller in Kreuzburg.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Derdziński2-4">[3]</a></sup>
</p><p>His son, Christian Tolkien (1706–1791), moved from Kreuzburg to nearby <a href="/wiki/Gda%C5%84sk">Danzig</a>, and his two sons Daniel Gottlieb Tolkien (1747–1813) and Johann (later known as John) Benjamin Tolkien (1752–1819) emigrated to London in the 1770s and became the ancestors of the English family; the younger brother was J. R. R. Tolkien's second great-grandfather. In 1792, John Benjamin Tolkien and William Gravell took over the Erdley Norton manufacture in London, which from then on sold clocks and watches under the name Gravell &amp; Tolkien. Daniel Gottlieb obtained British citizenship in 1794, but John Benjamin apparently never became a British citizen. Other German relatives also joined the two brothers in London. Several people with the surname Tolkien or similar spelling, some of them members of the same family as J. R. R. Tolkien, live in northern Germany, but most of them are descendants of people who <a href="/wiki/Evacuation_of_East_Prussia">evacuated East Prussia</a> in 1945, at the end of <a href="/wiki/World_War_II">World War II</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Derdziński1-5">[4]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Derdziński2-4">[3]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-6">[5]</a></sup>
</p><p>According to Ryszard Derdziński, the Tolkien name is of <a href="/wiki/Low_Prussian_dialect">Low Prussian</a> origin and probably means "son/descendant of Tolk".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Derdziński1-5">[4]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Derdziński2-4">[3]</a></sup> Tolkien mistakenly believed his surname derived from the German word <i>tollkühn</i>, meaning "foolhardy",<sup><a href="#cite_note-7">[6]</a></sup> and jokingly inserted himself as a "cameo" into <i><a href="/wiki/The_Notion_Club_Papers">The Notion Club Papers</a></i> under the literally translated name Rashbold.<sup><a href="#cite_note-8">[7]</a></sup> However, Derdziński has demonstrated this to be a <a href="/wiki/False_etymology">false etymology</a>. While J. R. R. Tolkien was aware of his family's German origin, his knowledge of the family's history was limited because he was "early isolated from the family of his prematurely deceased father".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Derdziński1-5">[4]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Derdziński2-4">[3]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Childhood</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Mabel_Suffield_Christmas_Card.jpg"></a></p><div><p>1892 Christmas card with a coloured photo of the Tolkien family in Bloemfontein, sent to relatives in Birmingham, England</p></div></div>
<p>John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was born on 3 January 1892 in <a href="/wiki/Bloemfontein">Bloemfontein</a> in the <a href="/wiki/Orange_Free_State">Orange Free State</a> (later <a href="/wiki/Treaty_of_Vereeniging">annexed</a> by the <a href="/wiki/British_Empire">British Empire</a>; now <a href="/wiki/Free_State_Province">Free State Province</a> in the Republic of South Africa), to <a href="/wiki/Arthur_Tolkien">Arthur Reuel Tolkien</a> (1857–1896), an English bank manager, and his wife Mabel, <a href="/wiki/N%C3%A9e">née</a> Suffield (1870–1904). The couple had left England when Arthur was promoted to head the Bloemfontein office of the British bank for which he worked. Tolkien had one sibling, his younger brother, <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_family#Hilary_Tolkien">Hilary Arthur Reuel Tolkien</a>, who was born on 17 February 1894.<sup><a href="#cite_note-9">[8]</a></sup>
</p><p>As a child, Tolkien was bitten by a large <a href="/wiki/Harpactirinae">baboon spider</a> in the garden, an event some believe to have been later echoed in his stories, although he admitted no actual memory of the event and no special hatred of spiders as an adult. In an earlier incident from Tolkien's infancy, a young family servant took the baby to his homestead, returning him the next morning.<sup><a href="#cite_note-10">[9]</a></sup>
</p><p>When he was three, he went to England with his mother and brother on what was intended to be a lengthy family visit. His father, however, died in South Africa of <a href="/wiki/Rheumatic_fever">rheumatic fever</a> before he could join them.<sup><a href="#cite_note-11">[10]</a></sup> This left the family without an income, so Tolkien's mother took him to live with her parents in <a href="/wiki/Kings_Heath">Kings Heath</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-12">[11]</a></sup> Birmingham. Soon after, in 1896, they moved to <a href="/wiki/Sarehole">Sarehole</a> (now in <a href="/wiki/Hall_Green">Hall Green</a>), then a <a href="/wiki/Worcestershire">Worcestershire</a> village, later annexed to Birmingham.<sup><a href="#cite_note-13">[12]</a></sup> He enjoyed exploring <a href="/wiki/Sarehole_Mill">Sarehole Mill</a> and <a href="/wiki/Moseley_Bog">Moseley Bog</a> and the <a href="/wiki/Clent_Hills">Clent</a>, <a href="/wiki/Lickey_Hills">Lickey</a> and <a href="/wiki/Malvern_Hills">Malvern Hills</a>, which would later inspire scenes in his books, along with nearby towns and villages such as <a href="/wiki/Bromsgrove">Bromsgrove</a>, <a href="/wiki/Alcester">Alcester</a>, and <a href="/wiki/Alvechurch">Alvechurch</a> and places such as his aunt Jane's farm Bag End, the name of which he used in his fiction.<sup><a href="#cite_note-14">[13]</a></sup>
</p>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:BirminghamOratoryDome.jpg"></a></p></div>
<p>Mabel Tolkien taught her two children at home. Ronald, as he was known in the family, was a keen pupil.<sup><a href="#cite_note-15">[14]</a></sup> She taught him a great deal of <a href="/wiki/Botany">botany</a> and awakened in him the enjoyment of the look and feel of plants. Young Tolkien liked to draw landscapes and trees, but his favourite lessons were those concerning languages, and his mother taught him the rudiments of <a href="/wiki/Latin">Latin</a> very early.<sup><a href="#cite_note-DoughanBio-16">[15]</a></sup>
</p><p>Tolkien could read by the age of four and could write fluently soon afterwards. His mother allowed him to read many books. He disliked <i><a href="/wiki/Treasure_Island">Treasure Island</a></i> and "<a href="/wiki/The_Pied_Piper">The Pied Piper</a>" and thought <i><a href="/wiki/Alice%27s_Adventures_in_Wonderland">Alice's Adventures in Wonderland</a></i> by <a href="/wiki/Lewis_Carroll">Lewis Carroll</a> was "amusing but disturbing". He liked stories about <a href="/wiki/Native_Americans_in_the_United_States">"Red Indians"</a> (Native Americans) and works of fantasy by <a href="/wiki/George_MacDonald">George MacDonald</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-17">[16]</a></sup> In addition, the "Fairy Books" of <a href="/wiki/Andrew_Lang">Andrew Lang</a> were particularly important to him and their influence is apparent in some of his later writings.<sup><a href="#cite_note-18">[17]</a></sup>
</p>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:KES_Free_Grammar_School_Charles_Barry.jpg"></a></p><div><p>King Edward's School in Birmingham, where Tolkien was a pupil (1900–1902, 1903–1911)<sup><a href="#cite_note-19">[18]</a></sup></p></div></div>
<p>Mabel Tolkien was received into the <a href="/wiki/Roman_Catholic_Church">Roman Catholic Church</a> in 1900 despite vehement protests by her <a href="/wiki/Baptist">Baptist</a> family,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Biography31-20">[19]</a></sup> which stopped all financial assistance to her. In 1904, when J. R. R. Tolkien was 12, his mother died of <a href="/wiki/Diabetic_ketoacidosis">acute diabetes</a> at Fern Cottage in <a href="/wiki/Rednal">Rednal</a>, which she was renting. She was then about 34 years of age, about as old as a person with <a href="/wiki/Diabetes_mellitus_type_1">diabetes mellitus type 1</a> could survive without treatment—<a href="/wiki/Insulin">insulin</a> would not be discovered until 1921, two decades later. Nine years after her death, Tolkien wrote, "My own dear mother was a martyr indeed, and it is not to everybody that God grants so easy a way to his great gifts as he did to Hilary and myself, giving us a mother who killed herself with labour and trouble to ensure us keeping the faith."<sup><a href="#cite_note-Biography31-20">[19]</a></sup>
</p><p>Before her death, Mabel Tolkien had assigned the guardianship of her sons to her close friend, Father <a href="/wiki/Francis_Xavier_Morgan">Francis Xavier Morgan</a> of the <a href="/wiki/Birmingham_Oratory">Birmingham Oratory</a>, who was assigned to bring them up as good Catholics.<sup><a href="#cite_note-21">[20]</a></sup> In a 1965 letter to his son Michael, Tolkien recalled the influence of the man whom he always called "Father Francis": "He was an upper-class Welsh-Spaniard Tory, and seemed to some just a pottering old gossip. He was—and he was <i>not</i>. I first learned charity and forgiveness from him; and in the light of it pierced even the 'liberal' darkness out of which I came, knowing more about '<a href="/wiki/Mary_I_of_England">Bloody Mary</a>' than the <a href="/wiki/Mother_of_Jesus">Mother of Jesus</a>—who was never mentioned except as an object of wicked worship by the Romanists."<sup><a href="#cite_note-22">[T 1]</a></sup> After his mother's death, Tolkien grew up in the <a href="/wiki/Edgbaston">Edgbaston</a> area of Birmingham and attended <a href="/wiki/King_Edward%27s_School,_Birmingham">King Edward's School, Birmingham</a>, and later <a href="/wiki/St_Philip%27s_School">St Philip's School</a>. In 1903, he won a Foundation Scholarship and returned to King Edward's.<sup><a href="#cite_note-23">[21]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Youth</h3>
<p>While in his early teens, Tolkien had his first encounter with a <a href="/wiki/Constructed_language">constructed language</a>, Animalic, an invention of his cousins, Mary and <a href="/wiki/Marjorie_Incledon">Marjorie Incledon</a>. At that time, he was studying Latin and Anglo-Saxon. Their interest in Animalic soon died away, but Mary and others, including Tolkien himself, invented a new and more complex language called Nevbosh. The next constructed language he came to work with, Naffarin, would be his own creation.<sup><a href="#cite_note-24">[22]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-25">[23]</a></sup> Tolkien learned <a href="/wiki/Esperanto">Esperanto</a> some time before 1909. Around 10 June 1909 he composed "The Book of the Foxrook", a sixteen-page notebook, where the "earliest example of one of his invented alphabets" appears.<sup><a href="#cite_note-26">[24]</a></sup> Short texts in this notebook are written in Esperanto.<sup><a href="#cite_note-27">[25]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 1911, while they were at King Edward's School, Tolkien and three friends, Rob Gilson, Geoffrey Bache Smith, and Christopher Wiseman, formed a semi-secret society they called the T.C.B.S. The initials stood for Tea Club and Barrovian Society, alluding to their fondness for drinking tea in <a href="/wiki/Barrows_(department_store)">Barrow's Stores</a> near the school and, secretly, in the school library.<sup><a href="#cite_note-28">[26]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-29">[27]</a></sup> After leaving school, the members stayed in touch and, in December 1914, they held a council in London at Wiseman's home. For Tolkien, the result of this meeting was a strong dedication to writing poetry.<sup>[<i><a href="/wiki/Wikipedia:Citation_needed">citation needed</a></i>]</sup>
</p><p>In 1911, Tolkien went on a summer holiday in Switzerland, a trip that he recollects vividly in a 1968 letter,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters306-30">[T 2]</a></sup> noting that <a href="/wiki/Bilbo_Baggins">Bilbo</a>'s journey across the <a href="/wiki/Misty_Mountains">Misty Mountains</a> ("including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods") is directly based on his adventures as their party of 12 hiked from <a href="/wiki/Interlaken">Interlaken</a> to <a href="/wiki/Lauterbrunnen">Lauterbrunnen</a> and on to camp in the <a href="/wiki/Moraine">moraines</a> beyond <a href="/wiki/M%C3%BCrren">Mürren</a>. Fifty-seven years later, Tolkien remembered his regret at leaving the view of the eternal snows of <a href="/wiki/Jungfrau">Jungfrau</a> and <a href="/wiki/Silberhorn">Silberhorn</a>, "the Silvertine (<a href="/wiki/Celebdil">Celebdil</a>) of my dreams". They went across the <a href="/wiki/Kleine_Scheidegg">Kleine Scheidegg</a> to <a href="/wiki/Grindelwald">Grindelwald</a> and on across the <a href="/wiki/Grosse_Scheidegg">Grosse Scheidegg</a> to <a href="/wiki/Meiringen">Meiringen</a>. They continued across the <a href="/wiki/Grimsel_Pass">Grimsel Pass</a>, through the upper <a href="/wiki/Valais">Valais</a> to <a href="/wiki/Brig,_Switzerland">Brig</a> and on to the <a href="/wiki/Aletsch_glacier">Aletsch glacier</a> and <a href="/wiki/Zermatt">Zermatt</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-31">[28]</a></sup>
</p><p>In October of the same year, Tolkien began studying at <a href="/wiki/Exeter_College,_Oxford">Exeter College, Oxford</a>. He initially read <a href="/wiki/Classics">classics</a> but changed his course in 1913 to English language and <a href="/wiki/English_literature">literature</a>, graduating in 1915 with <a href="/wiki/First-class_honours">first-class honours</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-RoyalMail-32">[29]</a></sup> Among his tutors at Oxford was <a href="/wiki/Joseph_Wright_(linguist)">Joseph Wright</a>, whose <i>Primer of the Gothic Language</i> had inspired Tolkien as a schoolboy.<sup><a href="#cite_note-33">[30]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Courtship and marriage</h3>
<p>At the age of 16, Tolkien met <a href="/wiki/Edith_Tolkien">Edith Mary Bratt</a>, who was three years his senior, when he and his brother Hilary moved into the boarding house where she lived in Duchess Road, <a href="/wiki/Edgbaston">Edgbaston</a>. According to Humphrey Carpenter, "Edith and Ronald took to frequenting Birmingham teashops, especially one which had a balcony overlooking the pavement. There they would sit and throw sugarlumps into the hats of passers-by, moving to the next table when the sugar bowl was empty. ... With two people of their personalities and in their position, romance was bound to flourish. Both were orphans in need of affection, and they found that they could give it to each other. During the summer of 1909, they decided that they were in love."<sup><a href="#cite_note-34">[31]</a></sup>
</p><p>His guardian, Father Morgan, considered it "altogether unfortunate"<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup> that his surrogate son was romantically involved with an older, <a href="/wiki/Church_of_England">Protestant</a> woman; Tolkien wrote that the combined tensions contributed to his having "muffed [his] exams".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup> Morgan prohibited him from meeting, talking to, or even corresponding with Edith until he was 21. Tolkien obeyed this prohibition to the letter,<sup><a href="#cite_note-36">[32]</a></sup> with one notable early exception, over which Father Morgan threatened to cut short his university career if he did not stop.<sup><a href="#cite_note-37">[33]</a></sup>
</p><p>On the evening of his 21st birthday, Tolkien wrote to Edith, who was living with family friend C. H. Jessop at <a href="/wiki/Cheltenham">Cheltenham</a>. He declared that he had never ceased to love her, and asked her to marry him. Edith replied that she had already accepted the proposal of George Field, the brother of one of her closest school friends. But Edith said she had agreed to marry Field only because she felt "on the shelf" and had begun to doubt that Tolkien still cared for her. She explained that, because of Tolkien's letter, everything had changed.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Carpenter_1977_p67-38">[34]</a></sup>
</p><p>On 8 January 1913, Tolkien travelled by train to Cheltenham and was met on the platform by Edith. The two took a walk into the countryside, sat under a railway viaduct, and talked. By the end of the day, Edith had agreed to accept Tolkien's proposal. She wrote to Field and returned her engagement ring. Field was "dreadfully upset at first", and the Field family was "insulted and angry".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Carpenter_1977_p67-38">[34]</a></sup> Upon learning of Edith's new plans, Jessop wrote to her guardian, "I have nothing to say against Tolkien, he is a cultured gentleman, but his prospects are poor in the extreme, and when he will be in a position to marry I cannot imagine. Had he adopted a profession it would have been different."<sup><a href="#cite_note-39">[35]</a></sup>
</p><p>Following their engagement, Edith reluctantly announced that she was converting to Catholicism at Tolkien's insistence. Jessop, "like many others of his age and class ... strongly <a href="/wiki/Anti-Catholicism_in_the_United_Kingdom">anti-Catholic</a>", was infuriated, and he ordered Edith to find other lodgings.<sup><a href="#cite_note-40">[36]</a></sup>
</p><p>Edith Bratt and Ronald Tolkien were formally engaged at Birmingham in January 1913, and married at <a href="/wiki/St_Mary_Immaculate_Roman_Catholic_Church,_Warwick">St Mary Immaculate Catholic Church</a> at <a href="/wiki/Warwick">Warwick</a>, on 22 March 1916.<sup><a href="#cite_note-41">[37]</a></sup> In his 1941 letter to Michael, Tolkien expressed admiration for his wife's willingness to marry a man with no job, little money, and no prospects except the likelihood of being killed in the Great War.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>First World War</h3>
<p>In August 1914, Britain entered the <a href="/wiki/First_World_War">First World War</a>. Tolkien's relatives were shocked when he elected not to volunteer immediately for the <a href="/wiki/British_Army">British Army</a>. In a 1941 letter to his son Michael, Tolkien recalled: "In those days chaps joined up, or were scorned publicly. It was a nasty cleft to be in for a young man with too much imagination and little physical courage."<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup> Instead, Tolkien, "endured the <a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/obloquy">obloquy</a>",<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup> and entered a programme by which he delayed enlistment until completing his degree. By the time he passed his finals in July 1915, Tolkien recalled that the hints were "becoming outspoken from relatives".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup> He was commissioned as a temporary <a href="/wiki/Second_lieutenant">second lieutenant</a> in the <a href="/wiki/Lancashire_Fusiliers">Lancashire Fusiliers</a> on 15 July 1915.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Carpenter_1977_p77-42">[38]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-43">[39]</a></sup> He trained with the 13th (Reserve) Battalion on <a href="/wiki/Cannock_Chase">Cannock Chase</a>, Rugeley Camp near to <a href="/wiki/Rugeley">Rugeley</a>, <a href="/wiki/Staffordshire">Staffordshire</a>, for 11 months. In a letter to Edith, Tolkien complained: "Gentlemen are rare among the superiors, and even human beings rare indeed."<sup><a href="#cite_note-44">[40]</a></sup> Following their wedding, Lieutenant and Mrs. Tolkien took up lodgings near the training camp.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Carpenter_1977_p77-42">[38]</a></sup> On 2 June 1916, Tolkien received a telegram summoning him to <a href="/wiki/Folkestone">Folkestone</a> for posting to France. The Tolkiens spent the night before his departure in a room at the Plough &amp; Harrow Hotel in <a href="/wiki/Edgbaston">Edgbaston</a>, Birmingham.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Tolkien_Society_Memorials-45">[41]</a></sup> He later wrote: "Junior officers were being killed off, a dozen a minute. Parting from my wife then... it was like a death."<sup><a href="#cite_note-46">[42]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4>France</h4>
<p>On 5 June 1916, Tolkien boarded a troop transport for an overnight voyage to <a href="/wiki/Calais">Calais</a>. Like other soldiers arriving for the first time, he was sent to the <a href="/wiki/British_Expeditionary_Force_(World_War_I)">British Expeditionary Force</a>'s (BEF) base depot at <a href="/wiki/%C3%89taples">Étaples</a>. On 7 June, he was informed that he had been assigned as a signals officer to the 11th (Service) Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers. The battalion was part of the <a href="/wiki/74th_Brigade_(United_Kingdom)">74th Brigade</a>, <a href="/wiki/25th_Division_(United_Kingdom)">25th Division</a>. While waiting to be summoned to his unit, Tolkien sank into boredom. To pass the time, he composed a poem entitled <i>The Lonely Isle</i>, which was inspired by his feelings during the sea crossing to Calais. To evade the British Army's <a href="/wiki/Postal_censorship">postal censorship</a>, he developed a code of dots by which Edith could track his movements.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Garth144-47">[43]</a></sup> He left Étaples on 27 June 1916 and joined his battalion at <a href="/wiki/Rubempr%C3%A9">Rubempré</a>, near <a href="/wiki/Amiens">Amiens</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-48">[44]</a></sup> He found himself commanding enlisted men who were drawn mainly from the mining, milling, and weaving towns of Lancashire.<sup><a href="#cite_note-49">[45]</a></sup> According to <a href="/wiki/John_Garth_(author)">John Garth</a>, he "felt an affinity for these working class men", but military protocol prohibited friendships with "<a href="/wiki/Other_ranks_(UK)">other ranks</a>". Instead, he was required to "take charge of them, discipline them, train them, and probably censor their letters ... If possible, he was supposed to inspire their love and loyalty."<sup><a href="#cite_note-Garth149-50">[46]</a></sup> Tolkien later lamented, "The most improper job of any man ... is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity."<sup><a href="#cite_note-Garth149-50">[46]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4>Battle of the Somme</h4>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Schwaben_Redoubt_by_William_Orpen_IWM_Art.IWM_ART_3000.jpg"></a></p></div>
<p>Tolkien arrived at the <a href="/wiki/Battle_of_the_Somme">Somme</a> in early July 1916. In between terms behind the lines at <a href="/wiki/Bouzincourt">Bouzincourt</a>, he participated in the assaults on the <a href="/wiki/Schwaben_Redoubt">Schwaben Redoubt</a> and the <a href="/wiki/Leipzig_salient">Leipzig salient</a>. Tolkien's time in combat was a terrible stress for Edith, who feared that every knock on the door might carry news of her husband's death. Edith could track her husband's movements on a map of the <a href="/wiki/Western_Front_(World_War_I)">Western Front</a>. The Reverend Mervyn S. Evers, <a href="/wiki/Anglican">Anglican</a> chaplain to the Lancashire Fusiliers, recorded that Tolkien and his fellow officers were eaten by "hordes of lice" which found the Medical Officer's ointment merely "a kind of <i><a href="/wiki/Hors_d%27oeuvre">hors d'oeuvre</a></i> and the little beggars went at their feast with renewed vigour."<sup><a href="#cite_note-51">[47]</a></sup> On 27 October 1916, as his battalion attacked <a href="/wiki/Regina_Trench">Regina Trench</a>, Tolkien contracted <a href="/wiki/Trench_fever">trench fever</a>, a disease carried by <a href="/wiki/Lice">lice</a>. He was invalided to England on 8 November 1916.<sup><a href="#cite_note-52">[48]</a></sup> Many of his dearest school friends were killed in the war. Among their number were Rob Gilson of the Tea Club and Barrovian Society, who was killed on the <a href="/wiki/First_day_of_the_Somme">first day of the Somme</a> while leading his men in the assault on <a href="/wiki/Beaumont_Hamel">Beaumont Hamel</a>. Fellow T.C.B.S. member Geoffrey Smith was killed during the battle, when a German artillery shell landed on a first-aid post. Tolkien's battalion was almost completely wiped out following his return to England.<sup><a href="#cite_note-53">[49]</a></sup>
</p>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Lancashire_Fusiliers_trench_Beaumont_Hamel_1916.jpg"></a></p></div>
<p>According to John Garth, <a href="/wiki/Kitchener%27s_Army">Kitchener's Army</a>, in which Tolkien served, at once marked existing social boundaries and counteracted the class system by throwing everyone into a desperate situation together. Tolkien was grateful, writing that it had taught him "a deep sympathy and feeling for the <a href="/wiki/Tommy_Atkins">Tommy</a>; especially the plain soldier from the agricultural counties".<sup><a href="#cite_note-54">[50]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4>Home front</h4>
<p>A weak and emaciated Tolkien spent the remainder of the war alternating between hospitals and garrison duties, being deemed medically unfit for general service.<sup><a href="#cite_note-55">[51]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-56">[52]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-57">[53]</a></sup> During his recovery in a cottage in <a href="/wiki/Little_Haywood">Little Haywood</a>, <a href="/wiki/Staffordshire,_England">Staffordshire</a>, he began to work on what he called <i><a href="/wiki/The_Book_of_Lost_Tales">The Book of Lost Tales</a></i>, beginning with <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fall_of_Gondolin">The Fall of Gondolin</a></i>. <i>Lost Tales</i> represented Tolkien's attempt to create a mythology for England, a project he would abandon without ever completing.<sup><a href="#cite_note-58">[54]</a></sup> Throughout 1917 and 1918 his illness kept recurring, but he had recovered enough to do home service at various camps. It was at this time that Edith bore their first child, John Francis Reuel Tolkien. In a 1941 letter, Tolkien described his son John as "(conceived and carried during the starvation-year of 1917 and the great <a href="/wiki/U-boat_Campaign_(World_War_I)">U-Boat campaign</a>) round about the <a href="/wiki/Battle_of_Cambrai_(1917)">Battle of Cambrai</a>, when the end of the war seemed as far off as it does now".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup> Tolkien was promoted to the temporary rank of lieutenant on 6 January 1918.<sup><a href="#cite_note-59">[55]</a></sup> When he was stationed at <a href="/wiki/Kingston_upon_Hull">Kingston upon Hull</a>, he and Edith went walking in the woods at nearby <a href="/wiki/Roos">Roos</a>, and Edith began to dance for him in a clearing among the flowering hemlock. After his wife's death in 1971, Tolkien remembered,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letter_340-60">[T 4]</a></sup>
</p>
<blockquote><p>I never called Edith <i>Luthien</i>—but she was the source of the story that in time became the chief part of the <i>Silmarillion</i>. It was first conceived in a small woodland glade filled with hemlocks<sup><a href="#cite_note-61">[56]</a></sup> at Roos in Yorkshire (where I was for a brief time in command of an outpost of the Humber Garrison in 1917, and she was able to live with me for a while). In those days her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes brighter than you have seen them, and she could sing—and <i>dance</i>. But the story has gone crooked, &amp; I am left, and <i>I</i> cannot plead before the inexorable <a href="/wiki/Mandos">Mandos</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letter_340-60">[T 4]</a></sup></p></blockquote>
<p>On 16 July 1919, Tolkien was taken off active service, at Fovant, on Salisbury Plain, with a temporary disability pension.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Grotta_p._58-62">[57]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Academic and writing career</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:2_Darnley_Road,_the_former_home_of_J.R.R._Tolkien_in_West_Park,_Leeds.jpg"></a></p><div><p>2 Darnley Road, the former home of Tolkien in West Park, <a href="/wiki/Leeds">Leeds</a></p></div></div>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:20_Northmoor_Road,_Oxford.JPG"></a></p></div>
<p>On 3 November 1920, Tolkien was demobilized and left the army, retaining his rank of lieutenant.<sup><a href="#cite_note-63">[58]</a></sup> His first civilian job after World War I was at the <i><a href="/wiki/Oxford_English_Dictionary">Oxford English Dictionary</a></i>, where he worked mainly on the history and etymology of words of Germanic origin beginning with the letter <i>W</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-64">[59]</a></sup> In 1920, he took up a post as <a href="/wiki/Reader_(academic_rank)">reader</a> in English language at the <a href="/wiki/University_of_Leeds">University of Leeds</a>, becoming the youngest member of the <a href="/wiki/Academic_staff">academic staff</a> there.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Grotta2001_page_64_ff-65">[60]</a></sup> While at Leeds, he produced <i>A Middle English Vocabulary</i> and a definitive edition of <i><a href="/wiki/Sir_Gawain_and_the_Green_Knight">Sir Gawain and the Green Knight</a></i> with <a href="/wiki/E._V._Gordon">E. V. Gordon</a>; both became academic standard works for several decades. He translated <i>Sir Gawain</i>, <i><a href="/wiki/Pearl_(poem)">Pearl</a></i>, and <i><a href="/wiki/Sir_Orfeo">Sir Orfeo</a></i>. In 1925, he returned to Oxford as <a href="/wiki/Rawlinson_and_Bosworth_Professor_of_Anglo-Saxon">Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon</a>, with a fellowship at <a href="/wiki/Pembroke_College,_Oxford">Pembroke College</a>.<sup>[<i><a href="/wiki/Wikipedia:Citation_needed">citation needed</a></i>]</sup>
</p><p>In mid-1919, he began to tutor undergraduates privately, most importantly those of <a href="/wiki/Lady_Margaret_Hall,_Oxford">Lady Margaret Hall</a> and <a href="/wiki/St_Hugh%27s_College,_Oxford">St Hugh's College</a>, given that the women's colleges were in great need of good teachers in their early years, and Tolkien as a married professor (then still not common) was considered suitable, as a bachelor don would not have been.<sup><a href="#cite_note-66">[61]</a></sup>
</p><p>During his time at Pembroke College Tolkien wrote <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i> and the first two volumes of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, while living at 20 <a href="/wiki/Northmoor_Road">Northmoor Road</a> in <a href="/wiki/North_Oxford">North Oxford</a>. He also published a philological essay in 1932 on the name "<a href="/wiki/Nodens">Nodens</a>", following Sir <a href="/wiki/Mortimer_Wheeler">Mortimer Wheeler</a>'s unearthing of a <a href="/wiki/Ancient_Rome">Roman</a> <a href="/wiki/Asclepeion">Asclepeion</a> at <a href="/wiki/Lydney_Park">Lydney Park</a>, Gloucestershire, in 1928.<sup><a href="#cite_note-67">[62]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4><i>Beowulf</i></h4>
<p>In the 1920s, Tolkien undertook a translation of <i><a href="/wiki/Beowulf">Beowulf</a></i>, which he finished in 1926, but did not publish. It was finally edited by his son and published in 2014, more than 40 years after Tolkien's death and almost 90 years after its completion.<sup><a href="#cite_note-68">[63]</a></sup>
</p><p>Ten years after finishing his translation, Tolkien gave a highly acclaimed lecture on the work, "<a href="/wiki/Beowulf:_The_Monsters_and_the_Critics"><i>Beowulf</i>: The Monsters and the Critics</a>", which had a lasting influence on <i>Beowulf</i> research.<sup><a href="#cite_note-69">[64]</a></sup> Lewis E. Nicholson said that the article is "widely recognized as a turning point in Beowulfian criticism", noting that Tolkien established the primacy of the poetic nature of the work as opposed to its purely linguistic elements.<sup><a href="#cite_note-70">[65]</a></sup> At the time, the consensus of scholarship deprecated <i>Beowulf</i> for dealing with childish battles with monsters rather than realistic tribal warfare; Tolkien argued that the author of <i>Beowulf</i> was addressing human destiny in general, not as limited by particular tribal politics, and therefore the monsters were essential to the poem.<sup><a href="#cite_note-71">[66]</a></sup> Where <i>Beowulf</i> does deal with specific tribal struggles, as at <a href="/wiki/Finnsburg">Finnsburg</a>, Tolkien argued firmly against reading in fantastic elements.<sup><a href="#cite_note-72">[67]</a></sup> In the essay, Tolkien also revealed how highly he regarded <i>Beowulf</i>: "Beowulf is among my most valued sources"; <a href="/wiki/Beowulf_and_Middle-earth">this influence may be seen</a> throughout his <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a> <a href="/wiki/Legendarium">legendarium</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-73">[68]</a></sup>
</p><p>According to <a href="/wiki/Humphrey_Carpenter">Humphrey Carpenter</a>, Tolkien began his series of lectures on <i>Beowulf</i> in a most striking way, entering the room silently, fixing the audience with a look, and suddenly declaiming in Old English the opening lines of the poem, starting "with a great cry of <i><a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/hw%C3%A6t">Hwæt</a>!</i>" It was a dramatic impersonation of an Anglo-Saxon bard in a mead hall, and it made the students realize that <i>Beowulf</i> was not just a set text but "a powerful piece of dramatic poetry".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Biog_p133-74">[69]</a></sup> Decades later, <a href="/wiki/W._H._Auden">W. H. Auden</a> wrote to his former professor, thanking him for the "unforgettable experience" of hearing him recite <i>Beowulf</i>, and stating "The voice was the voice of <a href="/wiki/Gandalf">Gandalf</a>".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Biog_p133-74">[69]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4>Second World War</h4>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:UK-2014-Oxford-Merton_College_05.JPG"></a></p><div><p><a href="/wiki/Merton_College">Merton College</a>, where Tolkien was Professor of English Language and Literature (1945–1959)</p></div></div>
<p>In the run-up to the <a href="/wiki/Second_World_War">Second World War</a>, Tolkien was earmarked as a <a href="/wiki/Cryptanalysis">codebreaker</a>. In January 1939, he was asked to serve in the <a href="/wiki/Cryptography">cryptographic</a> department of the Foreign Office in the event of national emergency. Beginning on 27 March, he took an instructional course at the London HQ of the <a href="/wiki/Government_Code_and_Cypher_School">Government Code and Cypher School</a>. He was informed in October that his services would not be required.<sup><a href="#cite_note-75">[70]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-spy1-76">[T 5]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-spy3-77">[71]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 1945, Tolkien moved to <a href="/wiki/Merton_College,_Oxford">Merton College, Oxford</a>, becoming the <a href="/wiki/Merton_Professors">Merton Professor of English Language and Literature</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Grotta2001_page_110_ff-78">[72]</a></sup> in which post he remained until his retirement in 1959. He served as an external examiner for <a href="/wiki/University_College,_Galway">University College, Galway</a> (now NUI Galway), for many years.<sup><a href="#cite_note-79">[73]</a></sup> In 1954 Tolkien received an honorary degree from the <a href="/wiki/National_University_of_Ireland">National University of Ireland</a> (of which University College, Galway, was a constituent college).<sup><a href="#cite_note-80">[74]</a></sup> Tolkien completed <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> in 1948, close to a decade after the first sketches.<sup><a href="#cite_note-81">[75]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Family</h3>
<p>The Tolkiens had four children: <a href="/wiki/John_Francis_Reuel_Tolkien">John Francis Reuel Tolkien</a> (17 November 1917 – 22 January 2003), Michael Hilary Reuel Tolkien (22 October 1920 – 27 February 1984), <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher John Reuel Tolkien</a> (21 November 1924 – 16 January 2020) and Priscilla Mary Anne Reuel Tolkien (18 June 1929 – 28 February 2022).<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTELee202012–15-82">[76]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-83">[77]</a></sup> Tolkien was very devoted to his children and sent them illustrated <a href="/wiki/The_Father_Christmas_Letters">letters from Father Christmas</a> when they were young.<sup><a href="#cite_note-84">[78]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Retirement</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Oxford_Tolkien.JPG"></a></p></div>
<p>During his life in retirement, from 1959 up to his death in 1973, Tolkien received steadily increasing public attention and literary fame. In 1961, his friend <a href="/wiki/C._S._Lewis">C. S. Lewis</a> even nominated him for the <a href="/wiki/Nobel_Prize_in_Literature">Nobel Prize in Literature</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-85">[79]</a></sup> The sales of his books were so profitable that he regretted that he had not chosen early retirement.<sup><a href="#cite_note-DoughanBio-16">[15]</a></sup> In a 1972 letter, he deplored having become a <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_fandom">cult-figure</a>, but admitted that "even the nose of a very modest idol ... cannot remain entirely untickled by the sweet smell of incense!"<sup><a href="#cite_note-86">[T 6]</a></sup>
</p><p>Fan attention became so intense that Tolkien had to take his phone number out of the public directory,<sup><a href="#cite_note-87">[T 7]</a></sup> and eventually he and Edith moved to <a href="/wiki/Bournemouth">Bournemouth</a>, which was then a seaside resort patronized by the British upper middle class. Tolkien's status as a best-selling author gave them easy entry into polite society, but Tolkien deeply missed the company of his fellow <a href="/wiki/Inklings">Inklings</a>. Edith, however, was overjoyed to step into the role of a society hostess, which had been the reason that Tolkien selected Bournemouth in the first place. The genuine and deep affection between Ronald and Edith was demonstrated by their care about the other's health, in details like wrapping presents, in the generous way he gave up his life at Oxford so she could retire to Bournemouth, and in her pride in his becoming a famous author. They were tied together, too, by love for their children and grandchildren.<sup><a href="#cite_note-88">[80]</a></sup>
</p><p>In his retirement Tolkien was a consultant and translator for <i><a href="/wiki/The_Jerusalem_Bible">The Jerusalem Bible</a></i>, published in 1966. He was initially assigned a larger portion to translate, but, due to other commitments, only managed to offer some criticisms of other contributors and a translation of the <a href="/wiki/Book_of_Jonah">Book of Jonah</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-89">[T 8]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Final years</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Tolkien%27s_grave,_Wolvercote_Cemetery.jpg"></a></p></div>
<p>Edith died on 29 November 1971, at the age of 82. Ronald returned to Oxford, where <a href="/wiki/Merton_College">Merton College</a> gave him convenient rooms near the High Street. He missed Edith, but enjoyed being back in the city.<sup><a href="#cite_note-SimonTolkien-90">[81]</a></sup>
</p><p>Tolkien was made a Commander of the <a href="/wiki/Order_of_the_British_Empire">Order of the British Empire</a> in the <a href="/wiki/1972_New_Year_Honours">1972 New Year Honours</a><sup><a href="#cite_note-91">[82]</a></sup> and received the insignia of the Order at <a href="/wiki/Buckingham_Palace">Buckingham Palace</a> on 28 March 1972.<sup><a href="#cite_note-92">[T 9]</a></sup> In the same year Oxford University gave him an honorary <a href="/wiki/Doctor_of_Letters">Doctorate of Letters</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-RoyalMail-32">[29]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-93">[83]</a></sup>
</p><p>He had the name <a href="/wiki/L%C3%BAthien">Luthien</a> [<i><a href="/wiki/Sic">sic</a></i>] engraved on Edith's tombstone at <a href="/wiki/Wolvercote_Cemetery">Wolvercote Cemetery</a>, <a href="/wiki/Oxford">Oxford</a>. When Tolkien died 21 months later on 2 September 1973 from a bleeding ulcer and chest infection,<sup><a href="#cite_note-94">[84]</a></sup> at the age of 81,<sup><a href="#cite_note-NYTimes_obit-95">[85]</a></sup> he was buried in the same grave, with "<a href="/wiki/Beren">Beren</a>" added to his name. Tolkien's will was proven on 20 December 1973, with his estate valued at £190,577 (equivalent to £2,452,000 in 2021).<sup><a href="#cite_note-inflation-UK-96">[86]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-probate-97">[87]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Views</h2>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Eagle_and_Child_(interior).jpg"></a></p></div>
<h3>Religion</h3>
<p>Tolkien's <a href="/wiki/Catholicism">Catholicism</a> was a significant factor in <a href="/wiki/C._S._Lewis">C. S. Lewis</a>'s conversion from <a href="/wiki/Atheism">atheism</a> to Christianity, although Tolkien was dismayed that Lewis chose to join the <a href="/wiki/Church_of_England">Church of England</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-CSL-98">[88]</a></sup> He once wrote to <a href="/wiki/Rayner_Unwin">Rayner Unwin</a>'s daughter Camilla, who wished to know the purpose of life, that it was "to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks."<sup><a href="#cite_note-99">[89]</a></sup> He had a special devotion to the <a href="/wiki/Eucharist_in_the_Catholic_Church">blessed sacrament</a>, writing to his son Michael that in "the Blessed Sacrament ... you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth, and more than that".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters,_No._43-35">[T 3]</a></sup> He accordingly encouraged frequent reception of Holy Communion, again writing to his son Michael that "the only cure for sagging of fainting faith is Communion." He believed the Catholic Church to be true most of all because of the pride of place and the honour in which it holds the Blessed Sacrament.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letter_250-100">[T 10]</a></sup> In the last years of his life, Tolkien <a href="/wiki/Traditionalist_Catholicism">resisted the liturgical changes</a> implemented after the <a href="/wiki/Second_Vatican_Council">Second Vatican Council</a>, especially the use of English for the liturgy; he continued to make the responses in Latin, loudly, ignoring the rest of the congregation.<sup><a href="#cite_note-SimonTolkien-90">[81]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Race</h3>
<p>Tolkien's fantasy writings have often been accused of embodying outmoded attitudes to race.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Yatt-101">[90]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-102">[91]</a></sup> However, scholars have noted that he was influenced by Victorian attitudes to race and to a literary tradition of monsters, and that he was anti-<a href="/wiki/Racist">racist</a> both in peacetime and during the two World Wars. With the late 19th century background of <a href="/wiki/Eugenics">eugenics</a> and a fear of moral decline, some critics saw the mention of <a href="/wiki/Race_mixing">race mixing</a> in <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> as embodying <a href="/wiki/Scientific_racism">scientific racism</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Rogers_2000-103">[92]</a></sup> Other commentators saw in Tolkien's <a href="/wiki/Orc">orcs</a> a reflection of wartime <a href="/wiki/Propaganda">propaganda</a> caricatures of the Japanese.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Ibata_Chicago_Tribune_2003-104">[93]</a></sup> Critics have noted, too, that the work embodies a <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_moral_geography">moral geography</a>, with good in the West, evil in the East.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Magoun_2006-105">[94]</a></sup> Against this, scholars have noted that Tolkien was outraged in peacetime by <a href="/wiki/Nazi_racial_theories">Nazi racial theory</a>, while during the <a href="/wiki/Second_World_War">Second World War</a> he was equally disgusted by <a href="/wiki/Anti-German_sentiment">anti-German</a> racial propaganda.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Rearick_2004-106">[95]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Power_2018-107">[96]</a></sup> Other scholars have stated that Tolkien's Middle-earth is definitely polycultural and polylingual, and that attacks on Tolkien based on <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> often omit relevant evidence from the text.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Straubhaar_2004-108">[97]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-109">[98]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Nature</h3>
<p>During most of his own life <a href="/wiki/Conservationism">conservationism</a> was not yet on the political agenda, and Tolkien himself did not directly express conservationist views—except in some private letters, in which he tells about his fondness for forests and sadness at tree-felling. In later years, a number of authors of biographies or literary analyses of Tolkien conclude that during his writing of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, Tolkien gained increased interest in the value of wild and untamed nature, and in protecting what wild nature was left in the industrialized world.<sup><a href="#cite_note-110">[99]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-111">[100]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-112">[101]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Writing</h2>
<h3>Influences</h3>
<p>Tolkien's fantasy books on Middle-earth, especially <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and <i>The Silmarillion</i>, drew on a wide array of influences including his <a href="/wiki/Philology">philological</a> interest in language,<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEShippey200548–49_and_throughout-113">[102]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Christianity">Christianity</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-114">[103]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-115">[104]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Medievalism">medievalism</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Yolen-116">[105]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Mythology">mythology</a>, <a href="/wiki/Archaeology">archaeology</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEShippey200540–41-117">[106]</a></sup> ancient and modern literature, and personal experience. His philological work centred on the study of <a href="/wiki/Old_English">Old English</a> literature, especially <i><a href="/wiki/Beowulf">Beowulf</a></i>, and he acknowledged its importance to his writings.<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEShippey2005104,_190–197,_217_and_throughout-118">[107]</a></sup> He was a gifted linguist, influenced by Germanic,<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEShippey200566–74_and_throughout-119">[108]</a></sup> Celtic,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Fimi-120">[109]</a></sup> Finnish,<sup><a href="#cite_note-121">[110]</a></sup> and Greek<sup><a href="#cite_note-Purtill_2003-122">[111]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-123">[112]</a></sup> language and mythology. Commentators have attempted to identify many literary and topological antecedents for characters, places and events in Tolkien's writings. Some writers were important to him, including the <a href="/wiki/Arts_and_Crafts">Arts and Crafts</a> polymath <a href="/wiki/William_Morris">William Morris</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-124">[113]</a></sup> and he undoubtedly made use of some real place-names, such as Bag End, the name of his aunt's home.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Morton_2009-125">[114]</a></sup> He acknowledged, too, <a href="/wiki/John_Buchan">John Buchan</a> and <a href="/wiki/H._Rider_Haggard">H. Rider Haggard</a>, authors of modern adventure stories that he enjoyed.<sup><a href="#cite_note-126">[115]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-127">[116]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-128">[117]</a></sup> The effects of some specific experiences have been identified. Tolkien's childhood in the English countryside, and its urbanization by the growth of <a href="/wiki/Birmingham">Birmingham</a>, influenced his creation of <a href="/wiki/The_Shire">the Shire</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977180-129">[118]</a></sup> while his personal experience of <a href="/wiki/Trench_warfare">fighting in the trenches</a> of the <a href="/wiki/First_World_War">First World War</a> affected his depiction of <a href="/wiki/Mordor">Mordor</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Ciabattari_BBC_2014-130">[119]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Publications</h3>
<h4>"<i>Beowulf</i>: The Monsters and the Critics"</h4>
<p>In addition to writing fiction, Tolkien was an author of academic literary criticism. His seminal 1936 lecture, later published as an article, revolutionized the treatment of the Anglo-Saxon epic <i><a href="/wiki/Beowulf">Beowulf</a></i> by literary critics. The essay remains highly influential in the study of Old English literature to this day.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Niles-131">[120]</a></sup> <i>Beowulf</i> is one of the <a href="/wiki/Beowulf_in_Middle-earth">most significant influences upon Tolkien's later fiction</a>, with major details of both <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> being adapted from the poem.<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEShippey200566–74-132">[121]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4>"On Fairy-Stories"</h4>
<p>This essay discusses the fairy-story as a literary form. It was initially written as the 1939 Andrew Lang Lecture at the University of St Andrews, Scotland. Tolkien focuses on <a href="/wiki/Andrew_Lang">Andrew Lang</a>'s work as a folklorist and collector of fairy tales. He disagreed with Lang's broad inclusion, in his <a href="/wiki/Lang%27s_Fairy_Books">Fairy Book</a> collections, of traveller's tales, beast fables, and other types of stories. Tolkien held a narrower perspective, viewing fairy stories as those that took place in <a href="/wiki/Fairyland">Faerie</a>, an enchanted realm, with or without fairies as characters. He viewed them as the natural development of the interaction of human imagination and human language.<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEShippey200556–57-133">[122]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4>Children's books and other short works</h4>
<p>In addition to his <a href="/wiki/Mythopoeia">mythopoeic</a> compositions, Tolkien enjoyed inventing fantasy stories to entertain his children.<sup><a href="#cite_note-134">[123]</a></sup> He wrote annual Christmas letters from <a href="/wiki/Father_Christmas">Father Christmas</a> for them, building up a series of short stories (later compiled and published as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Father_Christmas_Letters">The Father Christmas Letters</a></i>).<sup><a href="#cite_note-travels-135">[124]</a></sup> Other works included <i><a href="/wiki/Mr._Bliss">Mr. Bliss</a></i> and <i><a href="/wiki/Roverandom">Roverandom</a></i> (for children), and <i><a href="/wiki/Leaf_by_Niggle">Leaf by Niggle</a></i> (part of <i><a href="/wiki/Tree_and_Leaf">Tree and Leaf</a></i>), <i><a href="/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tom_Bombadil">The Adventures of Tom Bombadil</a></i>, <i><a href="/wiki/Smith_of_Wootton_Major">Smith of Wootton Major</a></i> and <i><a href="/wiki/Farmer_Giles_of_Ham">Farmer Giles of Ham</a></i>. <i>Roverandom</i> and <i>Smith of Wootton Major</i>, like <i>The Hobbit</i>, borrowed ideas from his legendarium.<sup><a href="#cite_note-A_Companion_to_J._R._R._Tolkien_ch13-136">[125]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4><i>The Hobbit</i></h4>
<p>Tolkien never expected his stories to become popular, but by sheer accident a book called <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i>, which he had written some years before for his own children, came in 1936 to the attention of Susan Dagnall, an employee of the London publishing firm <a href="/wiki/George_Allen_%26_Unwin">George Allen &amp; Unwin</a>, who persuaded Tolkien to submit it for publication.<sup><a href="#cite_note-NYTimes_obit-95">[85]</a></sup> When it was published a year later, the book attracted adult readers as well as children, and it became popular enough for the publishers to ask Tolkien to produce a sequel.<sup><a href="#cite_note-137">[126]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4><i>The Lord of the Rings</i></h4>
<p>The request for a sequel prompted Tolkien to begin what became his most famous work: the epic novel <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings">The Lord of the Rings</a></i> (originally published in three volumes in 1954–1955). Tolkien spent more than ten years writing the primary narrative and appendices for <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, during which time he received the constant support of the <a href="/wiki/Inklings">Inklings</a>, in particular his closest friend <a href="/wiki/C._S._Lewis">C. S. Lewis</a>, the author of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Chronicles_of_Narnia">The Chronicles of Narnia</a></i>. Both <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> are set against the background of <i>The Silmarillion</i>, but in a time long after it.<sup><a href="#cite_note-The_New_Hobbit-138">[127]</a></sup>
</p><p>Tolkien at first intended <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> to be a children's tale in the style of <i>The Hobbit</i>, but it quickly grew darker and more serious in the writing.<sup><a href="#cite_note-139">[128]</a></sup> Though a direct sequel to <i>The Hobbit</i>, it addressed an older audience, drawing on the immense <a href="/wiki/Backstory">backstory</a> of <a href="/wiki/Beleriand">Beleriand</a> that Tolkien had constructed in previous years, and which eventually saw posthumous publication in <i>The Silmarillion</i> and other volumes.<sup><a href="#cite_note-The_New_Hobbit-138">[127]</a></sup> Tolkien strongly influenced the <a href="/wiki/Fantasy_fiction">fantasy</a> genre that grew up after the book's success.<sup><a href="#cite_note-140">[129]</a></sup>
</p><p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> became immensely popular in the 1960s and has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the 20th century, judged by both sales and reader surveys.<sup><a href="#cite_note-141">[130]</a></sup> In the 2003 "<a href="/wiki/Big_Read">Big Read</a>" survey conducted by the BBC, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was found to be the UK's "Best-loved Novel".<sup><a href="#cite_note-142">[131]</a></sup> Australians voted <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> "My Favourite Book" in a 2004 survey conducted by the <a href="/wiki/Australian_Broadcasting_Corporation">Australian ABC</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-143">[132]</a></sup> In a 1999 poll of <a href="/wiki/Amazon.com">Amazon.com</a> customers, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium".<sup><a href="#cite_note-144">[133]</a></sup> In 2002 Tolkien was voted the 92nd "<a href="/wiki/100_Greatest_Britons">greatest Briton</a>" in a poll conducted by the BBC, and in 2004 he was voted 35th in the <a href="/wiki/SABC3%27s_Great_South_Africans">SABC3's Great South Africans</a>, the only person to appear in both lists. His popularity is not limited to the English-speaking world: in a 2004 poll inspired by the UK's "Big Read" survey, about 250,000 Germans found <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> to be their favourite work of literature.<sup><a href="#cite_note-145">[134]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4><i>The Silmarillion</i></h4>
<p>Tolkien wrote a brief "Sketch of the Mythology", which included the tales of Beren and Lúthien and of Túrin; and that sketch eventually evolved into the <i><a href="/wiki/Quenta_Silmarillion">Quenta Silmarillion</a></i>, an epic history that Tolkien started three times but never published. Tolkien desperately hoped to publish it along with <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, but publishers (both <a href="/wiki/Allen_%26_Unwin">Allen &amp; Unwin</a> and <a href="/wiki/HarperCollins">Collins</a>) declined. Moreover, printing costs were very high in 1950s Britain, requiring <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> to be published in three volumes.<sup><a href="#cite_note-146">[135]</a></sup> The story of this continuous redrafting is told in the posthumous series <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_Middle-earth">The History of Middle-earth</a></i>, edited by Tolkien's son, Christopher Tolkien. From around 1936, Tolkien began to extend this framework to include the tale of <i>The Fall of <a href="/wiki/N%C3%BAmenor">Númenor</a></i>, which was inspired by the legend of <a href="/wiki/Atlantis">Atlantis</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-147">[136]</a></sup>
</p><p>Tolkien appointed his son Christopher to be his <a href="/wiki/Literary_executor">literary executor</a>, and he (with assistance from <a href="/wiki/Guy_Gavriel_Kay">Guy Gavriel Kay</a>, later a well-known fantasy author in his own right) organized some of this material into a single coherent volume, published as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i> in 1977. It received the Locus Award for Best Fantasy novel in 1978.<sup><a href="#cite_note-WWE-1978-148">[137]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4><i>Unfinished Tales</i> and <i>The History of Middle-earth</i></h4>
<p>In 1980, Christopher Tolkien published a collection of more fragmentary material, under the title <i><a href="/wiki/Unfinished_Tales_of_N%C3%BAmenor_and_Middle-earth">Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth</a></i>. In subsequent years (1983–1996), he published a large amount of the remaining unpublished materials, together with notes and extensive commentary, in a series of twelve volumes called <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_Middle-earth">The History of Middle-earth</a></i>. They contain unfinished, abandoned, alternative, and outright contradictory accounts, since they were always a work in progress for Tolkien and he only rarely settled on a definitive version for any of the stories. There is not complete consistency between <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and <i>The Hobbit</i>, the two most closely related works, because Tolkien never fully integrated all their traditions into each other. He commented in 1965, while editing <i>The Hobbit</i> for a third edition, that he would have preferred to rewrite the book completely because of the style of its prose.<sup><a href="#cite_note-149">[138]</a></sup>
</p>
<h4>Works compiled by Christopher Tolkien</h4>
<table>
<tbody><tr>
<th>Date</th>
<th>Title</th>
<th>Description
</th></tr>
<tr>
<td>2007</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Children_of_H%C3%BArin">The Children of Húrin</a></i></td>
<td>tells the story of <a href="/wiki/T%C3%BArin_Turambar">Túrin Turambar</a> and his sister <a href="/wiki/Nienor">Nienor</a>, children of <a href="/wiki/H%C3%BArin_Thalion">Húrin Thalion</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-150">[139]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>2009</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Legend_of_Sigurd_and_Gudr%C3%BAn">The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún</a></i></td>
<td>retells the legend of <a href="/wiki/Sigurd">Sigurd</a> and the fall of the <a href="/wiki/Niflungs">Niflungs</a> from Germanic mythology as a <a href="/wiki/Narrative_poem">narrative poem</a> in <a href="/wiki/Alliterative_verse">alliterative verse</a>, modelled after the <a href="/wiki/Old_Norse">Old Norse</a> poetry of the <a href="/wiki/Elder_Edda">Elder Edda</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-151">[140]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>2013</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Fall_of_Arthur">The Fall of Arthur</a></i></td>
<td>is a narrative poem that Tolkien composed in the early 1930s, inspired by high medieval Arthurian fiction but set in the Post-Roman <a href="/wiki/Migration_Period">Migration Period</a>, showing Arthur as a <a href="/wiki/Sub-Roman_Britain">British</a> <a href="/wiki/Warlord">warlord</a> fighting the <a href="/wiki/Anglo-Saxon_invasion_of_Britain">Saxon invasion</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-152">[141]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>2014</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/Beowulf:_A_Translation_and_Commentary">Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary</a></i></td>
<td>is a prose translation of <i><a href="/wiki/Beowulf">Beowulf</a></i> that Tolkien made in the 1920s, with commentary from Tolkien's lecture notes.<sup><a href="#cite_note-153">[142]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-154">[143]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>2015</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Story_of_Kullervo">The Story of Kullervo</a></i></td>
<td>is a retelling of a 19th-century Finnish poem that Tolkien wrote in 1915 while studying at Oxford.<sup><a href="#cite_note-155">[144]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>2017</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/Beren_and_L%C3%BAthien">Beren and Lúthien</a></i></td>
<td>is one of the oldest and most often revised in Tolkien's legendarium; a version appeared in <i>The Silmarillion</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-edition2017-156">[145]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>2018</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Fall_of_Gondolin">The Fall of Gondolin</a></i></td>
<td>tells of a beautiful, mysterious city destroyed by dark forces; Tolkien called it "the first real story" of <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-TolkienSociety2-157">[146]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-158">[147]</a></sup>
</td></tr></tbody></table>
<h3>Manuscript locations</h3>
<p>Before his death, Tolkien negotiated the sale of the manuscripts, drafts, proofs and other materials related to his then-published works—including <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>Farmer Giles of Ham</i>—to the Department of Special Collections and University Archives at <a href="/wiki/Marquette_University">Marquette University</a>'s John P. Raynor, S.J., Library in <a href="/wiki/Milwaukee,_Wisconsin">Milwaukee</a>, Wisconsin.<sup><a href="#cite_note-159">[148]</a></sup> After his death his estate donated the papers containing Tolkien's <i>Silmarillion</i> mythology and his academic work to the <a href="/wiki/Bodleian_Library">Bodleian Library</a> at <a href="/wiki/Oxford_University">Oxford University</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-160">[149]</a></sup> The Bodleian Library held an exhibition of his work in 2018, including more than 60 items which had never been seen in public before.<sup><a href="#cite_note-161">[150]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 2009, a partial draft of <i><a href="/wiki/Language_and_Human_Nature">Language and Human Nature</a></i>, which Tolkien had begun co-writing with <a href="/wiki/C._S._Lewis">C. S. Lewis</a> but had never completed, was discovered at the Bodleian Library.<sup><a href="#cite_note-162">[151]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Languages and philology</h2>
<h3>Linguistic career</h3>
<p>Both Tolkien's academic career and his literary production are inseparable from his love of language and <a href="/wiki/Philology">philology</a>. He specialized in English philology at university and in 1915 graduated with <a href="/wiki/Old_Norse">Old Norse</a> as his special subject. He worked on the <i><a href="/wiki/Oxford_English_Dictionary">Oxford English Dictionary</a></i> from 1918 and is credited with having worked on a number of words starting with the letter W, including <i><a href="/wiki/Walrus">walrus</a></i>, over which he struggled mightily.<sup><a href="#cite_note-163">[152]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-164">[153]</a></sup> In 1920, he became Reader in English Language at the <a href="/wiki/University_of_Leeds">University of Leeds</a>, where he claimed credit for raising the number of students of <a href="/wiki/Linguistics">linguistics</a> from five to twenty. He gave courses in Old English <a href="/wiki/Heroic_verse">heroic verse</a>, <a href="/wiki/History_of_English">history of English</a>, various <a href="/wiki/Old_English">Old English</a> and <a href="/wiki/Middle_English">Middle English</a> texts, Old and Middle English philology, introductory <a href="/wiki/Germanic_languages">Germanic</a> philology, <a href="/wiki/Gothic_language">Gothic</a>, <a href="/wiki/Old_Icelandic">Old Icelandic</a>, and <a href="/wiki/Middle_Welsh_language">Medieval Welsh</a>. When in 1925, aged thirty-three, Tolkien applied for the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon at <a href="/wiki/Pembroke_College,_Oxford">Pembroke College, Oxford</a>, he boasted that his students of Germanic philology in Leeds had even formed a "<a href="/wiki/Viking_revival">Viking Club</a>".<sup><a href="#cite_note-165">[T 11]</a></sup> He also had a certain, if imperfect, knowledge of <a href="/wiki/Finnish_language">Finnish</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-166">[154]</a></sup>
</p><p>Privately, Tolkien was attracted to "things of <a href="/wiki/Race_(classification_of_human_beings)">racial</a> and linguistic significance", and in his 1955 lecture <i><a href="/wiki/English_and_Welsh">English and Welsh</a></i>, which is crucial to his understanding of race and language, he entertained notions of "inherent linguistic predilections", which he termed the "native language" as opposed to the "cradle-tongue" which a person first learns to speak.<sup><a href="#cite_note-167">[155]</a></sup> He considered the <a href="/wiki/West_Midlands_(region)">West Midlands</a> dialect of Middle English to be his own "native language", and, as he wrote to <a href="/wiki/W._H._Auden">W. H. Auden</a> in 1955, "I am a West-midlander by blood (and took to early west-midland Middle English as a known tongue as soon as I set eyes on it)."<sup><a href="#cite_note-168">[T 12]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Language construction</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Quenya_Example.svg"></a></p><div><p><i>Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees!</i>, the beginning of the Quenya poem <a href="/wiki/Nam%C3%A1ri%C3%AB">Namárië</a> written in <a href="/wiki/Tengwar">Tengwar</a> and in <a href="/wiki/Latin_alphabet">Latin</a> script</p></div></div>
<p>Parallel to Tolkien's professional work as a philologist, and sometimes overshadowing this work, to the effect that his academic output remained rather thin, was his affection for <a href="/wiki/Constructed_languages">constructing languages</a>. The most developed of these are <a href="/wiki/Quenya">Quenya</a> and <a href="/wiki/Sindarin">Sindarin</a>, the etymological connection between which formed the core of much of Tolkien's <i>legendarium</i>. Language and grammar for Tolkien was a matter of <a href="/wiki/Aesthetics">aesthetics</a> and <a href="/wiki/Euphony">euphony</a>, and Quenya in particular was designed from "phonaesthetic" considerations; it was intended as an "Elven-latin", and was phonologically based on Latin, with ingredients from Finnish, Welsh, English, and Greek.<sup><a href="#cite_note-letter144-169">[T 13]</a></sup> An addition from late 1945 was <a href="/wiki/Ad%C3%BBnaic">Adûnaic</a> or <a href="/wiki/N%C3%BAmen%C3%B3rean">Númenórean</a>, a language of a "faintly <a href="/wiki/Semitic_languages">Semitic</a> flavour", connected with Tolkien's <a href="/wiki/Atlantis">Atlantis</a> legend, which by <i><a href="/wiki/The_Notion_Club_Papers">The Notion Club Papers</a></i> ties directly into his ideas about the inability of language to be inherited, and via the "<a href="/wiki/Second_Age">Second Age</a>" and the story of <a href="/wiki/E%C3%A4rendil">Eärendil</a> was grounded in the <i>legendarium</i>, thereby providing a link of Tolkien's 20th-century "real primary world" with the legendary past of his Middle-earth.<sup>[<i><a href="/wiki/Wikipedia:Citation_needed">citation needed</a></i>]</sup>
</p><p>Tolkien considered languages inseparable from the mythology associated with them, and he consequently took a dim view of <a href="/wiki/International_auxiliary_language">auxiliary languages</a>: in 1930 a congress of Esperantists were told as much by him, in his lecture <i><a href="/wiki/A_Secret_Vice">A Secret Vice</a></i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-170">[156]</a></sup> "Your language construction will breed a mythology", but by 1956 he had concluded that "<a href="/wiki/Volap%C3%BCk">Volapük</a>, <a href="/wiki/Esperanto">Esperanto</a>, <a href="/wiki/Ido_(language)">Ido</a>, <a href="/wiki/Novial">Novial</a>, &amp;c, &amp;c, are dead, far deader than ancient unused languages, because their authors never invented any Esperanto legends".<sup><a href="#cite_note-letter180-171">[T 14]</a></sup>
</p><p>The popularity of Tolkien's books has had a small but lasting effect on the use of language in fantasy literature in particular, and even on mainstream dictionaries, which today commonly accept Tolkien's idiosyncratic spellings <i>dwarves</i> and <i>dwarvish</i> (alongside <i>dwarfs</i> and <i>dwarfish</i>), which had been little used since the mid-19th century and earlier. (In fact, according to Tolkien, had the <a href="/wiki/Old_English">Old English</a> plural survived, it would have been <i>dwarrows</i> or <i>dwerrows</i>.) He also coined the term <i><a href="/wiki/Eucatastrophe">eucatastrophe</a></i>, though it remains mainly used in connection with his own work.<sup>[<i><a href="/wiki/Wikipedia:Citation_needed">citation needed</a></i>]</sup>
</p>
<h2>Artwork</h2>
<p>Tolkien learnt to paint and draw as a child, and continued to do so all his adult life. From early in his writing career, the development of his stories was accompanied by drawings and paintings, especially of landscapes, and by maps of the lands in which the tales were set. He also produced pictures to accompany the stories told to his own children, including those later published in <i>Mr Bliss</i> and <i>Roverandom</i>, and sent them elaborately illustrated letters purporting to come from Father Christmas. Although he regarded himself as an amateur, the publisher used the author's own cover art, <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_maps">his maps</a>, and full-page illustrations for the early editions of <i>The Hobbit</i>. He prepared maps and illustrations for <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, but the first edition contained only the maps, his <a href="/wiki/Calligraphy">calligraphy</a> for the inscription on the One Ring, and his ink drawing of the <a href="/wiki/Doors_of_Durin">Doors of Durin</a>. Much of <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_artwork">his artwork</a> was collected and published in 1995 as a book: <i><a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien:_Artist_and_Illustrator">J. R. R. Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator</a></i>. The book discusses Tolkien's paintings, drawings, and sketches, and reproduces approximately 200 examples of his work.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Hammond_Scull_1995-172">[157]</a></sup> Catherine McIlwaine curated a major exhibition of Tolkien's artwork at the <a href="/wiki/Bodleian_Library">Bodleian Library</a>, <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien:_Maker_of_Middle-earth">Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth</a></i>, accompanied by a book of the same name that analyses Tolkien's achievement and illustrates the full range of the types of artwork that he created.<sup><a href="#cite_note-173">[158]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Legacy</h2>
<h3>Influence</h3>
<p>While many other authors had published works of fantasy before Tolkien, the great success of <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> led directly to <a href="/wiki/Works_inspired_by_J._R._R._Tolkien">a popular resurgence</a> and the shaping of the modern fantasy genre. This has caused Tolkien to be popularly identified as the "father" of modern fantasy literature<sup><a href="#cite_note-174">[159]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Oxford_Companion-175">[160]</a></sup>—or, more precisely, of high fantasy,<sup><a href="#cite_note-encyc-176">[161]</a></sup> as in the work of authors such as <a href="/wiki/Ursula_Le_Guin">Ursula Le Guin</a> and her <i><a href="/wiki/Earthsea">Earthsea</a></i> series.<sup><a href="#cite_note-177">[162]</a></sup> In 2008, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Times">The Times</a></i> ranked him sixth on a list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945".<sup><a href="#cite_note-The_Times_April_2008-178">[163]</a></sup> His influence has extended to <a href="/wiki/Music_of_Middle-earth">music</a>, including the Danish group <a href="/wiki/The_Tolkien_Ensemble">the Tolkien Ensemble</a>'s setting of all the <a href="/wiki/Poetry_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">poetry in <i>The Lord of the Rings</i></a> to their vocal music;<sup><a href="#cite_note-179">[164]</a></sup> and to a broad range of <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_video_games">games set in Middle-earth</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Maier-Zucchino_2019-180">[165]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Adaptations</h3>
<p>In a 1951 letter to publisher Milton Waldman (1895–1976), Tolkien wrote about his intentions to create a "body of more or less connected legend", of which "[t]he cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama".<sup><a href="#cite_note-181">[T 15]</a></sup> The hands and minds of many artists have indeed been inspired by Tolkien's legends. Personally known to him were <a href="/wiki/Pauline_Baynes">Pauline Baynes</a> (Tolkien's favourite illustrator of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tom_Bombadil">The Adventures of Tom Bombadil</a></i> and <i><a href="/wiki/Farmer_Giles_of_Ham">Farmer Giles of Ham</a></i>) and <a href="/wiki/Donald_Swann">Donald Swann</a> (who set the music to <i><a href="/wiki/The_Road_Goes_Ever_On">The Road Goes Ever On</a></i>). Queen <a href="/wiki/Margrethe_II_of_Denmark">Margrethe II of Denmark</a> created illustrations to <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> in the early 1970s. She sent them to Tolkien, who was struck by the similarity they bore in style to his own drawings.<sup><a href="#cite_note-182">[166]</a></sup> Tolkien was not implacably opposed to the idea of a dramatic adaptation, however, and sold the film, stage and merchandise rights of <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> to <a href="/wiki/United_Artists">United Artists</a> in 1968. United Artists never made a film, although director <a href="/wiki/John_Boorman">John Boorman</a> was planning a live-action film in the early 1970s. In 1976, the rights were sold to <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_Enterprises">Tolkien Enterprises</a>, a division of the <a href="/wiki/Saul_Zaentz">Saul Zaentz</a> Company, and the first film adaptation of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1978_film)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i> was released in 1978 as an animated <a href="/wiki/Rotoscoping">rotoscoping</a> film directed by <a href="/wiki/Ralph_Bakshi">Ralph Bakshi</a> with screenplay by the fantasy writer <a href="/wiki/Peter_S._Beagle">Peter S. Beagle</a>. It covered only the first half of the story of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-183">[167]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 1977, an <a href="/wiki/Animation">animated</a> <a href="/wiki/Musical_film">musical</a> <a href="/wiki/Television_film">television film</a> of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit_(1977_film)">The Hobbit</a></i> was made by <a href="/wiki/Rankin-Bass">Rankin-Bass</a>, and in 1980, they produced the animated musical television film <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(1980_film)">The Return of the King</a></i>, which covered some of the portions of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> that Bakshi was unable to complete. From 2001 to 2003, <a href="/wiki/New_Line_Cinema">New Line Cinema</a> released <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(film_series)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i> as a trilogy of <a href="/wiki/Live-action">live-action</a> films that were filmed in New Zealand and directed by <a href="/wiki/Peter_Jackson">Peter Jackson</a>. The series was successful, performing extremely well commercially and winning numerous <a href="/wiki/Academy_Awards">Oscars</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-184">[168]</a></sup>
From 2012 to 2014, <a href="/wiki/Warner_Bros.">Warner Bros.</a> and New Line Cinema released <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit_(film_series)">The Hobbit</a></i>, a series of three films based on <i>The Hobbit</i>, with <a href="/wiki/Peter_Jackson">Peter Jackson</a> serving as executive producer, director, and co-writer.<sup><a href="#cite_note-february-185">[169]</a></sup> The first instalment, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit:_An_Unexpected_Journey">The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey</a></i>, was released in December 2012;<sup><a href="#cite_note-186">[170]</a></sup> the second, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit:_The_Desolation_of_Smaug">The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug</a></i>, in December 2013;<sup><a href="#cite_note-187">[171]</a></sup> and the last instalment, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit:_The_Battle_of_the_Five_Armies">The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies</a></i>, in December 2014.<sup><a href="#cite_note-188">[172]</a></sup> In 2017, <a href="/wiki/Amazon_(company)">Amazon</a> acquired the global television rights to <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings">The Lord of the Rings</a></i>, for a series of new stories set before <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-189">[173]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-190">[174]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Memorials</h3>
<p>Tolkien and the characters and places from his works have become eponyms of many real-world objects. These include <a href="/wiki/Planetary_nomenclature#Titan">geographical features on Titan</a> (Saturn's largest moon),<sup><a href="#cite_note-191">[175]</a></sup>
street names such as There and Back Again Lane, inspired by <i>The Hobbit</i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-192">[176]</a></sup>
mountains such as Mount Shadowfax, <a href="/wiki/Mount_Gandalf">Mount Gandalf</a> and <a href="/wiki/Mount_Aragorn">Mount Aragorn</a> in Canada,<sup><a href="#cite_note-193">[177]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-194">[178]</a></sup>
companies such as <a href="/wiki/Palantir_Technologies">Palantir Technologies</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-historypalantir-195">[179]</a></sup>
and species including the wasp <i><a href="/wiki/Shireplitis">Shireplitis</a> tolkieni</i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Larsen-196">[180]</a></sup> 37 new species of <i><a href="/wiki/Elachista">Elachista</a></i> moths,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Larsen-196">[180]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Kaila_1999-197">[181]</a></sup> and many fossils.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Gee_p55-198">[182]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Van_Valen1978-199">[183]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Beck-200">[184]</a></sup>
</p><p>Since 2003, <a href="/wiki/The_Tolkien_Society">The Tolkien Society</a> has organized <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_Reading_Day">Tolkien Reading Day</a>, which takes place on 25 March in schools around the world.<sup><a href="#cite_note-201">[185]</a></sup> In 2013, <a href="/wiki/Pembroke_College,_Oxford_University">Pembroke College, Oxford University</a>, established an <a href="/wiki/The_J.R.R._Tolkien_Lecture_on_Fantasy_Literature">annual lecture on fantasy literature</a> in Tolkien's honour.<sup><a href="#cite_note-202">[186]</a></sup> In 2012, Tolkien was among the <a href="/wiki/Culture_of_the_United_Kingdom">British cultural icons</a> selected by artist Sir <a href="/wiki/Peter_Blake_(artist)">Peter Blake</a> to appear in a new version of his most famous artwork—the Beatles' <i><a href="/wiki/Sgt._Pepper%27s_Lonely_Hearts_Club_Band">Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band</a></i> album cover—to celebrate the British cultural figures of his life that he most admired.<sup><a href="#cite_note-203">[187]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-204">[188]</a></sup> A 2019 biographical film, <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien_(film)">Tolkien</a></i>, focused on Tolkien's early life and war experiences.<sup><a href="#cite_note-205">[189]</a></sup> The Tolkien family and estate stated that they did not "approve of, authorise or participate in the making of" the film.<sup><a href="#cite_note-206">[190]</a></sup>
</p>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Tolkien%27s_Sarehole_Mill_blue_plaque-persp.jpg"></a></p></div>
<p>Several <a href="/wiki/Blue_plaque">blue plaques</a> in England commemorate places associated with Tolkien, including for his childhood, his workplaces, and places he visited.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Tolkien_Society_Memorials-45">[41]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-207">[191]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-208">[192]</a></sup>
</p>
<table>
<tbody><tr>
<th>Address</th>
<th>Commemoration</th>
<th>Date unveiled</th>
<th>Issued by
</th></tr>
<tr>
<td><a href="/wiki/Sarehole_Mill">Sarehole Mill</a>, <a href="/wiki/Hall_Green">Hall Green</a>, Birmingham
</td>
<td>"Inspired" 1896–1900 (i.e. lived nearby)
</td>
<td>15 August 2002
</td>
<td><a href="/wiki/Birmingham_Civic_Society">Birmingham Civic Society</a> and <a href="/wiki/The_Tolkien_Society">The Tolkien Society</a><sup><a href="#cite_note-209">[193]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>1 Duchess Place, <a href="/wiki/Ladywood">Ladywood</a>, Birmingham
</td>
<td>Lived near here 1902–1910
</td>
<td>Unknown
</td>
<td>Birmingham Civic Society<sup><a href="#cite_note-210">[194]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>4 Highfield Road, <a href="/wiki/Edgbaston">Edgbaston</a>, Birmingham
</td>
<td>Lived here 1910–1911
</td>
<td>Unknown
</td>
<td>Birmingham Civic Society and The Tolkien Society<sup><a href="#cite_note-211">[195]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Plough and Harrow, <a href="/wiki/Hagley_Road">Hagley Road</a>, Birmingham
</td>
<td>Stayed here June 1916
</td>
<td>June 1997
</td>
<td>The Tolkien Society<sup><a href="#cite_note-212">[196]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>2 Darnley Road, <a href="/wiki/West_Park,_Leeds">West Park, Leeds</a>
</td>
<td>First academic appointment, Leeds
</td>
<td>1 October 2012
</td>
<td>The Tolkien Society and <a href="/wiki/Leeds_Civic_Trust">Leeds Civic Trust</a><sup><a href="#cite_note-213">[197]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>20 <a href="/wiki/Northmoor_Road">Northmoor Road</a>, <a href="/wiki/North_Oxford">North Oxford</a>
</td>
<td>Lived here 1930–1947
</td>
<td>3 December 2002
</td>
<td><a href="/wiki/Oxfordshire_Blue_Plaques_Board">Oxfordshire Blue Plaques Board</a><sup><a href="#cite_note-214">[198]</a></sup>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Hotel Miramar, East Overcliff Drive, <a href="/wiki/Bournemouth">Bournemouth</a>
</td>
<td>Stayed here regularly from the 1950s until 1972
</td>
<td>10 June 1992 by <a href="/wiki/Priscilla_Tolkien">Priscilla Tolkien</a>
</td>
<td>Borough of Bournemouth<sup><a href="#cite_note-215">[199]</a></sup>
</td></tr></tbody></table>
<p>The <a href="/wiki/Royal_Mint">Royal Mint</a> is producing a <a href="/wiki/Commemorative_coin">commemorative</a> £2 coin in 2023 to mark the 50th anniversary of Tolkien's death.<sup><a href="#cite_note-216">[200]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Canonization process</h3>
<p>On 2 September 2017, the <a href="/wiki/Oxford_Oratory">Oxford Oratory</a>, Tolkien's parish church during his time in Oxford, offered its first Mass for the intention of Tolkien's cause for <a href="/wiki/Beatification">beatification</a> to be opened.<sup><a href="#cite_note-epicpew1-217">[201]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-218">[202]</a></sup> A prayer was written for his cause.<sup><a href="#cite_note-epicpew1-217">[201]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Notes</h2>
<div><ol>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-3">^</a></b> Tolkien pronounced his surname <a href="/wiki/Help:Pronunciation_respelling_key"><i>TOL-keen</i></a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-1">[1]</a></sup><sup>[<i><a href="/wiki/Wikipedia:Citing_sources">page needed</a></i>]</sup> In <a href="/wiki/General_American">General American</a>, the surname is commonly pronounced <a href="/wiki/Help:Pronunciation_respelling_key"><i>TOHL-keen</i></a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-2">[2]</a></sup>
</li>
</ol></div>
<h2>References</h2>
<h3>Primary</h3>
<div><ol>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-22">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #267.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Letters306_30-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #306 to Michael Tolkien, 1967 or 1968
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-2"><sup><i><b>c</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-3"><sup><i><b>d</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-4"><sup><i><b>e</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-5"><sup><i><b>f</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-6"><sup><i><b>g</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letters,_No._43_35-7"><sup><i><b>h</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #43 to Michael Tolkien, 6–8 March 1941
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Letter_340_60-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Letter_340_60-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #340.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-spy1_76-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #35 (see also editorial note).
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-86">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #336 to <a href="/wiki/Patrick_Browne_(judge)">Sir Patrick Browne</a>, 23 May 1972
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-87">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #332 to Michael Tolkien, 24 January 1972
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-89">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #294 to Charlotte and Denis Plimmer, 8 February 1967
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-92">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #334 (editorial note).
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Letter_250_100-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #250 to Michael Tolkien, 1 November 1963
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-165">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #7, to the Electors of the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon, University of Oxford, 27 June 1925
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-168">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #163.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-letter144_169-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #144.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-letter180_171-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #180.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-181">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #131
</li>
</ol></div>
<h3>Secondary</h3>
<div><ol>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-1">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Tolkien, Christopher</a>, ed. (1988). <i>The Return of the Shadow: The History of The Lord of the Rings, Part One</i>. The History of Middle-earth. Vol. 6. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-04-440162-0"><bdi>0-04-440162-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-2">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/John_C._Wells">Wells, John C.</a> (2008). <i>Longman Pronunciation Dictionary</i> (3rd ed.). Longman. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-4058-8118-0"><bdi>978-1-4058-8118-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Derdziński2_4-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Derdziński2_4-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Derdziński2_4-2"><sup><i><b>c</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Derdziński2_4-3"><sup><i><b>d</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Derdziński, Ryszard (2017). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20190110183343/http://www.elendilion.pl/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/TolkienAncestry.pdf">"On J. R. R. Tolkien's Roots"</a> (PDF). Archived from <a href="http://www.elendilion.pl/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/TolkienAncestry.pdf">the original</a> (PDF) on 10 January 2019.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Derdziński1_5-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Derdziński1_5-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Derdziński1_5-2"><sup><i><b>c</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Derdziński, Ryszard. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20190110133737/https://depot.ceon.pl/bitstream/handle/123456789/15041/Z%20Prus%20do%20Anglii.pdf?sequence=1&amp;isAllowed=y">"Z Prus do Anglii. Saga rodziny J. R. R. Tolkiena (XIV–XIX wiek)"</a> (PDF). Archived from <a href="https://depot.ceon.pl/bitstream/handle/123456789/15041/Z%20Prus%20do%20Anglii.pdf?sequence=1&amp;isAllowed=y">the original</a> (PDF) on 10 January 2019.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-6">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20130510202325/http://www.verwandt.de/karten/absolut/tolkien.html">"Absolute Verteilung des Namens 'Tolkien'"</a>. <i>verwandt.de</i> (in German). MyHeritage UK. Archived from <a href="http://www.verwandt.de/karten/absolut/tolkien.html">the original</a> on 10 May 2013. Retrieved 9 January 2012.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-7">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-45548112.html">"Ash nazg gimbatul"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Der_Spiegel">Der Spiegel</a></i> (in German). No. 35/1969. 25 August 1969. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110427035821/http://www.spiegel.de/spiegel/print/d-45548112.html">Archived</a> from the original on 27 April 2011. <q>Professor Tolkien, der seinen Namen vom deutschen Wort 'tollkühn' ableitet,... .</q></cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-8">^</a></b> <cite>Geier, Fabian (2009). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien</i> (in German). <a href="/wiki/Rowohlt_Verlag">Rowohlt Taschenbuch Verlag</a>. p. 9. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-3-499-50664-2"><bdi>978-3-499-50664-2</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-9">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 14
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-10">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 13 Both the spider incident and the visit to the homestead are covered here.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-11">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 24
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-12">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, Ch I, "Bloemfontein". At 9 Ashfield Road, King's Heath.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-13">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 27
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-14">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 113
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-15">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 29
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-DoughanBio_16-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-DoughanBio_16-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Doughan, David (2002). <a href="http://www.tolkiensociety.org/tolkien/biography.html">"JRR Tolkien Biography"</a>. <i>Life of Tolkien</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060303050751/http://www.tolkiensociety.org/tolkien/biography.html">Archived</a> from the original on 3 March 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-17">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 22
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-18">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 30
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-19">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 24–51
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Biography31_20-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Biography31_20-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 31
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-21">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 39
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-23">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 25–38
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-24">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://folk.uib.no/hnohf/vice.htm">"Tolkien's Not-So-Secret Vice"</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20121122010424/http://folk.uib.no/hnohf/vice.htm">Archived</a> from the original on 22 November 2012.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-25">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20131224110153/http://lordfingulfin.webs.com/earlierlanguages.htm">"Tolkien's Languages"</a>. Archived from <a href="http://lordfingulfin.webs.com/earlierlanguages.htm">the original</a> on 24 December 2013.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-26">^</a></b> <cite>Bramlett, Perry C. (2002). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=8ef3-s6fixIC&amp;pg=PAPA136"><i>I Am in Fact a Hobbit: An Introduction to the Life and Works of J. R. R. Tolkien</i></a>. <a href="/wiki/Mercer_University_Press">Mercer University Press</a>. p. 136. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-86554-894-7"><bdi>978-0-86554-894-7</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20170215191402/https://books.google.com/books?id=8ef3-s6fixIC&amp;pg=PA136">Archived</a> from the original on 15 February 2017.</cite> See also: <a href="http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Book_of_the_Foxrook">Book of the Foxrook</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20170202055817/http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Book_of_the_Foxrook">Archived</a> 2 February 2017 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-27">^</a></b> <cite>Smith, Arden R. (2006). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=B0loOBA3ejIC&amp;pg=PAPA172">"Esperanto"</a>. In <a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia:_Scholarship_and_Critical_Assessment">The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment</a></i>. <a href="/wiki/Routledge">Routledge</a>. p. 172,</cite> and <a href="http://parmadili.skf.org.pl/elendili/esperanto.jpg">Book of the Foxrook</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20170202162102/http://parmadili.skf.org.pl/elendili/esperanto.jpg">Archived</a> 2 February 2017 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a>; transcription on <a href="http://www.elendilion.pl/2007/06/18/tolkien-i-esperanto/">Tolkien i Esperanto</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20161019054129/http://www.elendilion.pl/2007/06/18/tolkien-i-esperanto/">Archived</a> 19 October 2016 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a>; the text begins with "PRIVATA KODO SKAŬTA" (Private Scout Code)
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-28">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 53–54
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-29">^</a></b> <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien_and_the_Great_War">Tolkien and the Great War</a></i>, p. 6.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-31">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.valais-wallis-digital.ch/de/a/#!/explore/cards/173">"1911 – J. R. R. Tolkien besichtigt das Oberwallis"</a>. <i>Valais Wallis Digital</i> (in German). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20160305092953/https://www.valais-wallis-digital.ch/de/a/#!/explore/cards/173">Archived</a> from the original on 5 March 2016.</cite> citing <a href="#CITEREFCarpenterTolkien1981">Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981</a>, <i>Letters</i> #306.
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-RoyalMail_32-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-RoyalMail_32-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite><a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Hammond, Wayne G.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Christina_Scull">Scull, Christina</a> (26 February 2004). <i>The Lord of the Rings JRR Tolkien Author and Illustrator</i>. <a href="/wiki/Royal_Mail">Royal Mail</a> Group plc (commemorative postage stamp pack).</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-33">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 45, 63–64
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-34">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 40
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-36">^</a></b> <cite>Doughan, David (2002). <a href="http://www.tolkiensociety.org/tolkien/biography.html#2">"War, Lost Tales and Academia"</a>. <i>J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060303050751/http://www.tolkiensociety.org/tolkien/biography.html">Archived</a> from the original on 3 March 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-37">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 43
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Carpenter_1977_p67_38-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Carpenter_1977_p67_38-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 67–69
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-39">^</a></b> <i>The Tolkien Family Album</i>, (1992), p. 34.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-40">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 73
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-41">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 86
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Carpenter_1977_p77_42-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Carpenter_1977_p77_42-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 77–85
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-43">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.thegazette.co.uk/London/issue/29232/page/6968">"No. 29232"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_London_Gazette">The London Gazette</a></i>. 16 July 1915. p. 6968.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-44">^</a></b> <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien_and_the_Great_War">Tolkien and the Great War</a></i>, p. 94.
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Tolkien_Society_Memorials_45-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Tolkien_Society_Memorials_45-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite><a href="https://www.tolkiensociety.org/society/memorials/">"Memorials"</a>. <a href="/wiki/The_Tolkien_Society">The Tolkien Society</a>. 29 October 2016. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210308102744/https://www.tolkiensociety.org/society/memorials/">Archived</a> from the original on 8 March 2021. Retrieved 3 March 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-46">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, p. 138
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Garth144_47-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, pp. 144–145
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-48">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, pp. 147–148
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-49">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, pp. 148–149
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Garth149_50-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Garth149_50-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, p. 149
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-51">^</a></b> Quoted in <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, p. 200
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-52">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 93
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-53">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 93, 103, 105
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-54">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, pp. 94–95
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-55">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFGarth2003">Garth 2003</a>, pp. 207 <i>et seq.</i>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-56">^</a></b> Tolkien's <a href="/wiki/Webley_Revolver">Webley .455</a> service revolver was put on display in 2006 as part of a <a href="/wiki/Battle_of_the_Somme">Battle of the Somme</a> exhibition in the <a href="/wiki/Imperial_War_Museum">Imperial War Museum</a>, London. (See <cite><a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/second-lieutenant-j-r-r-tolkien">"Second Lieutenant J R R Tolkien"</a>. <i>Battle of the Somme</i>. <a href="/wiki/Imperial_War_Museum">Imperial War Museum</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20181125162651/https://www.iwm.org.uk/history/second-lieutenant-j-r-r-tolkien">Archived</a> from the original on 25 November 2018.</cite> and <cite><a href="https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/30034679">"Webley.455 Mark 6 (VI Military)"</a>. <i>Imperial War Museum Collection Search</i>. <a href="/wiki/Imperial_War_Museum">Imperial War Museum</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20181125162641/https://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/30034679">Archived</a> from the original on 25 November 2018.</cite>)
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-57">^</a></b> Several of his service records, mostly dealing with his health problems, can be seen at the National Archives. (<cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20090308111409/http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/pathways/firstworldwar/people/tolkien.htm">"Officer's service record: J R R Tolkien"</a>. <i>First World War</i>. National Archives. Archived from <a href="http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/pathways/firstworldwar/people/tolkien.htm">the original</a> on 8 March 2009. Retrieved 2 December 2007.</cite>)
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-58">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 98
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-59">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.thegazette.co.uk/London/issue/30588/supplement/3561">"No. 30588"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_London_Gazette">The London Gazette</a></i> (Supplement). 19 March 1918. p. 3561.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-61">^</a></b> Following rural English usage, Tolkien used the name "hemlock" for various plants with white flowers in umbels, resembling <a href="/wiki/Poison_hemlock">hemlock</a> (<i>Conium maculatum</i>); the flowers Edith danced among were more probably <a href="/wiki/Cow_parsley">cow parsley</a> (<i>Anthriscus sylvestris</i>) or <a href="/wiki/Wild_carrot">wild carrot</a> (<i>Daucus carota</i>). See <a href="/wiki/John_Garth_(author)">John Garth</a>, <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien_and_the_Great_War">Tolkien and the Great War</a></i> (Harper Collins/Houghton Mifflin 2003, chapter 12), and Peter Gilliver, Jeremy Marshall, &amp; Edmund Weiner, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Ring_of_Words:_Tolkien_and_the_Oxford_English_Dictionary">The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary</a></i> (OUP 2006).
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Grotta_p._58_62-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFGrotta2002">Grotta 2002</a>, p. 58
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-63">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.thegazette.co.uk/London/issue/32110/supplement/10711">"No. 32110"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_London_Gazette">The London Gazette</a></i> (Supplement). 2 November 1920. p. 10711.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-64">^</a></b> <cite>Gilliver, Peter; Marshall, Jeremy; Weiner, Edmund (2006). <a href="/wiki/The_Ring_of_Words:_Tolkien_and_the_Oxford_English_Dictionary"><i>The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary</i></a>. <a href="/wiki/Oxford_University_Press">Oxford University Press</a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Grotta2001_page_64_ff_65-0">^</a></b> <cite>Grotta, Daniel (28 March 2001). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=9LHQvq6P5qIC&amp;pg=PAPA64"><i>J. R. R. Tolkien Architect of Middle Earth</i></a>. Running Press. pp. 64–. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-7624-0956-3"><bdi>978-0-7624-0956-3</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110511071523/http://books.google.com/books?id=9LHQvq6P5qIC&amp;pg=PA64">Archived</a> from the original on 11 May 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-66">^</a></b> <cite>Zettersten, A. (25 April 2011). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=6Q_GAAAAQBAJ&amp;pg=PA134"><i>J. R. R. Tolkien's Double Worlds and Creative Process: Language and Life</i></a>. <a href="/wiki/Springer_(publisher)">Springer</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-230-11840-9"><bdi>978-0-230-11840-9</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20181017123753/https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=6Q_GAAAAQBAJ&amp;pg=PA134#v=onepage&amp;q=lady%20margaret%20hall">Archived</a> from the original on 17 October 2018.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-67">^</a></b> See <i>The Name Nodens</i> (1932) in the bibliographical listing. For the etymology, see <a href="/wiki/Nodens#Etymology">Nodens#Etymology</a>.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-68">^</a></b> <cite>Acocella, Joan (2 June 2014). <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2014/06/02/140602crbo_books_acocella?currentPage=all">"Slaying Monsters: Tolkien's 'Beowulf'"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_Yorker">The New Yorker</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20140530222018/http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2014/06/02/140602crbo_books_acocella?currentPage=all">Archived</a> from the original on 30 May 2014.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-69">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 143
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-70">^</a></b> <cite>Ramey, Bill (30 March 1998). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060421094854/http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/billramey/beowulf.htm">"The Unity of Beowulf: Tolkien and the Critics"</a>. <i>Wisdom's Children</i>. Archived from <a href="http://ourworld.compuserve.com/homepages/billramey/beowulf.htm">the original</a> on 21 April 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-71">^</a></b> Tolkien: <i><a href="/wiki/Finn_and_Hengest">Finn and Hengest</a></i>. Chiefly, p.4 in the Introduction by <a href="/wiki/Alan_Bliss">Alan Bliss</a>.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-72">^</a></b> Tolkien: <i><a href="/wiki/Finn_and_Hengest">Finn and Hengest</a></i>, the discussion of <i>Eotena</i>, <i>passim</i>.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-73">^</a></b> <cite>Kennedy, Michael (2001). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060509110607/http://www.triode.net.au/~dragon/tilkal/issue1/beowulf.html">"Tolkien and Beowulf – Warriors of Middle-earth"</a>. <i>Amon Hen</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.triode.net.au/~dragon/tilkal/issue1/beowulf.html">the original</a> on 9 May 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Biog_p133_74-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Biog_p133_74-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 133
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-75">^</a></b> <cite>Turing, Dermot (2020). <i>The Codebreakers of Bletchley Park</i>. London: Arcturus Publishing. p. 51. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-7895-0621-1"><bdi>978-1-7895-0621-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-spy3_77-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Hammond, Wayne G.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Christina_Scull">Scull, Christina</a> (2006). <a href="/wiki/The_J.R.R._Tolkien_Companion_and_Guide"><i>The J.R.R. Tolkien Companion and Guide</i></a>. Vol. 2. <a href="/wiki/HarperCollins">HarperCollins</a>. pp. 224, 226, 232. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-618-39113-4"><bdi>978-0-618-39113-4</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Grotta2001_page_110_ff_78-0">^</a></b> <cite>Grotta, Daniel (28 March 2001). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=9LHQvq6P5qIC&amp;pg=PAPA110"><i>J. R. R. Tolkien Architect of Middle Earth</i></a>. Running Press. pp. 110–. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-7624-0956-3"><bdi>978-0-7624-0956-3</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20140111194008/http://books.google.com/books?id=9LHQvq6P5qIC&amp;pg=PA110">Archived</a> from the original on 11 January 2014.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-79">^</a></b> <cite>McCoy, Felicity Hayes (11 June 2019). <a href="https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/books/when-my-father-met-gandalf-tolkien-s-time-as-an-external-examiner-at-ucg-1.3921043">"When my father met Gandalf: Tolkien's time as an external examiner at UCG"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Irish_Times">The Irish Times</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210325113855/https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/books/when-my-father-met-gandalf-tolkien-s-time-as-an-external-examiner-at-ucg-1.3921043">Archived</a> from the original on 25 March 2021. Retrieved 3 March 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-80">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://www.nui.ie/college/Honorary_Degree_Recipients.asp">"Honorary Degrees Awarded"</a>. <a href="/wiki/National_University_of_Ireland">National University of Ireland</a>. 3 March 2021. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210128030329/http://www.nui.ie/college/Honorary_Degree_Recipients.asp">Archived</a> from the original on 28 January 2021. Retrieved 3 March 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-81">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 206–208
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTELee202012–15_82-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFLee2020">Lee 2020</a>, pp. 12–15.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-83">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.lmh.ox.ac.uk/news/memory-priscilla-tolkien">"In memory of Priscilla Tolkien"</a>. <i>Lady Margaret Hall</i>. Retrieved 1 March 2022.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-84">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 167
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-85">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.nobelprize.org/nomination/archive/show.php?id=16784">"Nomination Database"</a>. Nobel Foundation. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20170421094448/http://www.nobelprize.org/nomination/archive/show.php?id=16784">Archived</a> from the original on 21 April 2017.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-88">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, Part 7, Chapter 2 "Bournemouth"
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-SimonTolkien_90-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-SimonTolkien_90-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Tolkien, Simon (2003). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110927051931/http://www.simontolkien.com/mygrandfather.html">"My Grandfather JRR Tolkien"</a>. Archived from <a href="http://www.simontolkien.com/mygrandfather.html">the original</a> on 27 September 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-91">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.thegazette.co.uk/London/issue/45554/supplement/9">"No. 45554"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_London_Gazette">The London Gazette</a></i> (Supplement). 1 January 1972. p. 9.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-93">^</a></b> <cite>Shropshire County Council (2002). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20120728154119/http://www3.shropshire-cc.gov.uk/tolkien.htm">"J. R. R. Tolkien"</a>. <i>Literary Heritage, West Midlands</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www3.shropshire-cc.gov.uk/tolkien.htm">the original</a> on 28 July 2012.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-94">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Bradley_J._Birzer">Birzer, Bradley J.</a> (13 May 2014). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=TyKDAwAAQBAJ&amp;pg=PT35"><i>J. R. R. Tolkien's Sanctifying Myth: Understanding Middle-earth</i></a>. Open Road Media. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-4976-4891-3"><bdi>978-1-4976-4891-3</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20200522094323/https://books.google.com/books?id=TyKDAwAAQBAJ&amp;pg=PT35#v=onepage&amp;q=jrr+tolkien+bleeding+ulcer">Archived</a> from the original on 22 May 2020.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-NYTimes_obit_95-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-NYTimes_obit_95-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/books/01/02/11/specials/tolkien-obit.html">"J. R. R. Tolkien Dead at 81; Wrote 'The Lord of the Rings'"</a>. <i>The New York Times</i>. 3 September 1973. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20090411062439/http://www.nytimes.com/books/01/02/11/specials/tolkien-obit.html">Archived</a> from the original on 11 April 2009. <q>J. R. R. Tolkien, linguist, scholar and author of 'The Lord of the Rings', died today in Bournemouth. He was 81 years old. ...</q></cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-inflation-UK_96-0">^</a></b> UK <a href="/wiki/Retail_Price_Index">Retail Price Index</a> inflation figures are based on data from <cite>Clark, Gregory (2017). <a href="https://measuringworth.com/datasets/ukearncpi/">"The Annual RPI and Average Earnings for Britain, 1209 to Present (New Series)"</a>. <i>MeasuringWorth</i>. Retrieved 11 June 2022.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-probate_97-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://probatesearch.service.gov.uk/Calendar?surname=Tolkien&amp;yearOfDeath=1973&amp;page=1#calendar">"Tolkien, John Ronald Reul of Merton College Oxford"</a>. <i>probatesearchservice.gov</i>. UK Government. 1973. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20200522093721/https://probatesearch.service.gov.uk/Calendar?surname=Tolkien&amp;yearOfDeath=1973&amp;page=1#calendar">Archived</a> from the original on 22 May 2020.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-CSL_98-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Humphrey_Carpenter">Carpenter, Humphrey</a> (1978). <i>The Inklings</i>. Allen &amp; Unwin. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-00-774869-3"><bdi>978-0-00-774869-3</bdi></a>.</cite> Lewis was brought up in the <a href="/wiki/Church_of_Ireland">Church of Ireland</a>.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-99">^</a></b> <cite>Ware, Jim (2006). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=N_0VhzQKIIAC&amp;pg=PAPR22"><i>Finding God in The Hobbit</i></a>. p. xxii. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-4143-0596-7"><bdi>978-1-4143-0596-7</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Yatt_101-0">^</a></b> <cite>Yatt, John (2 December 2002). <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2002/dec/02/jrrtolkien.lordoftherings">"Wraiths and Race"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Guardian">The Guardian</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20130826185122/http://www.theguardian.com/books/2002/dec/02/jrrtolkien.lordoftherings">Archived</a> from the original on 26 August 2013. Retrieved 25 May 2010.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-102">^</a></b> <cite>Bhatia, Shyam (8 January 2003). <a href="http://www.rediff.com/news/2003/jan/08lord.htm">"The Lord of the Rings rooted in racism"</a>. Rediff India Abroad. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20101103144856/http://www.rediff.com/news/2003/jan/08lord.htm">Archived</a> from the original on 3 November 2010. Retrieved 4 December 2010.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Rogers_2000_103-0">^</a></b> <cite>Rogers, William N., II; Underwood, Michael R. (2000). Sir George Clark (ed.). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=ES0Hs75IVg0C&amp;pg=PA121"><i>Gagool and Gollum: Exemplars of Degeneration in </i>King Solomon's Mines<i> and </i>The Hobbit<i></i></a>. <i>J. R. R. Tolkien and His Literary Resonances: Views of Middle-earth</i>. Greenwood Publishing Group. pp. 121–132. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-313-30845-1"><bdi>978-0-313-30845-1</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210526123526/https://books.google.com/books?id=ES0Hs75IVg0C&amp;pg=PA121">Archived</a> from the original on 26 May 2021. Retrieved 3 March 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Ibata_Chicago_Tribune_2003_104-0">^</a></b> <cite>Ibata, David (12 January 2003). <a href="https://www.chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/chi-030112epringsrace-story.html">"'Lord' of racism? Critics view trilogy as discriminatory"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Chicago_Tribune">The Chicago Tribune</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210308060753/https://www.chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/chi-030112epringsrace-story.html">Archived</a> from the original on 8 March 2021. Retrieved 3 March 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Magoun_2006_105-0">^</a></b> <cite>Magoun, John F. G. (2006). "South, The". In <a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/J.R.R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia">J.R.R. Tolkien Encyclopedia</a></i>. <a href="/wiki/Routledge">Routledge</a>. pp. 622–623. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/1-135-88034-4"><bdi>1-135-88034-4</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Rearick_2004_106-0">^</a></b> <cite>Rearick, Anderson (2004). "Why is the Only Good Orc a Dead Orc? The Dark Face of Racism Examined in Tolkien's World". <i>Modern Fiction Studies</i>. <b>50</b> (4): 866–867. <a href="/wiki/Doi_(identifier)">doi</a>:<a href="https://doi.org/10.1353%2Fmfs.2005.0008">10.1353/mfs.2005.0008</a>. <a href="/wiki/JSTOR_(identifier)">JSTOR</a> <a href="//www.jstor.org/stable/26286382">26286382</a>. <a href="/wiki/S2CID_(identifier)">S2CID</a> <a href="https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:162647975">162647975</a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Power_2018_107-0">^</a></b> <cite>Power, Ed (27 November 2018). <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/books/news/jrr-tolkiens-orcs-no-racist-george-lucass-stormtroopers/">"JRR Tolkien's orcs are no more racist than George Lucas's Stormtroopers"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Daily_Telegraph">The Daily Telegraph</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210127224728/https://www.telegraph.co.uk/books/news/jrr-tolkiens-orcs-no-racist-george-lucass-stormtroopers/">Archived</a> from the original on 27 January 2021. Retrieved 20 January 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Straubhaar_2004_108-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Sandra_Ballif_Straubhaar">Straubhaar, Sandra Ballif</a> (2004). <a href="/wiki/Jane_Chance">Chance, Jane</a> (ed.). <i>Myth, Late Roman History, and Multiculturalism in Tolkien's Middle-Earth</i>. <i>Tolkien and the invention of myth: a reader</i>. University Press of Kentucky. pp. 101–117. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-8131-2301-1"><bdi>978-0-8131-2301-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-109">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Jared_Lobdell">Lobdell, Jared</a> (2004). <i>The World of the Rings</i>. Open Court. p. 116. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0875483030"><bdi>978-0875483030</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-110">^</a></b> <cite>Clark, George; Timmons, Daniel, eds. (2000). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien and His Literary Resonances: Views of Middle-earth</i>. Greenwood Publishing Group.</cite><sup>[<i><a href="/wiki/Wikipedia:Citing_sources">pages needed</a></i>]</sup>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-111">^</a></b> <cite>Saguaro, Shelley; Thacker, Deborah Cogan (2013). <a href="http://eprints.glos.ac.uk/791/1/Tolkien%20and%20Trees%20PDF.pdf">"Tolkien and Trees"</a> (PDF). In Hunt, Peter (ed.). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien: New Casebook</i>. Palgrave Macmillan. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-137-26399-5"><bdi>978-1-137-26399-5</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20161003153917/http://eprints.glos.ac.uk/791/1/Tolkien%20and%20Trees%20PDF.pdf">Archived</a> (PDF) from the original on 3 October 2016.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-112">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Matthew_T._Dickerson">Dickerson, Matthew</a>; Evans, Jonathan (2006). <i>Ents, Elves, and Eriador: The Environmental Vision of J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. University of Kentucky Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-8131-2418-6"><bdi>978-0-8131-2418-6</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEShippey200548–49_and_throughout_113-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFShippey2005">Shippey 2005</a>, pp. 48–49 and throughout.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-114">^</a></b> <cite>Bofetti, Jason (November 2001). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060821111145/http://www.crisismagazine.com/november2001/feature7.htm">"Tolkien's Catholic Imagination"</a>. <i>Crisis Magazine</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.crisismagazine.com/november2001/feature7.htm">the original</a> on 21 August 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-115">^</a></b> <cite>Caldecott, Stratford (January–February 2002). <a href="http://touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=15-01-051-f">"The Lord &amp; Lady of the Rings"</a>. <i>Touchstone Magazine</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110426033720/http://touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=15-01-051-f">Archived</a> from the original on 26 April 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Yolen_116-0">^</a></b> Jane Yolen, "Introduction", <i>After the King: Stories in Honor of J. R. R. Tolkien</i>, ed, Martin H. Greenberg, pp. vii-viii. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-312-85175-8">0-312-85175-8</a>.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEShippey200540–41_117-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFShippey2005">Shippey 2005</a>, pp. 40–41.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEShippey2005104,_190–197,_217_and_throughout_118-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFShippey2005">Shippey 2005</a>, pp. 104, 190–197, 217 and throughout.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEShippey200566–74_and_throughout_119-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFShippey2005">Shippey 2005</a>, pp. 66–74 and throughout.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Fimi_120-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Dimitra_Fimi">Fimi, Dimitra</a> (2006). "'Mad' Elves and 'elusive beauty': some Celtic strands of Tolkien's mythology". <i>Folklore</i>. <b>117</b> (2): 156–170. <a href="/wiki/Doi_(identifier)">doi</a>:<a href="https://doi.org/10.1080%2F00155870600707847">10.1080/00155870600707847</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISSN_(identifier)">ISSN</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/issn/1547-3155">1547-3155</a>. <a href="/wiki/JSTOR_(identifier)">JSTOR</a> <a href="//www.jstor.org/stable/30035484">30035484</a>. <a href="/wiki/S2CID_(identifier)">S2CID</a> <a href="https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:162292626">162292626</a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-121">^</a></b> <cite>Handwerk, Brian (1 March 2004). <a href="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2001/12/1219_tolkienroots.html">"Lord of the Rings Inspired by an Ancient Epic"</a>. <i>National Geographic News</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060316192124/http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2001/12/1219_tolkienroots.html">Archived</a> from the original on 16 March 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Purtill_2003_122-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Richard_Purtill">Purtill, Richard L.</a> (2003). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien: Myth, Morality, and Religion</i>. San Francisco: <a href="/wiki/Harper_%26_Row">Harper &amp; Row</a>. pp. 52, 131. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-89870-948-2"><bdi>0-89870-948-2</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-123">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Verlyn_Flieger">Flieger, Verlyn</a> (2001). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=I33v5ny3NX0C&amp;pg=PA77"><i>A Question of Time: J. R. R. Tolkien's Road to Faërie</i></a>. <a href="/wiki/Kent_State_University_Press">Kent State University Press</a>. pp. 76–77. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0873386999"><bdi>978-0873386999</bdi></a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210526123500/https://books.google.com/books?id=I33v5ny3NX0C&amp;pg=PA77">Archived</a> from the original on 26 May 2021. Retrieved 3 March 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-124">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 77
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Morton_2009_125-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Andrew_Morton_(writer)">Morton, Andrew</a> (2009). <i>Tolkien's Bag End</i>. Studley, Warwickshire: Brewin Books. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-85858-455-3"><bdi>978-1-85858-455-3</bdi></a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/551485018">551485018</a>.</cite> Morton wrote <a href="https://www.tolkienlibrary.com/press/1065-Bag-End-A-Very-English-Place.php">an account of his findings</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20201205154649/http://www.tolkienlibrary.com/press/1065-Bag-End-A-Very-English-Place.php">Archived</a> 5 December 2020 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a> for the Tolkien Library.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-126">^</a></b> <cite>Resnick, Henry (1967). "An Interview with Tolkien". <i><a href="/wiki/Niekas">Niekas</a></i>. pp. 37–47.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-127">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Jared_Lobdell">Lobdell, Jared C.</a> (2004). <a href="https://archive.org/details/worldofringslang0000lobd/page/5"><i>The World of the Rings: Language, Religion, and Adventure in Tolkien</i></a>. Open Court. pp. <a href="https://archive.org/details/worldofringslang0000lobd/page/5">5–6</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-8126-9569-4"><bdi>978-0-8126-9569-4</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-128">^</a></b> <cite>Rogers, William N., II; Underwood, Michael R. (2000). <a href="https://archive.org/details/jrrtolkienhislit0000unse/page/121">"Gagool and Gollum: Exemplars of Degeneration in <i>King Solomon's Mines</i> and <i>The Hobbit</i>"</a>. In Clark, George; Timmons, Daniel (eds.). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien and His Literary Resonances: Views of Middle-earth</i>. Greenwood Press. pp. <a href="https://archive.org/details/jrrtolkienhislit0000unse/page/121">121–132</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-313-30845-1"><bdi>978-0-313-30845-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977180_129-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 180.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Ciabattari_BBC_2014_130-0">^</a></b> <cite>Ciabattari, Jane (20 November 2014). <a href="http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20141120-the-hobbits-and-the-hippies">"Hobbits and hippies: Tolkien and the counterculture"</a>. <a href="/wiki/BBC">BBC</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20190331091048/http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20141120-the-hobbits-and-the-hippies">Archived</a> from the original on 31 March 2019. Retrieved 3 March 2021.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Niles_131-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/John_Niles_(scholar)">Niles, John D.</a> (1998). "<i>Beowulf</i>, Truth, and Meaning". In <a href="/wiki/John_D._Niles">Bjork, Robert E.</a>; Niles, John D. (eds.). <i>A </i>Beowulf<i> Handbook</i>. Lincoln, Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press. p. 5. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-8032-6150-0"><bdi>0-8032-6150-0</bdi></a>. <q>Bypassing earlier scholarship, critics of the past fifty years have generally traced the current era of <i>Beowulf</i> studies back to 1936 [and Tolkien's essay].</q></cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEShippey200566–74_132-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFShippey2005">Shippey 2005</a>, pp. 66–74.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEShippey200556–57_133-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFShippey2005">Shippey 2005</a>, pp. 56–57.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-134">^</a></b> <cite>Phillip, Norman (2005). <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/books/01/02/11/specials/tolkien-mag67.html">"The Prevalence of Hobbits"</a>. <i>The New York Times</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20090411062440/http://www.nytimes.com/books/01/02/11/specials/tolkien-mag67.html">Archived</a> from the original on 11 April 2009.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-travels_135-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.questia.com/read/1P2-1716622/travel-etc-grand-tours-who-travels-the-world-in">"Grand Tours: Who Travels the World in a Single Night?"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Independent_on_Sunday">The Independent on Sunday</a></i>. 22 December 2002. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20130921073323/http://www.questia.com/read/1P2-1716622/travel-etc-grand-tours-who-travels-the-world-in">Archived</a> from the original on 21 September 2013. Retrieved 22 November 2012.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-A_Companion_to_J._R._R._Tolkien_ch13_136-0">^</a></b> <cite>Artamonova, Maria (15 April 2014). "'Minor' Works". In Lee, Stuart D. (ed.). <i>A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. Wiley. Chapter 13. <a href="/wiki/Doi_(identifier)">doi</a>:<a href="https://doi.org/10.1002%2F9781118517468">10.1002/9781118517468</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-470-65982-3"><bdi>978-0-470-65982-3</bdi></a>. <a href="/wiki/S2CID_(identifier)">S2CID</a> <a href="https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:160570361">160570361</a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-137">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Hammond, Wayne G.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Douglas_A._Anderson">Anderson, Douglas A.</a> (1993). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien: A Descriptive Bibliography</i>. New Castle, DE: <a href="/wiki/Oak_Knoll_Books">Oak Knoll Books</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-938768-42-5"><bdi>0-938768-42-5</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-The_New_Hobbit_138-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-The_New_Hobbit_138-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 187–208
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-139">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.nytimes.com/books/01/02/11/specials/tolkien-oxford.html">"Oxford Calling"</a>. <i>The New York Times</i>. 5 June 1955. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20090411062443/http://www.nytimes.com/books/01/02/11/specials/tolkien-oxford.html">Archived</a> from the original on 11 April 2009.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-140">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Dimitra_Fimi">Fimi, Dimitra</a> (2020) [2014]. "Later Fantasy Fiction: Tolkien's Legacy". In <a href="/wiki/Stuart_D._Lee">Lee, Stuart D.</a> (ed.). <i>A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. <a href="/wiki/Wiley_Blackwell">Wiley Blackwell</a>. pp. 335–349. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1119656029"><bdi>978-1119656029</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-141">^</a></b> <cite>Seiler, Andy (16 December 2003). <a href="http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/life/movies/news/2003-12-12-lotr-main_x.htm">"'Rings' comes full circle"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/USA_Today">USA Today</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20121019074732/http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/life/movies/news/2003-12-12-lotr-main_x.htm">Archived</a> from the original on 19 October 2012.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-142">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20121031065136/http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100.shtml">"BBC – The Big Read"</a>. <i>BBC</i>. April 2003. Archived from <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/bigread/top100.shtml">the original</a> on 31 October 2012. Retrieved 2 November 2012.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-143">^</a></b> <cite>Cooper, Callista (5 December 2005). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060116213130/http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200512/s1523327.htm">"Epic trilogy tops favorite film poll"</a>. <i>ABC News</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200512/s1523327.htm">the original</a> on 16 January 2006.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-144">^</a></b> <cite>O'Hehir, Andrew (4 June 2001). <a href="http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2001/06/04/tolkien/">"The book of the century"</a>. <i>Salon</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060213000712/http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2001/06/04/tolkien/">Archived</a> from the original on 13 February 2006.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-145">^</a></b> <cite>Diver, Krysia (5 October 2004). <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/10/04/1096871805007.html">"A lord for Germany"</a>. <i>The Sydney Morning Herald</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070817074109/http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/10/04/1096871805007.html">Archived</a> from the original on 17 August 2007.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-146">^</a></b> <cite>Hammond, Wayne G. (1993). <a href="https://www.worldcat.org/oclc/27013976"><i>J.R.R. Tolkien : a descriptive bibliography</i></a>. Douglas A. Anderson. Winchester. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/1-873040-11-3"><bdi>1-873040-11-3</bdi></a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/27013976">27013976</a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-147">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Gergely_Nagy_(scholar)">Nagy, Gergely</a> (2020) [2014]. "'The Silmarillion': Tolkien's Theory of Myth, Text, and Culture". In <a href="/wiki/Stuart_D._Lee">Lee, Stuart D.</a> (ed.). <i>A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. <a href="/wiki/Wiley_Blackwell">Wiley Blackwell</a>. pp. 107–118. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1119656029"><bdi>978-1119656029</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-WWE-1978_148-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://www.worldswithoutend.com/books_year_index.asp?year=1978">"1978 Award Winners &amp; Nominees"</a>. <i>Worlds Without End</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20090709212409/http://www.worldswithoutend.com/books_year_index.asp?year=1978">Archived</a> from the original on 9 July 2009.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-149">^</a></b> <cite>Martinez, Michael (27 July 2002). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20080617122627/http://www.merp.com/essays/MichaelMartinez/michaelmartinezsuite101essay122">"Middle-earth Revised, Again"</a>. <i>Michael Martinez Tolkien Essays</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.merp.com/essays/MichaelMartinez/michaelmartinezsuite101essay122">the original</a> on 17 June 2008.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-150">^</a></b> <cite>Grovier, Kelly (27 April 2007). <a href="http://books.guardian.co.uk/reviews/generalfiction/0,,2067804,00.html">"In the name of the father"</a>. <a href="/wiki/The_Observer">The Observer</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070824151048/http://books.guardian.co.uk/reviews/generalfiction/0,,2067804,00.html">Archived</a> from the original on 24 August 2007. Retrieved 22 September 2007.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-151">^</a></b> <cite>Allen, Katie (6 January 2009). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20090430090505/http://www.thebookseller.com/news/73781-new-tolkien-for-harpercollins.html">"New Tolkien for HarperCollins"</a>. The Bookseller. Archived from <a href="http://www.thebookseller.com/news/73781-new-tolkien-for-harpercollins.html">the original</a> on 30 April 2009. Retrieved 6 January 2009.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-152">^</a></b> <cite>Flood, Alison (9 October 2012). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20161202023157/https://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/oct/09/jrr-tolkien-new-poem-king-arthur">"New JRR Tolkien epic due out next year"</a>. <i>guardian.co.uk</i>. Archived from <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/oct/09/jrr-tolkien-new-poem-king-arthur">the original</a> on 2 December 2016.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-153">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-london-26662761">"JRR Tolkien's Beowulf translation to be published"</a>. <i>BBC News</i>. 20 March 2014. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20140415081413/http://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-london-26662761">Archived</a> from the original on 15 April 2014.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-154">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://www.publishersweekly.com/978-0-544-44278-8">"Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Publishers_Weekly">Publishers Weekly</a></i>. 26 May 2014. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20140905170548/http://www.publishersweekly.com/978-0-544-44278-8">Archived</a> from the original on 5 September 2014.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-207">^</a></b> <cite>Garth, John (2006). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070517091020/http://www.routledge-ny.com/ref/tolkien/wwi.html">"World War I"</a>. In <a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia:_Scholarship_and_Critical_Assessment">The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment</a></i>. Oxon: Routledge. p. 713. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-96942-0"><bdi>978-0-415-96942-0</bdi></a>. Archived from <a href="http://www.routledge-ny.com/ref/tolkien/wwi.html">the original</a> on 17 May 2007.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-208">^</a></b> <cite>Jenkins, Stephanie. <a href="http://www.oxfordhistory.org.uk/streets/inscriptions/headington/tolkien.html">"Inscriptions: J. R. R. Tolkien"</a>. Headington.org. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20140301063512/http://www.oxfordhistory.org.uk/streets/inscriptions/headington/tolkien.html">Archived</a> from the original on 1 March 2014.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-209">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070524114518/http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/sarehole.html">"Sarehole Mill"</a>. <i>Blue Plaques Photograph Gallery</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/sarehole.html">the original</a> on 24 May 2007.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-210">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070524114159/http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/tolkien2.html">"Duchess Place"</a>. <i>Blue Plaques Photograph Gallery</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/tolkien2.html">the original</a> on 24 May 2007.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-211">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070524113934/http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/tolkien3.html">"4 Highfield Road"</a>. <i>Blue Plaques Photograph Gallery</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/tolkien3.html">the original</a> on 24 May 2007.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-212">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070524113840/http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/tolkien.html">"Plough and Harrow"</a>. <i>Blue Plaques Photograph Gallery</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.birminghamnet.co.uk/galleries/features/blueplaque/tolkien.html">the original</a> on 24 May 2007.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-213">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://openplaques.org/plaques/11793">"J. R. R. Tolkien"</a>. Open Plaques. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210118111902/http://openplaques.org/plaques/11793">Archived</a> from the original on 18 January 2021. Retrieved 6 April 2021.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-214">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://oxonblueplaques.org.uk/plaques/tolkien.html">"J. R. R. Tolkien Philologist and Author"</a>. <i>Plaques Awarded</i>. Oxfordshire Blue Plaques Board. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210526123515/http://oxonblueplaques.org.uk/plaques/tolkien.html">Archived</a> from the original on 26 May 2021. Retrieved 9 September 2010.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-215">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20141210173239/http://www.bournemouth.gov.uk/PlanningBuildings/ConservationDesignTrees/cdtfiles/BluePlaquebookletandmap.pdf">"Bournemouth's Blue Plaques"</a> (PDF). Bournemouth Borough Council. p. 15. Archived from <a href="http://www.bournemouth.gov.uk/PlanningBuildings/ConservationDesignTrees/cdtfiles/BluePlaquebookletandmap.pdf">the original</a> (PDF) on 10 December 2014.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-216">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.royalmint.com/annual-sets/2023/celebrating-the-life-and-work-of-jrr-tolkien">"Celebrating the Life and Work of JRR Tolkien"</a>. The Royal Mint. Retrieved 4 January 2023.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-epicpew1_217-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-epicpew1_217-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite><a href="https://epicpew.com/tolkien-canonization-cause/">""Saint Tolkien": Why This English Don Is on the Path to Sainthood"</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20190430175214/https://epicpew.com/tolkien-canonization-cause/">Archived</a> from the original on 30 April 2019.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-218">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://aleteia.org/2018/07/14/will-tolkien-and-chesterton-be-declared-saints/">"Will Tolkien and Chesterton be declared saints?"</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20190430175206/https://aleteia.org/2018/07/14/will-tolkien-and-chesterton-be-declared-saints/">Archived</a> from the original on 30 April 2019.</cite>
</li>
</ol></div>
<h2>Sources</h2>
<div>
<ul><li><cite><a href="/wiki/Humphrey_Carpenter">Carpenter, Humphrey</a> (1977). <a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien:_A_Biography"><i>Tolkien: A Biography</i></a>. New York: Ballantine Books. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-04-928037-3"><bdi>978-0-04-928037-3</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>———; Tolkien, Christopher, eds. (1981). <a href="/wiki/The_Letters_of_J._R._R._Tolkien"><i>The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien</i></a>. London: <a href="/wiki/George_Allen_%26_Unwin">George Allen &amp; Unwin</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-04-826005-5"><bdi>978-0-04-826005-5</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/John_Garth_(author)">Garth, John</a> (2003). <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien_and_the_Great_War">Tolkien and the Great War</a></i>. Harper-Collins. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-00-711953-0"><bdi>978-0-00-711953-0</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Grotta, Daniel (2002). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien: Architect of Middle Earth: A Biography</i>. <a href="/wiki/Running_Press">Running Press</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-7624-1337-9"><bdi>978-0-7624-1337-9</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Stuart_D._Lee">Lee, Stuart D.</a>, ed. (2020) [2014]. <i>A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. <a href="/wiki/Wiley_Blackwell">Wiley Blackwell</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1119656029"><bdi>978-1119656029</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Shippey, Tom</a> (2005) [1982]. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Road_to_Middle-earth">The Road to Middle-earth</a></i> (Third ed.). Houghton Mifflin Company. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-618-25760-7"><bdi>978-0-618-25760-7</bdi></a>.</cite></li></ul>
</div>
<h2>Further reading</h2>
<p>A small selection of books about Tolkien and his works:
</p>
<div>
<ul><li><cite><a href="/wiki/Douglas_A._Anderson">Anderson, Douglas A.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Michael_Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Verlyn_Flieger">Flieger, Verlyn</a>, eds. (2004). <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_Studies"><i>Tolkien Studies, An Annual Scholarly Review</i></a>. Vol. I. West Virginia University Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-937058-87-9"><bdi>978-0-937058-87-9</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Humphrey_Carpenter">Carpenter, Humphrey</a> (1979). <a href="https://archive.org/details/inklingscslewisj00carp"><i>The Inklings: C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams and Their Friends</i></a>. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-395-27628-0"><bdi>978-0-395-27628-0</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Jane_Chance">Chance, Jane</a>, ed. (2003). <i>Tolkien the Medievalist</i>. London, New York: Routledge. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-28944-3"><bdi>978-0-415-28944-3</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>———, ed. (2004). <i>Tolkien and the Invention of Myth, a Reader</i>. Louisville: University Press of Kentucky. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-8131-2301-1"><bdi>978-0-8131-2301-1</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Cilli, Oronzo; <a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Shippey, Tom</a> (2019). <i>Tolkien's Library: An Annotated Checklist</i>. <a href="/wiki/Edinburgh">Edinburgh</a>: Luna Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-911143-67-3"><bdi>978-1-911143-67-3</bdi></a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/1099568978">1099568978</a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>———; Smith, Arden R.; Wynne, Patrick H.; <a href="/wiki/John_Garth_(author)">Garth, John</a> (2017). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien the Esperantist: Before the Arrival of Bilbo Baggins</i>. Barletta: Cafagna. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-88-96906-33-0"><bdi>978-88-96906-33-0</bdi></a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/1020852373">1020852373</a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Costabile, Giovanni Carmine (2018). "Bilbo Baggins and the Forty Thieves The Reworking of Folktale Motifs in The Hobbit (and The Lord of the Rings )". <i>Mythlore</i>. <b>36</b> (2 (132)): 89–104. <a href="/wiki/ISSN_(identifier)">ISSN</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/issn/0146-9339">0146-9339</a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/8513422873">8513422873</a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Janet_Brennan_Croft">Croft, Janet Brennan</a> (2004). <i>War and the Works of J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. Westport: Praegar Publishers. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-313-32592-8"><bdi>0-313-32592-8</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Patrick_Curry">Curry, Patrick</a> (2004). <i>Defending Middle-earth: Tolkien, Myth and Modernity</i>. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-618-47885-9"><bdi>978-0-618-47885-9</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a>, ed. (2006). <a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia:_Scholarship_and_Critical_Assessment"><i>The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment</i></a>. New York City: Routledge. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-96942-0"><bdi>978-0-415-96942-0</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Colin_Duriez">Duriez, Colin</a> (2003). <i>Tolkien and C. S. Lewis: The Gift of Friendship</i>. Mahwah, New Jersey: HiddenSpring. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-58768-026-7"><bdi>978-1-58768-026-7</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>———; Porter, David (2001). <i>The Inklings Handbook: The Lives, Thought and Writings of C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams, Owen Barfield, and Their Friends</i>. London: Azure. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-902694-13-9"><bdi>978-1-902694-13-9</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Verlyn_Flieger">Flieger, Verlyn</a> (2002). <a href="/wiki/Splintered_Light"><i>Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien's World</i></a>. Kent State University Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-87338-744-6"><bdi>978-0-87338-744-6</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>———; <a href="/wiki/Carl_F._Hostetter">Hostetter, Carl F.</a>, eds. (2000). <i>Tolkien's Legendarium: Essays on The History of Middle-earth</i>. Westport, <a href="/wiki/Connecticut">CT</a>: Greenwood Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-313-30530-6"><bdi>978-0-313-30530-6</bdi></a>. DDC 823.912 LC PR6039.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Karen_Wynn_Fonstad">Fonstad, Karen Wynn</a> (1991). <a href="https://archive.org/details/atlasofmiddleear0000fons"><i>The Atlas of Middle-earth</i></a>. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-618-12699-6"><bdi>978-0-618-12699-6</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Robert_Foster_(author)">Foster, Robert</a> (2001). <i><a href="/wiki/The_Complete_Guide_to_Middle-earth">The Complete Guide to Middle-earth</a></i>. Del Rey. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-345-44976-4"><bdi>978-0-345-44976-4</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Fredrick, Candice; McBride, Sam (2001). <i>Woman among the Inklings: Gender, C.S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, and Charles Williams</i>. Greenwood Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-313-31245-8"><bdi>978-0-313-31245-8</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Peter_Gilliver">Gilliver, Peter</a>; Marshall, Jeremy; <a href="/wiki/Edmund_Weiner">Weiner, Edmund</a> (2006). <a href="/wiki/The_Ring_of_Words:_Tolkien_and_the_Oxford_English_Dictionary"><i>The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary</i></a>. Oxford University Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-19-861069-4"><bdi>978-0-19-861069-4</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Glyer, Diana Pavlac (2007). <i>The Company They Keep: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien as Writers in Community</i>. Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-87338-890-0"><bdi>978-0-87338-890-0</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Grant, Patrick (1979). "Belief in Fantasy: J. R. R. Tolkien's <i>Lord of the Rings</i>". <i>Six Modern Authors and Problems of Belief</i>. MacMillan. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0333263402"><bdi>978-0333263402</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Haber, Karen (2001). <a href="https://archive.org/details/meditationsonmid00habe"><i>Meditations on Middle-earth: New Writing on the Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien</i></a>. St. Martin's Press. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-312-27536-5"><bdi>978-0-312-27536-5</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Harrington, Patrick, ed. (2003). <i>Tolkien and Politics</i>. London, England: Third Way Publications. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-9544788-2-7"><bdi>978-0-9544788-2-7</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Stuart_D._Lee">Lee, Stuart D.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Elizabeth_Solopova">Solopova, Elizabeth</a> (2005). <i>The Keys of Middle-earth: Discovering Medieval Literature through the Fiction of J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. Palgrave Macmillan. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-4039-4671-3"><bdi>978-1-4039-4671-3</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Joseph_Pearce">Pearce, Joseph</a> (1998). <i>Tolkien: Man and Myth</i>. London: HarperCollins. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-00-274018-0"><bdi>978-0-00-274018-0</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Perry, Michael (2006). <i>Untangling Tolkien: A Chronology and Commentary for The Lord of the Rings</i>. Seattle: Inkling Books. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-58742-019-1"><bdi>978-1-58742-019-1</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Ready, William (1968). <i>Understanding Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings</i>. New York: Paperback Library.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Rorabeck, Robert (2008). <i>Tolkien's Heroic Quest</i>. Crescent Moon. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-86171-239-4"><bdi>978-1-86171-239-4</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Christina_Scull">Scull, Christina</a>; <a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Hammond, Wayne G.</a> (2017). <a href="/wiki/The_J.R.R._Tolkien_Companion_and_Guide"><i>The J.R.R. Tolkien Companion and Guide</i></a> (Revised and expanded ed.). London: HarperCollins. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-00-821454-8"><bdi>978-0-00-821454-8</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Shippey, Tom</a> (2000). <i><a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien:_Author_of_the_Century">J. R. R. Tolkien: Author of the Century</a></i>. Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-618-12764-1"><bdi>978-0-618-12764-1</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Strachey, Barbara (1981). <a href="/wiki/Journeys_of_Frodo"><i>Journeys of Frodo: an Atlas of The Lord of the Rings</i></a>. London, Boston: Allen &amp; Unwin. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-04-912016-7"><bdi>978-0-04-912016-7</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Tolkien, John &amp; Priscilla (1992). <i>The Tolkien Family Album</i>. London: HarperCollins. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-261-10239-2"><bdi>978-0-261-10239-2</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Tyler, J. E. A. (1976). <a href="https://archive.org/details/tolkiencompanion00jeat"><i>The Tolkien Companion</i></a>. New York: Gramercy. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-517-14648-4"><bdi>978-0-517-14648-4</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>White, Michael (2003). <i>Tolkien: A Biography</i>. New American Library. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-451-21242-9"><bdi>978-0-451-21242-9</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite>Zaleski, Philip; Zaleski, Carol (2016). <i>The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams</i>. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-374-53625-1"><bdi>978-0-374-53625-1</bdi></a>.</cite></li></ul>
</div>
<h2>External links</h2>
<div><p></p><p><a href="/wiki/File:En-J._R._R._Tolkien-article.ogg">This audio file</a> was created from a revision of this article dated 26 January 2022, and does not reflect subsequent edits.</p></div>
<ul><li><a href="http://www.tolkien.co.uk/">HarperCollins Tolkien Website</a></li>
<li><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20140714122905/http://www.wheaton.edu/wadecenter/Authors/JRR-Tolkien/JRRT-Resources">Additional Resources for J. R. R. Tolkien</a> compiled by the <a href="/wiki/Marion_E._Wade_Center">Marion E. Wade Center</a></li>
<li><cite>"Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel". <i><a href="/wiki/Dictionary_of_National_Biography#Oxford_Dictionary_of_National_Biography">Oxford Dictionary of National Biography</a></i> (online ed.). Oxford University Press. <a href="/wiki/Doi_(identifier)">doi</a>:<a href="https://doi.org/10.1093%2Fref%3Aodnb%2F31766">10.1093/ref:odnb/31766</a>.</cite> (Subscription or <a href="https://www.oxforddnb.com/help/subscribe#public">UK public library membership</a> required.)</li>
<li><a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0866058/">J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at <a href="/wiki/IMDb">IMDb</a></li>
<li><a href="https://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/ea.cgi?302">J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at the <a href="/wiki/Internet_Speculative_Fiction_Database">Internet Speculative Fiction Database</a></li>
<li><a href="https://library.leeds.ac.uk/special-collections-explore/376715">Archival material at Leeds University Library</a></li>
<li><a href="http://sounds.bl.uk/Arts-literature-and-performance/Early-spoken-word-recordings/024M-1CS0011556XX-0200V0">Audio recording of Tolkien</a> from 1929 on a language learning gramophone disc</li>
<li><a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/archive/writers/12237.shtml">BBC film (1968) featuring Tolkien</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.tolkiensociety.org/author/biography/">Biography at the Tolkien Society</a></li>
<li><a href="https://sf-encyclopedia.com/fe/tolkien_j_r_r">J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at <i><a href="/wiki/The_Encyclopedia_of_Fantasy">The Encyclopedia of Fantasy</a></i></li>
<li><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/http://www.iblist.com/author54.htm">J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at the Internet Book List</li>
<li><a href="https://sf-encyclopedia.com/entry/tolkien_j_r_r">J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at <i><a href="/wiki/The_Encyclopedia_of_Science_Fiction">The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction</a></i></li>
<li><a href="http://inklings-studies.org/"><i>Journal of Inklings Studies</i></a>—Peer-reviewed journal on Tolkien's literary circle, based at Oxford</li>
<li><a href="https://www.tolkienestate.com/">The Tolkien Estate Website</a></li>
<li><a href="https://tolkien.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/">Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth</a> exhibition at the Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford</li>
<li><a href="https://librivox.org/author/1536">Works by J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at <a href="/wiki/LibriVox">LibriVox</a> (public domain audiobooks) </li>
<li><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/author/Tolkien,+John+Ronald+Reuel">Works by J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at <a href="/wiki/Project_Gutenberg">Project Gutenberg</a></li>
<li><a href="https://archive.org/search.php?query=%28%28subject%3A%22Tolkien%2C%20J.%20R.%20R.%22%20OR%20subject%3A%22J.%20R.%20R.%20Tolkien%22%20OR%20creator%3A%22Tolkien%2C%20J.%20R.%20R.%22%20OR%20creator%3A%22J.%20R.%20R.%20Tolkien%22%20OR%20creator%3A%22Tolkien%2C%20J%2E%20R%2E%20R%2E%22%20OR%20title%3A%22J.%20R.%20R.%20Tolkien%22%20OR%20description%3A%22J.%20R.%20R.%20Tolkien%22%29%20OR%20%28%221892-1973%22%20AND%20Tolkien%29%29%20AND%20%28-mediatype:software%29">Works by or about J. R. R. Tolkien</a> at <a href="/wiki/Internet_Archive">Internet Archive</a></li></ul>
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 Contents

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 * (Top)
 * 1 Biography
 + 1.1 Ancestry
 + 1.2 Childhood
 + 1.3 Youth
 + 1.4 Courtship and marriage
 + 1.5 First World War
 o 1.5.1 France
 o 1.5.2 Battle of the Somme
 o 1.5.3 Home front
 + 1.6 Academic and writing career
 o 1.6.1 Beowulf
 o 1.6.2 Second World War
 + 1.7 Family
 + 1.8 Retirement
 + 1.9 Final years
 * 2 Views
 + 2.1 Religion
 + 2.2 Race
 + 2.3 Nature
 * 3 Writing
 + 3.1 Influences
 + 3.2 Publications
 o 3.2.1 "Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics"
 o 3.2.2 "On Fairy-Stories"
 o 3.2.3 Children's books and other short works
 o 3.2.4 The Hobbit
 o 3.2.5 The Lord of the Rings
 o 3.2.6 The Silmarillion
 o 3.2.7 Unfinished Tales and The History of Middle-earth
 o 3.2.8 Works compiled by Christopher Tolkien
 + 3.3 Manuscript locations
 * 4 Languages and philology
 + 4.1 Linguistic career
 + 4.2 Language construction
 * 5 Artwork
 * 6 Legacy
 + 6.1 Influence
 + 6.2 Adaptations
 + 6.3 Memorials
 + 6.4 Canonization process
 * 7 Notes
 * 8 References
 + 8.1 Primary
 + 8.2 Secondary
 * 9 Sources
 * 10 Further reading
 * 11 External links
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 J. R. R. Tolkien

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 From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 "Tolkien" redirects here. For other uses, see Tolkien (disambiguation).

 J. R. R. Tolkien 
 CBE FRSL 
 Tolkien in the 1920s
 John Ronald Reuel Tolkien 
 Born 3 January 1892 
 Bloemfontein, Orange Free State 
 Died 2 September 1973 (aged 81) 
 Bournemouth, Hampshire, England 
 * Author 
 Occupation * academic 
 * philologist 
 * poet 
 Alma mater Exeter College, Oxford 
 * Fantasy 
 * high fantasy 
 Genre * mythopoeia 
 * translation 
 * literary criticism 
 Edith Bratt 
 Spouse ​ 
 ​(m. 1916 ; died 1971 )​ 
 * John Francis 
 Children * Michael Hilary 
 * Christopher John 
 * Priscilla Anne 
 Relatives Tolkien family 
 Signature 
 
 
 Military career 
 Allegiance King George V 
 Branch British Army 
 Years 1915–1920 
 Rank Lieutenant 
 Unit Lancashire Fusiliers 
 * World War I 
 + Battle of the Somme 
 Battles + Capture of Schwaben Redoubt 
 + Capture of Leipzig Salient 
 + Capture of Regina Trench (WIA)
 
 

 John Ronald Reuel Tolkien CBE FRSL (/ ˈ r uː l ˈ t ɒ l k iː n /, ROOL TOL -keen;[a] 3 January 1892 – 2 September 1973) was an English writer and philologist. He was the author of the high fantasy works The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

 From 1925 to 1945, Tolkien was the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon and a Fellow of Pembroke College, both at the University of Oxford. He then moved within the same university to become the Merton Professor of English Language and Literature and Fellow of Merton College, and held these positions from 1945 until his retirement in 1959. Tolkien was a close friend of C. S. Lewis, a co-member of the informal literary discussion group The Inklings. He was appointed a Commander of the Order of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth II on 28 March 1972.

 After Tolkien's death, his son Christopher published a series of works based on his father's extensive notes and unpublished manuscripts, including The Silmarillion. These, together with The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, form a connected body of tales, poems, fictional histories, invented languages, and literary essays about a fantasy world called Arda and, within it, Middle-earth. Between 1951 and 1955, Tolkien applied the term legendarium to the larger part of these writings.

 While many other authors had published works of fantasy before Tolkien, the great success of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings led directly to a popular resurgence of the genre. This has caused him to be popularly identified as the "father" of modern fantasy literature—or, more precisely, of high fantasy.

 Biography

 Ancestry

 Main article: Tolkien family

 Tolkien's immediate paternal ancestors were middle-class craftsmen who made and sold clocks, watches and pianos in London and Birmingham. The Tolkien family originated in the East Prussian town of Kreuzburg near Königsberg, which had been founded during medieval German eastward expansion, where his earliest-known paternal ancestor Michel Tolkien was born around 1620. Michel's son Christianus Tolkien (1663–1746) was a wealthy miller in Kreuzburg.[3]

 His son, Christian Tolkien (1706–1791), moved from Kreuzburg to nearby Danzig, and his two sons Daniel Gottlieb Tolkien (1747–1813) and Johann (later known as John) Benjamin Tolkien (1752–1819) emigrated to London in the 1770s and became the ancestors of the English family; the younger brother was J. R. R. Tolkien's second great-grandfather. In 1792, John Benjamin Tolkien and William Gravell took over the Erdley Norton manufacture in London, which from then on sold clocks and watches under the name Gravell & Tolkien. Daniel Gottlieb obtained British citizenship in 1794, but John Benjamin apparently never became a British citizen. Other German relatives also joined the two brothers in London. Several people with the surname Tolkien or similar spelling, some of them members of the same family as J. R. R. Tolkien, live in northern Germany, but most of them are descendants of people who evacuated East Prussia in 1945, at the end of World War II.[4][3][5]

 According to Ryszard Derdziński, the Tolkien name is of Low Prussian origin and probably means "son/descendant of Tolk".[4][3] Tolkien mistakenly believed his surname derived from the German word tollkühn, meaning "foolhardy",[6] and jokingly inserted himself as a "cameo" into The Notion Club Papers under the literally translated name Rashbold.[7] However, Derdziński has demonstrated this to be a false etymology. While J. R. R. Tolkien was aware of his family's German origin, his knowledge of the family's history was limited because he was "early isolated from the family of his prematurely deceased father".[4][3]

 Childhood

 1892 Christmas card with a coloured photo of the Tolkien family in Bloemfontein, sent to relatives in Birmingham, England

 John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was born on 3 January 1892 in Bloemfontein in the Orange Free State (later annexed by the British Empire; now Free State Province in the Republic of South Africa), to Arthur Reuel Tolkien (1857–1896), an English bank manager, and his wife Mabel, née Suffield (1870–1904). The couple had left England when Arthur was promoted to head the Bloemfontein office of the British bank for which he worked. Tolkien had one sibling, his younger brother, Hilary Arthur Reuel Tolkien, who was born on 17 February 1894.[8]

 As a child, Tolkien was bitten by a large baboon spider in the garden, an event some believe to have been later echoed in his stories, although he admitted no actual memory of the event and no special hatred of spiders as an adult. In an earlier incident from Tolkien's infancy, a young family servant took the baby to his homestead, returning him the next morning.[9]

 When he was three, he went to England with his mother and brother on what was intended to be a lengthy family visit. His father, however, died in South Africa of rheumatic fever before he could join them.[10] This left the family without an income, so Tolkien's mother took him to live with her parents in Kings Heath,[11] Birmingham. Soon after, in 1896, they moved to Sarehole (now in Hall Green), then a Worcestershire village, later annexed to Birmingham.[12] He enjoyed exploring Sarehole Mill and Moseley Bog and the Clent, Lickey and Malvern Hills, which would later inspire scenes in his books, along with nearby towns and villages such as Bromsgrove, Alcester, and Alvechurch and places such as his aunt Jane's farm Bag End, the name of which he used in his fiction.[13]

 Birmingham Oratory, where Tolkien was a parishioner and altar boy (1902–1911)

 Mabel Tolkien taught her two children at home. Ronald, as he was known in the family, was a keen pupil.[14] She taught him a great deal of botany and awakened in him the enjoyment of the look and feel of plants. Young Tolkien liked to draw landscapes and trees, but his favourite lessons were those concerning languages, and his mother taught him the rudiments of Latin very early.[15]

 Tolkien could read by the age of four and could write fluently soon afterwards. His mother allowed him to read many books. He disliked Treasure Island and "The Pied Piper" and thought Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll was "amusing but disturbing". He liked stories about "Red Indians" (Native Americans) and works of fantasy by George MacDonald.[16] In addition, the "Fairy Books" of Andrew Lang were particularly important to him and their influence is apparent in some of his later writings.[17]

 King Edward's School in Birmingham, where Tolkien was a pupil (1900–1902, 1903–1911)[18]

 Mabel Tolkien was received into the Roman Catholic Church in 1900 despite vehement protests by her Baptist family,[19] which stopped all financial assistance to her. In 1904, when J. R. R. Tolkien was 12, his mother died of acute diabetes at Fern Cottage in Rednal, which she was renting. She was then about 34 years of age, about as old as a person with diabetes mellitus type 1 could survive without treatment—insulin would not be discovered until 1921, two decades later. Nine years after her death, Tolkien wrote, "My own dear mother was a martyr indeed, and it is not to everybody that God grants so easy a way to his great gifts as he did to Hilary and myself, giving us a mother who killed herself with labour and trouble to ensure us keeping the faith."[19]

 Before her death, Mabel Tolkien had assigned the guardianship of her sons to her close friend, Father Francis Xavier Morgan of the Birmingham Oratory, who was assigned to bring them up as good Catholics.[20] In a 1965 letter to his son Michael, Tolkien recalled the influence of the man whom he always called "Father Francis": "He was an upper-class Welsh-Spaniard Tory, and seemed to some just a pottering old gossip. He was—and he was not. I first learned charity and forgiveness from him; and in the light of it pierced even the 'liberal' darkness out of which I came, knowing more about 'Bloody Mary' than the Mother of Jesus—who was never mentioned except as an object of wicked worship by the Romanists."[T 1] After his mother's death, Tolkien grew up in the Edgbaston area of Birmingham and attended King Edward's School, Birmingham, and later St Philip's School. In 1903, he won a Foundation Scholarship and returned to King Edward's.[21]

 Youth

 While in his early teens, Tolkien had his first encounter with a constructed language, Animalic, an invention of his cousins, Mary and Marjorie Incledon. At that time, he was studying Latin and Anglo-Saxon. Their interest in Animalic soon died away, but Mary and others, including Tolkien himself, invented a new and more complex language called Nevbosh. The next constructed language he came to work with, Naffarin, would be his own creation.[22][23] Tolkien learned Esperanto some time before 1909. Around 10 June 1909 he composed "The Book of the Foxrook", a sixteen-page notebook, where the "earliest example of one of his invented alphabets" appears.[24] Short texts in this notebook are written in Esperanto.[25]

 In 1911, while they were at King Edward's School, Tolkien and three friends, Rob Gilson, Geoffrey Bache Smith, and Christopher Wiseman, formed a semi-secret society they called the T.C.B.S. The initials stood for Tea Club and Barrovian Society, alluding to their fondness for drinking tea in Barrow's Stores near the school and, secretly, in the school library.[26][27] After leaving school, the members stayed in touch and, in December 1914, they held a council in London at Wiseman's home. For Tolkien, the result of this meeting was a strong dedication to writing poetry.[ citation needed ]

 In 1911, Tolkien went on a summer holiday in Switzerland, a trip that he recollects vividly in a 1968 letter,[T 2] noting that Bilbo's journey across the Misty Mountains ("including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods") is directly based on his adventures as their party of 12 hiked from Interlaken to Lauterbrunnen and on to camp in the moraines beyond Mürren. Fifty-seven years later, Tolkien remembered his regret at leaving the view of the eternal snows of Jungfrau and Silberhorn, "the Silvertine (Celebdil) of my dreams". They went across the Kleine Scheidegg to Grindelwald and on across the Grosse Scheidegg to Meiringen. They continued across the Grimsel Pass, through the upper Valais to Brig and on to the Aletsch glacier and Zermatt.[28]

 In October of the same year, Tolkien began studying at Exeter College, Oxford. He initially read classics but changed his course in 1913 to English language and literature, graduating in 1915 with first-class honours.[29] Among his tutors at Oxford was Joseph Wright, whose Primer of the Gothic Language had inspired Tolkien as a schoolboy.[30]

 Courtship and marriage

 At the age of 16, Tolkien met Edith Mary Bratt, who was three years his senior, when he and his brother Hilary moved into the boarding house where she lived in Duchess Road, Edgbaston. According to Humphrey Carpenter, "Edith and Ronald took to frequenting Birmingham teashops, especially one which had a balcony overlooking the pavement. There they would sit and throw sugarlumps into the hats of passers-by, moving to the next table when the sugar bowl was empty. ... With two people of their personalities and in their position, romance was bound to flourish. Both were orphans in need of affection, and they found that they could give it to each other. During the summer of 1909, they decided that they were in love."[31]

 His guardian, Father Morgan, considered it "altogether unfortunate"[T 3] that his surrogate son was romantically involved with an older, Protestant woman; Tolkien wrote that the combined tensions contributed to his having "muffed [his] exams".[T 3] Morgan prohibited him from meeting, talking to, or even corresponding with Edith until he was 21. Tolkien obeyed this prohibition to the letter,[32] with one notable early exception, over which Father Morgan threatened to cut short his university career if he did not stop.[33]

 On the evening of his 21st birthday, Tolkien wrote to Edith, who was living with family friend C. H. Jessop at Cheltenham. He declared that he had never ceased to love her, and asked her to marry him. Edith replied that she had already accepted the proposal of George Field, the brother of one of her closest school friends. But Edith said she had agreed to marry Field only because she felt "on the shelf" and had begun to doubt that Tolkien still cared for her. She explained that, because of Tolkien's letter, everything had changed.[34]

 On 8 January 1913, Tolkien travelled by train to Cheltenham and was met on the platform by Edith. The two took a walk into the countryside, sat under a railway viaduct, and talked. By the end of the day, Edith had agreed to accept Tolkien's proposal. She wrote to Field and returned her engagement ring. Field was "dreadfully upset at first", and the Field family was "insulted and angry".[34] Upon learning of Edith's new plans, Jessop wrote to her guardian, "I have nothing to say against Tolkien, he is a cultured gentleman, but his prospects are poor in the extreme, and when he will be in a position to marry I cannot imagine. Had he adopted a profession it would have been different."[35]

 Following their engagement, Edith reluctantly announced that she was converting to Catholicism at Tolkien's insistence. Jessop, "like many others of his age and class ... strongly anti-Catholic", was infuriated, and he ordered Edith to find other lodgings.[36]

 Edith Bratt and Ronald Tolkien were formally engaged at Birmingham in January 1913, and married at St Mary Immaculate Catholic Church at Warwick, on 22 March 1916.[37] In his 1941 letter to Michael, Tolkien expressed admiration for his wife's willingness to marry a man with no job, little money, and no prospects except the likelihood of being killed in the Great War.[T 3]

 First World War

 In August 1914, Britain entered the First World War. Tolkien's relatives were shocked when he elected not to volunteer immediately for the British Army. In a 1941 letter to his son Michael, Tolkien recalled: "In those days chaps joined up, or were scorned publicly. It was a nasty cleft to be in for a young man with too much imagination and little physical courage."[T 3] Instead, Tolkien, "endured the obloquy",[T 3] and entered a programme by which he delayed enlistment until completing his degree. By the time he passed his finals in July 1915, Tolkien recalled that the hints were "becoming outspoken from relatives".[T 3] He was commissioned as a temporary second lieutenant in the Lancashire Fusiliers on 15 July 1915.[38][39] He trained with the 13th (Reserve) Battalion on Cannock Chase, Rugeley Camp near to Rugeley, Staffordshire, for 11 months. In a letter to Edith, Tolkien complained: "Gentlemen are rare among the superiors, and even human beings rare indeed."[40] Following their wedding, Lieutenant and Mrs. Tolkien took up lodgings near the training camp.[38] On 2 June 1916, Tolkien received a telegram summoning him to Folkestone for posting to France. The Tolkiens spent the night before his departure in a room at the Plough & Harrow Hotel in Edgbaston, Birmingham.[41] He later wrote: "Junior officers were being killed off, a dozen a minute. Parting from my wife then... it was like a death."[42]

 France

 On 5 June 1916, Tolkien boarded a troop transport for an overnight voyage to Calais. Like other soldiers arriving for the first time, he was sent to the British Expeditionary Force's (BEF) base depot at Étaples. On 7 June, he was informed that he had been assigned as a signals officer to the 11th (Service) Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers. The battalion was part of the 74th Brigade, 25th Division. While waiting to be summoned to his unit, Tolkien sank into boredom. To pass the time, he composed a poem entitled The Lonely Isle, which was inspired by his feelings during the sea crossing to Calais. To evade the British Army's postal censorship, he developed a code of dots by which Edith could track his movements.[43] He left Étaples on 27 June 1916 and joined his battalion at Rubempré, near Amiens.[44] He found himself commanding enlisted men who were drawn mainly from the mining, milling, and weaving towns of Lancashire.[45] According to John Garth, he "felt an affinity for these working class men", but military protocol prohibited friendships with "other ranks". Instead, he was required to "take charge of them, discipline them, train them, and probably censor their letters ... If possible, he was supposed to inspire their love and loyalty."[46] Tolkien later lamented, "The most improper job of any man ... is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity."[46]

 Battle of the Somme

 The Schwaben Redoubt, painting by William Orpen. Imperial War Museum, London

 Tolkien arrived at the Somme in early July 1916. In between terms behind the lines at Bouzincourt, he participated in the assaults on the Schwaben Redoubt and the Leipzig salient. Tolkien's time in combat was a terrible stress for Edith, who feared that every knock on the door might carry news of her husband's death. Edith could track her husband's movements on a map of the Western Front. The Reverend Mervyn S. Evers, Anglican chaplain to the Lancashire Fusiliers, recorded that Tolkien and his fellow officers were eaten by "hordes of lice" which found the Medical Officer's ointment merely "a kind of hors d'oeuvre and the little beggars went at their feast with renewed vigour."[47] On 27 October 1916, as his battalion attacked Regina Trench, Tolkien contracted trench fever, a disease carried by lice. He was invalided to England on 8 November 1916.[48] Many of his dearest school friends were killed in the war. Among their number were Rob Gilson of the Tea Club and Barrovian Society, who was killed on the first day of the Somme while leading his men in the assault on Beaumont Hamel. Fellow T.C.B.S. member Geoffrey Smith was killed during the battle, when a German artillery shell landed on a first-aid post. Tolkien's battalion was almost completely wiped out following his return to England.[49]

 Men of the 1st Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers in a communication trench near Beaumont Hamel, 1916. Photo by Ernest Brooks

 According to John Garth, Kitchener's Army, in which Tolkien served, at once marked existing social boundaries and counteracted the class system by throwing everyone into a desperate situation together. Tolkien was grateful, writing that it had taught him "a deep sympathy and feeling for the Tommy; especially the plain soldier from the agricultural counties".[50]

 Home front

 Further information: The Great War and Middle-earth

 A weak and emaciated Tolkien spent the remainder of the war alternating between hospitals and garrison duties, being deemed medically unfit for general service.[51][52][53] During his recovery in a cottage in Little Haywood, Staffordshire, he began to work on what he called The Book of Lost Tales, beginning with The Fall of Gondolin. Lost Tales represented Tolkien's attempt to create a mythology for England, a project he would abandon without ever completing.[54] Throughout 1917 and 1918 his illness kept recurring, but he had recovered enough to do home service at various camps. It was at this time that Edith bore their first child, John Francis Reuel Tolkien. In a 1941 letter, Tolkien described his son John as "(conceived and carried during the starvation-year of 1917 and the great U-Boat campaign) round about the Battle of Cambrai, when the end of the war seemed as far off as it does now".[T 3] Tolkien was promoted to the temporary rank of lieutenant on 6 January 1918.[55] When he was stationed at Kingston upon Hull, he and Edith went walking in the woods at nearby Roos, and Edith began to dance for him in a clearing among the flowering hemlock. After his wife's death in 1971, Tolkien remembered,[T 4]

 I never called Edith Luthien—but she was the source of the story that in time became the chief part of the Silmarillion. It was first conceived in a small woodland glade filled with hemlocks[56] at Roos in Yorkshire (where I was for a brief time in command of an outpost of the Humber Garrison in 1917, and she was able to live with me for a while). In those days her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes brighter than you have seen them, and she could sing—and dance. But the story has gone crooked, & I am left, and I cannot plead before the inexorable Mandos.[T 4]

 On 16 July 1919, Tolkien was taken off active service, at Fovant, on Salisbury Plain, with a temporary disability pension.[57]

 Academic and writing career

 2 Darnley Road, the former home of Tolkien in West Park, Leeds
 20 Northmoor Road, one of Tolkien's former homes in Oxford

 On 3 November 1920, Tolkien was demobilized and left the army, retaining his rank of lieutenant.[58] His first civilian job after World War I was at the Oxford English Dictionary, where he worked mainly on the history and etymology of words of Germanic origin beginning with the letter W.[59] In 1920, he took up a post as reader in English language at the University of Leeds, becoming the youngest member of the academic staff there.[60] While at Leeds, he produced A Middle English Vocabulary and a definitive edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight with E. V. Gordon; both became academic standard works for several decades. He translated Sir Gawain, Pearl, and Sir Orfeo. In 1925, he returned to Oxford as Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon, with a fellowship at Pembroke College.[ citation needed ]

 In mid-1919, he began to tutor undergraduates privately, most importantly those of Lady Margaret Hall and St Hugh's College, given that the women's colleges were in great need of good teachers in their early years, and Tolkien as a married professor (then still not common) was considered suitable, as a bachelor don would not have been.[61]

 During his time at Pembroke College Tolkien wrote The Hobbit and the first two volumes of The Lord of the Rings, while living at 20 Northmoor Road in North Oxford. He also published a philological essay in 1932 on the name "Nodens", following Sir Mortimer Wheeler's unearthing of a Roman Asclepeion at Lydney Park, Gloucestershire, in 1928.[62]

 Beowulf

 Further information: Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary and On Translating Beowulf

 In the 1920s, Tolkien undertook a translation of Beowulf, which he finished in 1926, but did not publish. It was finally edited by his son and published in 2014, more than 40 years after Tolkien's death and almost 90 years after its completion.[63]

 Ten years after finishing his translation, Tolkien gave a highly acclaimed lecture on the work, "Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics", which had a lasting influence on Beowulf research.[64] Lewis E. Nicholson said that the article is "widely recognized as a turning point in Beowulfian criticism", noting that Tolkien established the primacy of the poetic nature of the work as opposed to its purely linguistic elements.[65] At the time, the consensus of scholarship deprecated Beowulf for dealing with childish battles with monsters rather than realistic tribal warfare; Tolkien argued that the author of Beowulf was addressing human destiny in general, not as limited by particular tribal politics, and therefore the monsters were essential to the poem.[66] Where Beowulf does deal with specific tribal struggles, as at Finnsburg, Tolkien argued firmly against reading in fantastic elements.[67] In the essay, Tolkien also revealed how highly he regarded Beowulf: "Beowulf is among my most valued sources"; this influence may be seen throughout his Middle-earth legendarium.[68]

 According to Humphrey Carpenter, Tolkien began his series of lectures on Beowulf in a most striking way, entering the room silently, fixing the audience with a look, and suddenly declaiming in Old English the opening lines of the poem, starting "with a great cry of Hwæt!" It was a dramatic impersonation of an Anglo-Saxon bard in a mead hall, and it made the students realize that Beowulf was not just a set text but "a powerful piece of dramatic poetry".[69] Decades later, W. H. Auden wrote to his former professor, thanking him for the "unforgettable experience" of hearing him recite Beowulf, and stating "The voice was the voice of Gandalf".[69]

 Second World War

 Merton College, where Tolkien was Professor of English Language and Literature (1945–1959)

 In the run-up to the Second World War, Tolkien was earmarked as a codebreaker. In January 1939, he was asked to serve in the cryptographic department of the Foreign Office in the event of national emergency. Beginning on 27 March, he took an instructional course at the London HQ of the Government Code and Cypher School. He was informed in October that his services would not be required.[70][T 5][71]

 In 1945, Tolkien moved to Merton College, Oxford, becoming the Merton Professor of English Language and Literature,[72] in which post he remained until his retirement in 1959. He served as an external examiner for University College, Galway (now NUI Galway), for many years.[73] In 1954 Tolkien received an honorary degree from the National University of Ireland (of which University College, Galway, was a constituent college).[74] Tolkien completed The Lord of the Rings in 1948, close to a decade after the first sketches.[75]

 Family

 Main article: Tolkien family

 The Tolkiens had four children: John Francis Reuel Tolkien (17 November 1917 – 22 January 2003), Michael Hilary Reuel Tolkien (22 October 1920 – 27 February 1984), Christopher John Reuel Tolkien (21 November 1924 – 16 January 2020) and Priscilla Mary Anne Reuel Tolkien (18 June 1929 – 28 February 2022).[76][77] Tolkien was very devoted to his children and sent them illustrated letters from Father Christmas when they were young.[78]

 Retirement

 Bust of Tolkien in the chapel of Exeter College, Oxford

 During his life in retirement, from 1959 up to his death in 1973, Tolkien received steadily increasing public attention and literary fame. In 1961, his friend C. S. Lewis even nominated him for the Nobel Prize in Literature.[79] The sales of his books were so profitable that he regretted that he had not chosen early retirement.[15] In a 1972 letter, he deplored having become a cult-figure, but admitted that "even the nose of a very modest idol ... cannot remain entirely untickled by the sweet smell of incense!"[T 6]

 Fan attention became so intense that Tolkien had to take his phone number out of the public directory,[T 7] and eventually he and Edith moved to Bournemouth, which was then a seaside resort patronized by the British upper middle class. Tolkien's status as a best-selling author gave them easy entry into polite society, but Tolkien deeply missed the company of his fellow Inklings. Edith, however, was overjoyed to step into the role of a society hostess, which had been the reason that Tolkien selected Bournemouth in the first place. The genuine and deep affection between Ronald and Edith was demonstrated by their care about the other's health, in details like wrapping presents, in the generous way he gave up his life at Oxford so she could retire to Bournemouth, and in her pride in his becoming a famous author. They were tied together, too, by love for their children and grandchildren.[80]

 In his retirement Tolkien was a consultant and translator for The Jerusalem Bible, published in 1966. He was initially assigned a larger portion to translate, but, due to other commitments, only managed to offer some criticisms of other contributors and a translation of the Book of Jonah.[T 8]

 Final years

 The grave of J. R. R. and Edith Tolkien, Wolvercote Cemetery, Oxford

 Edith died on 29 November 1971, at the age of 82. Ronald returned to Oxford, where Merton College gave him convenient rooms near the High Street. He missed Edith, but enjoyed being back in the city.[81]

 Tolkien was made a Commander of the Order of the British Empire in the 1972 New Year Honours[82] and received the insignia of the Order at Buckingham Palace on 28 March 1972.[T 9] In the same year Oxford University gave him an honorary Doctorate of Letters.[29][83]

 He had the name Luthien [sic] engraved on Edith's tombstone at Wolvercote Cemetery, Oxford. When Tolkien died 21 months later on 2 September 1973 from a bleeding ulcer and chest infection,[84] at the age of 81,[85] he was buried in the same grave, with "Beren" added to his name. Tolkien's will was proven on 20 December 1973, with his estate valued at £190,577 (equivalent to £2,452,000 in 2021).[86][87]

 Views

 The Corner of the Eagle and Child Pub, Oxford, where the Inklings met (1930–1950)

 Religion

 "Tolkien's Christianity" redirects here. Not to be confused with Christianity in Middle-earth.

 Tolkien's Catholicism was a significant factor in C. S. Lewis's conversion from atheism to Christianity, although Tolkien was dismayed that Lewis chose to join the Church of England.[88] He once wrote to Rayner Unwin's daughter Camilla, who wished to know the purpose of life, that it was "to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks."[89] He had a special devotion to the blessed sacrament, writing to his son Michael that in "the Blessed Sacrament ... you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth, and more than that".[T 3] He accordingly encouraged frequent reception of Holy Communion, again writing to his son Michael that "the only cure for sagging of fainting faith is Communion." He believed the Catholic Church to be true most of all because of the pride of place and the honour in which it holds the Blessed Sacrament.[T 10] In the last years of his life, Tolkien resisted the liturgical changes implemented after the Second Vatican Council, especially the use of English for the liturgy; he continued to make the responses in Latin, loudly, ignoring the rest of the congregation.[81]

 Race

 Main article: Tolkien and race

 Tolkien's fantasy writings have often been accused of embodying outmoded attitudes to race.[90][91] However, scholars have noted that he was influenced by Victorian attitudes to race and to a literary tradition of monsters, and that he was anti-racist both in peacetime and during the two World Wars. With the late 19th century background of eugenics and a fear of moral decline, some critics saw the mention of race mixing in The Lord of the Rings as embodying scientific racism.[92] Other commentators saw in Tolkien's orcs a reflection of wartime propaganda caricatures of the Japanese.[93] Critics have noted, too, that the work embodies a moral geography, with good in the West, evil in the East.[94] Against this, scholars have noted that Tolkien was outraged in peacetime by Nazi racial theory, while during the Second World War he was equally disgusted by anti-German racial propaganda.[95][96] Other scholars have stated that Tolkien's Middle-earth is definitely polycultural and polylingual, and that attacks on Tolkien based on The Lord of the Rings often omit relevant evidence from the text.[97][98]

 Nature

 During most of his own life conservationism was not yet on the political agenda, and Tolkien himself did not directly express conservationist views—except in some private letters, in which he tells about his fondness for forests and sadness at tree-felling. In later years, a number of authors of biographies or literary analyses of Tolkien conclude that during his writing of The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien gained increased interest in the value of wild and untamed nature, and in protecting what wild nature was left in the industrialized world.[99][100][101]

 Writing

 Influences

 Main article: J. R. R. Tolkien's influences

 Tolkien's fantasy books on Middle-earth, especially The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion, drew on a wide array of influences including his philological interest in language,[102] Christianity,[103][104] medievalism,[105] mythology, archaeology,[106] ancient and modern literature, and personal experience. His philological work centred on the study of Old English literature, especially Beowulf, and he acknowledged its importance to his writings.[107] He was a gifted linguist, influenced by Germanic,[108] Celtic,[109] Finnish,[110] and Greek[111][112] language and mythology. Commentators have attempted to identify many literary and topological antecedents for characters, places and events in Tolkien's writings. Some writers were important to him, including the Arts and Crafts polymath William Morris,[113] and he undoubtedly made use of some real place-names, such as Bag End, the name of his aunt's home.[114] He acknowledged, too, John Buchan and H. Rider Haggard, authors of modern adventure stories that he enjoyed.[115][116][117] The effects of some specific experiences have been identified. Tolkien's childhood in the English countryside, and its urbanization by the growth of Birmingham, influenced his creation of the Shire,[118] while his personal experience of fighting in the trenches of the First World War affected his depiction of Mordor.[119]

 Publications

 Further information: J. R. R. Tolkien bibliography

 " Beowulf : The Monsters and the Critics"

 Main article: Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics

 In addition to writing fiction, Tolkien was an author of academic literary criticism. His seminal 1936 lecture, later published as an article, revolutionized the treatment of the Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf by literary critics. The essay remains highly influential in the study of Old English literature to this day.[120] Beowulf is one of the most significant influences upon Tolkien's later fiction, with major details of both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings being adapted from the poem.[121]

 "On Fairy-Stories"

 Main article: On Fairy-Stories

 This essay discusses the fairy-story as a literary form. It was initially written as the 1939 Andrew Lang Lecture at the University of St Andrews, Scotland. Tolkien focuses on Andrew Lang's work as a folklorist and collector of fairy tales. He disagreed with Lang's broad inclusion, in his Fairy Book collections, of traveller's tales, beast fables, and other types of stories. Tolkien held a narrower perspective, viewing fairy stories as those that took place in Faerie, an enchanted realm, with or without fairies as characters. He viewed them as the natural development of the interaction of human imagination and human language.[122]

 Children's books and other short works

 In addition to his mythopoeic compositions, Tolkien enjoyed inventing fantasy stories to entertain his children.[123] He wrote annual Christmas letters from Father Christmas for them, building up a series of short stories (later compiled and published as The Father Christmas Letters).[124] Other works included Mr. Bliss and Roverandom (for children), and Leaf by Niggle (part of Tree and Leaf), The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, Smith of Wootton Major and Farmer Giles of Ham. Roverandom and Smith of Wootton Major, like The Hobbit, borrowed ideas from his legendarium.[125]

 The Hobbit

 Main article: The Hobbit

 Tolkien never expected his stories to become popular, but by sheer accident a book called The Hobbit, which he had written some years before for his own children, came in 1936 to the attention of Susan Dagnall, an employee of the London publishing firm George Allen & Unwin, who persuaded Tolkien to submit it for publication.[85] When it was published a year later, the book attracted adult readers as well as children, and it became popular enough for the publishers to ask Tolkien to produce a sequel.[126]

 The Lord of the Rings

 Main article: The Lord of the Rings

 The request for a sequel prompted Tolkien to begin what became his most famous work: the epic novel The Lord of the Rings (originally published in three volumes in 1954–1955). Tolkien spent more than ten years writing the primary narrative and appendices for The Lord of the Rings, during which time he received the constant support of the Inklings, in particular his closest friend C. S. Lewis, the author of The Chronicles of Narnia. Both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are set against the background of The Silmarillion, but in a time long after it.[127]

 Tolkien at first intended The Lord of the Rings to be a children's tale in the style of The Hobbit, but it quickly grew darker and more serious in the writing.[128] Though a direct sequel to The Hobbit, it addressed an older audience, drawing on the immense backstory of Beleriand that Tolkien had constructed in previous years, and which eventually saw posthumous publication in The Silmarillion and other volumes.[127] Tolkien strongly influenced the fantasy genre that grew up after the book's success.[129]

 The Lord of the Rings became immensely popular in the 1960s and has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the 20th century, judged by both sales and reader surveys.[130] In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted by the BBC, The Lord of the Rings was found to be the UK's "Best-loved Novel".[131] Australians voted The Lord of the Rings "My Favourite Book" in a 2004 survey conducted by the Australian ABC.[132] In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, The Lord of the Rings was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium".[133] In 2002 Tolkien was voted the 92nd "greatest Briton" in a poll conducted by the BBC, and in 2004 he was voted 35th in the SABC3's Great South Africans, the only person to appear in both lists. His popularity is not limited to the English-speaking world: in a 2004 poll inspired by the UK's "Big Read" survey, about 250,000 Germans found The Lord of the Rings to be their favourite work of literature.[134]

 The Silmarillion

 Tolkien wrote a brief "Sketch of the Mythology", which included the tales of Beren and Lúthien and of Túrin; and that sketch eventually evolved into the Quenta Silmarillion, an epic history that Tolkien started three times but never published. Tolkien desperately hoped to publish it along with The Lord of the Rings, but publishers (both Allen & Unwin and Collins) declined. Moreover, printing costs were very high in 1950s Britain, requiring The Lord of the Rings to be published in three volumes.[135] The story of this continuous redrafting is told in the posthumous series The History of Middle-earth, edited by Tolkien's son, Christopher Tolkien. From around 1936, Tolkien began to extend this framework to include the tale of The Fall of Númenor, which was inspired by the legend of Atlantis.[136]

 Tolkien appointed his son Christopher to be his literary executor, and he (with assistance from Guy Gavriel Kay, later a well-known fantasy author in his own right) organized some of this material into a single coherent volume, published as The Silmarillion in 1977. It received the Locus Award for Best Fantasy novel in 1978.[137]

 Unfinished Tales and The History of Middle-earth

 In 1980, Christopher Tolkien published a collection of more fragmentary material, under the title Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth. In subsequent years (1983–1996), he published a large amount of the remaining unpublished materials, together with notes and extensive commentary, in a series of twelve volumes called The History of Middle-earth. They contain unfinished, abandoned, alternative, and outright contradictory accounts, since they were always a work in progress for Tolkien and he only rarely settled on a definitive version for any of the stories. There is not complete consistency between The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, the two most closely related works, because Tolkien never fully integrated all their traditions into each other. He commented in 1965, while editing The Hobbit for a third edition, that he would have preferred to rewrite the book completely because of the style of its prose.[138]

 Works compiled by Christopher Tolkien

 Date Title Description    
 2007 The Children of Húrin tells the story of Túrin Turambar and his sister Nienor, children of Húrin Thalion.[139]   
 2009 The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún retells the legend of Sigurd and the fall of the Niflungs from Germanic mythology as a narrative poem in alliterative verse, modelled after the Old Norse poetry of the Elder Edda.[140] 
 2013 The Fall of Arthur is a narrative poem that Tolkien composed in the early 1930s, inspired by high medieval Arthurian fiction but set in the Post-Roman Migration Period, showing Arthur as a British warlord fighting the Saxon invasion.[141]
 2014 Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary is a prose translation of Beowulf that Tolkien made in the 1920s, with commentary from Tolkien's lecture notes.[142][143]  
 2015 The Story of Kullervo is a retelling of a 19th-century Finnish poem that Tolkien wrote in 1915 while studying at Oxford.[144]  
 2017 Beren and Lúthien is one of the oldest and most often revised in Tolkien's legendarium; a version appeared in The Silmarillion.[145]  
 2018 The Fall of Gondolin tells of a beautiful, mysterious city destroyed by dark forces; Tolkien called it "the first real story" of Middle-earth.[146][147]  
 

 Manuscript locations

 Before his death, Tolkien negotiated the sale of the manuscripts, drafts, proofs and other materials related to his then-published works—including The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and Farmer Giles of Ham—to the Department of Special Collections and University Archives at Marquette University's John P. Raynor, S.J., Library in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.[148] After his death his estate donated the papers containing Tolkien's Silmarillion mythology and his academic work to the Bodleian Library at Oxford University.[149] The Bodleian Library held an exhibition of his work in 2018, including more than 60 items which had never been seen in public before.[150]

 In 2009, a partial draft of Language and Human Nature, which Tolkien had begun co-writing with C. S. Lewis but had never completed, was discovered at the Bodleian Library.[151]

 Languages and philology

 Linguistic career

 Both Tolkien's academic career and his literary production are inseparable from his love of language and philology. He specialized in English philology at university and in 1915 graduated with Old Norse as his special subject. He worked on the Oxford English Dictionary from 1918 and is credited with having worked on a number of words starting with the letter W, including walrus, over which he struggled mightily.[152][153] In 1920, he became Reader in English Language at the University of Leeds, where he claimed credit for raising the number of students of linguistics from five to twenty. He gave courses in Old English heroic verse, history of English, various Old English and Middle English texts, Old and Middle English philology, introductory Germanic philology, Gothic, Old Icelandic, and Medieval Welsh. When in 1925, aged thirty-three, Tolkien applied for the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon at Pembroke College, Oxford, he boasted that his students of Germanic philology in Leeds had even formed a "Viking Club".[T 11] He also had a certain, if imperfect, knowledge of Finnish.[154]

 Privately, Tolkien was attracted to "things of racial and linguistic significance", and in his 1955 lecture English and Welsh, which is crucial to his understanding of race and language, he entertained notions of "inherent linguistic predilections", which he termed the "native language" as opposed to the "cradle-tongue" which a person first learns to speak.[155] He considered the West Midlands dialect of Middle English to be his own "native language", and, as he wrote to W. H. Auden in 1955, "I am a West-midlander by blood (and took to early west-midland Middle English as a known tongue as soon as I set eyes on it)."[T 12]

 Language construction

 See also: Languages constructed by J. R. R. Tolkien
 Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees!, the beginning of the Quenya poem Namárië written in Tengwar and in Latin script

 Parallel to Tolkien's professional work as a philologist, and sometimes overshadowing this work, to the effect that his academic output remained rather thin, was his affection for constructing languages. The most developed of these are Quenya and Sindarin, the etymological connection between which formed the core of much of Tolkien's legendarium. Language and grammar for Tolkien was a matter of aesthetics and euphony, and Quenya in particular was designed from "phonaesthetic" considerations; it was intended as an "Elven-latin", and was phonologically based on Latin, with ingredients from Finnish, Welsh, English, and Greek.[T 13] An addition from late 1945 was Adûnaic or Númenórean, a language of a "faintly Semitic flavour", connected with Tolkien's Atlantis legend, which by The Notion Club Papers ties directly into his ideas about the inability of language to be inherited, and via the "Second Age" and the story of Eärendil was grounded in the legendarium, thereby providing a link of Tolkien's 20th-century "real primary world" with the legendary past of his Middle-earth.[ citation needed ]

 Tolkien considered languages inseparable from the mythology associated with them, and he consequently took a dim view of auxiliary languages: in 1930 a congress of Esperantists were told as much by him, in his lecture A Secret Vice,[156] "Your language construction will breed a mythology", but by 1956 he had concluded that "Volapük, Esperanto, Ido, Novial, &c, &c, are dead, far deader than ancient unused languages, because their authors never invented any Esperanto legends".[T 14]

 The popularity of Tolkien's books has had a small but lasting effect on the use of language in fantasy literature in particular, and even on mainstream dictionaries, which today commonly accept Tolkien's idiosyncratic spellings dwarves and dwarvish (alongside dwarfs and dwarfish), which had been little used since the mid-19th century and earlier. (In fact, according to Tolkien, had the Old English plural survived, it would have been dwarrows or dwerrows.) He also coined the term eucatastrophe, though it remains mainly used in connection with his own work.[ citation needed ]

 Artwork

 Main article: Tolkien's artwork

 Tolkien learnt to paint and draw as a child, and continued to do so all his adult life. From early in his writing career, the development of his stories was accompanied by drawings and paintings, especially of landscapes, and by maps of the lands in which the tales were set. He also produced pictures to accompany the stories told to his own children, including those later published in Mr Bliss and Roverandom, and sent them elaborately illustrated letters purporting to come from Father Christmas. Although he regarded himself as an amateur, the publisher used the author's own cover art, his maps, and full-page illustrations for the early editions of The Hobbit. He prepared maps and illustrations for The Lord of the Rings, but the first edition contained only the maps, his calligraphy for the inscription on the One Ring, and his ink drawing of the Doors of Durin. Much of his artwork was collected and published in 1995 as a book: J. R. R. Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator. The book discusses Tolkien's paintings, drawings, and sketches, and reproduces approximately 200 examples of his work.[157] Catherine McIlwaine curated a major exhibition of Tolkien's artwork at the Bodleian Library, Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth, accompanied by a book of the same name that analyses Tolkien's achievement and illustrates the full range of the types of artwork that he created.[158]

 Legacy

 Influence

 Further information: Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien

 While many other authors had published works of fantasy before Tolkien, the great success of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings led directly to a popular resurgence and the shaping of the modern fantasy genre. This has caused Tolkien to be popularly identified as the "father" of modern fantasy literature[159][160]—or, more precisely, of high fantasy,[161] as in the work of authors such as Ursula Le Guin and her Earthsea series.[162] In 2008, The Times ranked him sixth on a list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945".[163] His influence has extended to music, including the Danish group the Tolkien Ensemble's setting of all the poetry in The Lord of the Rings to their vocal music;[164] and to a broad range of games set in Middle-earth.[165]

 Adaptations

 Further information: Middle-earth in film

 In a 1951 letter to publisher Milton Waldman (1895–1976), Tolkien wrote about his intentions to create a "body of more or less connected legend", of which "[t]he cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama".[T 15] The hands and minds of many artists have indeed been inspired by Tolkien's legends. Personally known to him were Pauline Baynes (Tolkien's favourite illustrator of The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and Farmer Giles of Ham) and Donald Swann (who set the music to The Road Goes Ever On). Queen Margrethe II of Denmark created illustrations to The Lord of the Rings in the early 1970s. She sent them to Tolkien, who was struck by the similarity they bore in style to his own drawings.[166] Tolkien was not implacably opposed to the idea of a dramatic adaptation, however, and sold the film, stage and merchandise rights of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings to United Artists in 1968. United Artists never made a film, although director John Boorman was planning a live-action film in the early 1970s. In 1976, the rights were sold to Tolkien Enterprises, a division of the Saul Zaentz Company, and the first film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings was released in 1978 as an animated rotoscoping film directed by Ralph Bakshi with screenplay by the fantasy writer Peter S. Beagle. It covered only the first half of the story of The Lord of the Rings.[167]

 In 1977, an animated musical television film of The Hobbit was made by Rankin-Bass, and in 1980, they produced the animated musical television film The Return of the King, which covered some of the portions of The Lord of the Rings that Bakshi was unable to complete. From 2001 to 2003, New Line Cinema released The Lord of the Rings as a trilogy of live-action films that were filmed in New Zealand and directed by Peter Jackson. The series was successful, performing extremely well commercially and winning numerous Oscars.[168] From 2012 to 2014, Warner Bros. and New Line Cinema released The Hobbit, a series of three films based on The Hobbit, with Peter Jackson serving as executive producer, director, and co-writer.[169] The first instalment, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, was released in December 2012;[170] the second, The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug, in December 2013;[171] and the last instalment, The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies, in December 2014.[172] In 2017, Amazon acquired the global television rights to The Lord of the Rings, for a series of new stories set before The Fellowship of the Ring.[173][174]

 Memorials

 Main article: List of things named after J. R. R. Tolkien and his works

 Tolkien and the characters and places from his works have become eponyms of many real-world objects. These include geographical features on Titan (Saturn's largest moon),[175] street names such as There and Back Again Lane, inspired by The Hobbit,[176] mountains such as Mount Shadowfax, Mount Gandalf and Mount Aragorn in Canada,[177][178] companies such as Palantir Technologies,[179] and species including the wasp Shireplitis tolkieni,[180] 37 new species of Elachista moths,[180][181] and many fossils.[182][183][184]

 Since 2003, The Tolkien Society has organized Tolkien Reading Day, which takes place on 25 March in schools around the world.[185] In 2013, Pembroke College, Oxford University, established an annual lecture on fantasy literature in Tolkien's honour.[186] In 2012, Tolkien was among the British cultural icons selected by artist Sir Peter Blake to appear in a new version of his most famous artwork—the Beatles' Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover—to celebrate the British cultural figures of his life that he most admired.[187][188] A 2019 biographical film, Tolkien, focused on Tolkien's early life and war experiences.[189] The Tolkien family and estate stated that they did not "approve of, authorise or participate in the making of" the film.[190]

 Sarehole Mill's blue plaque

 Several blue plaques in England commemorate places associated with Tolkien, including for his childhood, his workplaces, and places he visited.[41][191][192]

 Address Commemoration Date unveiled Issued by 
 Sarehole Mill, Hall Green, Birmingham "Inspired" 1896–1900 (i.e. lived nearby) 15 August 2002 Birmingham Civic Society and The Tolkien Society[193]
 1 Duchess Place, Ladywood, Birmingham Lived near here 1902–1910 Unknown Birmingham Civic Society[194] 
 4 Highfield Road, Edgbaston, Birmingham Lived here 1910–1911 Unknown Birmingham Civic Society and The Tolkien Society[195]
 Plough and Harrow, Hagley Road, Birmingham Stayed here June 1916 June 1997 The Tolkien Society[196] 
 2 Darnley Road, West Park, Leeds First academic appointment, Leeds 1 October 2012 The Tolkien Society and Leeds Civic Trust[197] 
 20 Northmoor Road, North Oxford Lived here 1930–1947 3 December 2002 Oxfordshire Blue Plaques Board[198] 
 Hotel Miramar, East Overcliff Drive, Bournemouth Stayed here regularly from the 1950s until 1972 10 June 1992 by Priscilla Tolkien Borough of Bournemouth[199] 
 

 The Royal Mint is producing a commemorative £2 coin in 2023 to mark the 50th anniversary of Tolkien's death.[200]

 Canonization process

 On 2 September 2017, the Oxford Oratory, Tolkien's parish church during his time in Oxford, offered its first Mass for the intention of Tolkien's cause for beatification to be opened.[201][202] A prayer was written for his cause.[201]

 Notes

 1. ^ Tolkien pronounced his surname / ˈ t ɒ l k iː n / TOL -keen . [1][ page needed ] In General American , the surname is commonly pronounced / ˈ t oʊ l k iː n / TOHL -keen . [2]

 References

 Primary

 1. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #267.
 2. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #306 to Michael Tolkien, 1967 or 1968
 3. ^ a b c d e f g h Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #43 to Michael Tolkien, 6–8 March 1941
 4. ^ a b Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #340.
 5. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #35 (see also editorial note).
 6. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #336 to Sir Patrick Browne , 23 May 1972
 7. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #332 to Michael Tolkien, 24 January 1972
 8. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #294 to Charlotte and Denis Plimmer, 8 February 1967
 9. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #334 (editorial note).
 10. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #250 to Michael Tolkien, 1 November 1963
 11. ^ Carpenter & Tolkien 1981 , Letters #7, to the Electors of the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon, University of Oxford, 27 June 1925
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 200. ^ "Celebrating the Life and Work of JRR Tolkien". The Royal Mint . Retrieved 4 January 2023 .
 201. ^ a b ""Saint Tolkien": Why This English Don Is on the Path to Sainthood". Archived from the original on 30 April 2019.
 202. ^ "Will Tolkien and Chesterton be declared saints?". Archived from the original on 30 April 2019.

 Sources

 * Carpenter, Humphrey (1977). Tolkien: A Biography. New York: Ballantine Books. ISBN 978-0-04-928037-3.
 * ———; Tolkien, Christopher, eds. (1981). The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien. London: George Allen & Unwin. ISBN 978-0-04-826005-5.
 * Garth, John (2003). Tolkien and the Great War. Harper-Collins. ISBN 978-0-00-711953-0.
 * Grotta, Daniel (2002). J. R. R. Tolkien: Architect of Middle Earth: A Biography. Running Press. ISBN 978-0-7624-1337-9.
 * Lee, Stuart D., ed. (2020) [2014]. A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien. Wiley Blackwell. ISBN 978-1119656029.
 * Shippey, Tom (2005) [1982]. The Road to Middle-earth (Third ed.). Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN 978-0-618-25760-7.

 Further reading

 A small selection of books about Tolkien and his works:

 * Anderson, Douglas A.; Drout, Michael D. C.; Flieger, Verlyn, eds. (2004). Tolkien Studies, An Annual Scholarly Review. Vol. I. West Virginia University Press. ISBN 978-0-937058-87-9.
 * Carpenter, Humphrey (1979). The Inklings: C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams and Their Friends. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 978-0-395-27628-0.
 * Chance, Jane, ed. (2003). Tolkien the Medievalist. London, New York: Routledge. ISBN 978-0-415-28944-3.
 * ———, ed. (2004). Tolkien and the Invention of Myth, a Reader. Louisville: University Press of Kentucky. ISBN 978-0-8131-2301-1.
 * Cilli, Oronzo; Shippey, Tom (2019). Tolkien's Library: An Annotated Checklist. Edinburgh: Luna Press. ISBN 978-1-911143-67-3. OCLC 1099568978.
 * ———; Smith, Arden R.; Wynne, Patrick H.; Garth, John (2017). J. R. R. Tolkien the Esperantist: Before the Arrival of Bilbo Baggins. Barletta: Cafagna. ISBN 978-88-96906-33-0. OCLC 1020852373.
 * Costabile, Giovanni Carmine (2018). "Bilbo Baggins and the Forty Thieves The Reworking of Folktale Motifs in The Hobbit (and The Lord of the Rings )". Mythlore. 36 (2 (132)): 89–104. ISSN 0146-9339. OCLC 8513422873.
 * Croft, Janet Brennan (2004). War and the Works of J. R. R. Tolkien. Westport: Praegar Publishers. ISBN 0-313-32592-8.
 * Curry, Patrick (2004). Defending Middle-earth: Tolkien, Myth and Modernity. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 978-0-618-47885-9.
 * Drout, Michael D. C., ed. (2006). The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment. New York City: Routledge. ISBN 978-0-415-96942-0.
 * Duriez, Colin (2003). Tolkien and C. S. Lewis: The Gift of Friendship. Mahwah, New Jersey: HiddenSpring. ISBN 978-1-58768-026-7.
 * ———; Porter, David (2001). The Inklings Handbook: The Lives, Thought and Writings of C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams, Owen Barfield, and Their Friends. London: Azure. ISBN 978-1-902694-13-9.
 * Flieger, Verlyn (2002). Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien's World. Kent State University Press. ISBN 978-0-87338-744-6.
 * ———; Hostetter, Carl F., eds. (2000). Tolkien's Legendarium: Essays on The History of Middle-earth. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. ISBN 978-0-313-30530-6. DDC 823.912 LC PR6039.
 * Fonstad, Karen Wynn (1991). The Atlas of Middle-earth. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 978-0-618-12699-6.
 * Foster, Robert (2001). The Complete Guide to Middle-earth. Del Rey. ISBN 978-0-345-44976-4.
 * Fredrick, Candice; McBride, Sam (2001). Woman among the Inklings: Gender, C.S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, and Charles Williams. Greenwood Press. ISBN 978-0-313-31245-8.
 * Gilliver, Peter; Marshall, Jeremy; Weiner, Edmund (2006). The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford University Press. ISBN 978-0-19-861069-4.
 * Glyer, Diana Pavlac (2007). The Company They Keep: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien as Writers in Community. Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press. ISBN 978-0-87338-890-0.
 * Grant, Patrick (1979). "Belief in Fantasy: J. R. R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings". Six Modern Authors and Problems of Belief. MacMillan. ISBN 978-0333263402.
 * Haber, Karen (2001). Meditations on Middle-earth: New Writing on the Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien. St. Martin's Press. ISBN 978-0-312-27536-5.
 * Harrington, Patrick, ed. (2003). Tolkien and Politics. London, England: Third Way Publications. ISBN 978-0-9544788-2-7.
 * Lee, Stuart D.; Solopova, Elizabeth (2005). The Keys of Middle-earth: Discovering Medieval Literature through the Fiction of J. R. R. Tolkien. Palgrave Macmillan. ISBN 978-1-4039-4671-3.
 * Pearce, Joseph (1998). Tolkien: Man and Myth. London: HarperCollins. ISBN 978-0-00-274018-0.
 * Perry, Michael (2006). Untangling Tolkien: A Chronology and Commentary for The Lord of the Rings. Seattle: Inkling Books. ISBN 978-1-58742-019-1.
 * Ready, William (1968). Understanding Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings. New York: Paperback Library.
 * Rorabeck, Robert (2008). Tolkien's Heroic Quest. Crescent Moon. ISBN 978-1-86171-239-4.
 * Scull, Christina; Hammond, Wayne G. (2017). The J.R.R. Tolkien Companion and Guide (Revised and expanded ed.). London: HarperCollins. ISBN 978-0-00-821454-8.
 * Shippey, Tom (2000). J. R. R. Tolkien: Author of the Century. Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN 978-0-618-12764-1.
 * Strachey, Barbara (1981). Journeys of Frodo: an Atlas of The Lord of the Rings. London, Boston: Allen & Unwin. ISBN 978-0-04-912016-7.
 * Tolkien, John & Priscilla (1992). The Tolkien Family Album. London: HarperCollins. ISBN 978-0-261-10239-2.
 * Tyler, J. E. A. (1976). The Tolkien Companion. New York: Gramercy. ISBN 978-0-517-14648-4.
 * White, Michael (2003). Tolkien: A Biography. New American Library. ISBN 978-0-451-21242-9.
 * Zaleski, Philip; Zaleski, Carol (2016). The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. ISBN 978-0-374-53625-1.

 External links

 J. R. R. Tolkien at Wikipedia's sister projects
 * Media from Commons
 * Quotations from Wikiquote
 * Texts from Wikisource
 * Data from Wikidata
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 * HarperCollins Tolkien Website
 * Additional Resources for J. R. R. Tolkien compiled by the Marion E. Wade Center
 * "Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel". Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (online ed.). Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/ref:odnb/31766. (Subscription or UK public library membership required.)
 * J. R. R. Tolkien at IMDb
 * J. R. R. Tolkien at the Internet Speculative Fiction Database
 * Archival material at Leeds University Library
 * Audio recording of Tolkien from 1929 on a language learning gramophone disc
 * BBC film (1968) featuring Tolkien
 * Biography at the Tolkien Society
 * J. R. R. Tolkien at The Encyclopedia of Fantasy
 * J. R. R. Tolkien at the Internet Book List
 * J. R. R. Tolkien at The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction
 * Journal of Inklings Studies—Peer-reviewed journal on Tolkien's literary circle, based at Oxford
 * The Tolkien Estate Website
 * Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth exhibition at the Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
 * Works by J. R. R. Tolkien at LibriVox (public domain audiobooks)
 * Works by J. R. R. Tolkien at Project Gutenberg
 * Works by or about J. R. R. Tolkien at Internet Archive
 * v 
 * t 
 * e 
 J. R. R. Tolkien 
 * 
 + Bibliography
 + Letters 
 * Songs for the Philologists (1936) 
 + "Bagme Bloma" 
 * The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son (1953) 
 * "A Walking Song" (1954) 
 * The Adventures of Tom Bombadil (1962) 
 Poetry + "Errantry" 
 and songs + "Fastitocalon" 
 + "The Sea-Bell" 
 + "The Man in the Moon Stayed Up Too Late" 
 * The Road Goes Ever On (1967) 
 * Bilbo's Last Song (1974) 
 * List of Tolkien's alliterative verse 
 * The Hobbit (1937) 
 * "Leaf by Niggle" (1947) 
 * The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun (1945/2016) 
 * Farmer Giles of Ham (1949) 
 * The Lord of the Rings: 
 Fiction + The Fellowship of the Ring (1954) 
 + The Two Towers (1954) 
 + The Return of the King (1955) 
 * Tree and Leaf (1964) 
 * The Tolkien Reader (1966) 
 * Smith of Wootton Major (1967) 
 * The Father Christmas Letters (1976) 
 * The Silmarillion (1977) 
 * Poems and Stories (1980) 
 * Unfinished Tales (1980) 
 * Mr. Bliss (1982) 
 * The History of Middle-earth (1983–1996) 
 + The Book of Lost Tales 
 + The Lays of Beleriand 
 + The Shaping of Middle-earth 
 + The Lost Road and Other Writings 
 + The History of The Lord of the Rings 
 Posthumous + Morgoth's Ring 
 fiction + The War of the Jewels 
 + The Peoples of Middle-earth 
 * Tales from the Perilous Realm (1997) 
 * Roverandom (1998) 
 * The Children of Húrin (2007) 
 * The History of The Hobbit (2007) 
 * The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún (2009) 
 * The Fall of Arthur (2013) 
 * The Story of Kullervo (2015) 
 * Beren and Lúthien (2017) 
 * The Fall of Gondolin (2018) 
 * The Nature of Middle-earth (2021) 
 * The Fall of Númenor (2022) 
 * Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Middle English text, 1925) 
 * "The Devil's Coach Horses" (1925) 
 * "Ancrene Wisse and Hali Meiðhad" (1929) 
 * "Sigelwara Land" (1932–34) 
 * "Chaucer as a Philologist: The Reeve's Tale" (1934) 
 Academic * "Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics" (1936) 
 works * "On Fairy-Stories" (1939) 
 * "On Translating Beowulf" (1940) 
 * Sir Orfeo (1944) 
 * Ancrene Wisse (1962) 
 * "English and Welsh" (1963) 
 * Jerusalem Bible (as translator and lexicographer, 1966) 
 * Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, and Sir Orfeo (translations, 1975)
 * Exodus (1981) 
 Posthumous * Finn and Hengest (1982) 
 academic * The Monsters and the Critics, and Other Essays (1983) 
 * Beowulf and the Critics (2002) 
 * Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary with "Sellic Spell" (2014) 
 * A Secret Vice (2016) 
 * Biographers 
 + Humphrey Carpenter 
 + John Garth 
 * Christian  
 + Stratford Caldecott 
 + Matthew T. Dickerson 
 + Peter Kreeft 
 + Joseph Pearce 
 + Fleming Rutledge 
 + Ralph C. Wood 
 * Critics  
 + Douglas A. Anderson 
 + Nicholas Birns 
 + Bradley J. Birzer 
 + David Bratman 
 + Lin Carter 
 + Jane Chance 
 + Janet Brennan Croft 
 + Patrick Curry 
 + Bradford Lee Eden 
 + Dimitra Fimi 
 + Jason Fisher 
 + Verlyn Flieger 
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 + Thomas Honegger 
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 + Stuart D. Lee 
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 + John D. Rateliff 
 + Christina Scull 
 + Amy H. Sturgis 
 + Richard C. West 
 * Linguists  
 + Helge Fauskanger 
 + Carl F. Hostetter 
 + Tom Loback 
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 + Arden R. Smith 
 * Medievalists 
 + Marjorie Burns 
 + Michael Drout 
 + Gergely Nagy 
 + Tom Shippey 
 + Elizabeth Solopova 
 + Sandra Ballif Straubhaar 
 * Family  
 + Francis Xavier Morgan 
 * Influences 
 * Artwork  
 + J. R. R. Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator 
 * Languages constructed by Tolkien 
 * The Inklings 
 * The Keys of Middle-earth 
 * Mythlore  
 * Mythopoeic Society 
 + Elvish Linguistic Fellowship 
 * Tolkien and the modernists 
 * Tolkien Estate 
 * Tolkien fandom 
 * The Tolkien Society 
 Related + Tolkien Reading Day 
 * Tolkien Studies 
 * Memorials  
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 * Tolkien research 
 * Works inspired by Tolkien 
 * J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography (1977, authorized biography) 
 * Master of Middle-Earth 
 * Tolkien and the Great War 
 * The Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien 
 * Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth 
 * Tolkien: A Cultural Phenomenon 
 * Tolkien's Art: A 'Mythology for England' 
 * Tolkien (biographical film) 
 * Poems and Songs of Middle Earth (album) 
 * Language and Human Nature 
 * The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary 
 
 Associated subjects   
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 Middle-earth   
 * J. R. R. Tolkien   
 + Bibliography   
 * Canon   
 * Influences   
 + Beowulf   
 + Shakespeare   
 * Legendarium   
 * Outline   
 * The Adventures of Tom Bombadil   
 * Beren and Lúthien   
 * Bilbo's Last Song   
 * The Children of Húrin   
 * The Fall of Gondolin   
 * The Fall of Númenor   
 * The Hobbit   
 * The Lord of the Rings   
 + The Fellowship of the Ring   
 Works o "The Shadow of the Past"  
  o "The Council of Elrond"   
 + The Two Towers   
 + The Return of the King   
  o "The Scouring of the Shire"  
  o "The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen"  
 * The Silmarillion   
 + "Ainulindalë"   
 + Round World version   
 * Unfinished Tales   
 * The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien   
 * The History of The Hobbit   
 * The History of Middle-earth   
 + 1–2 The Book of Lost Tales   
  o Ælfwine   
 + 3 The Lays of Beleriand   
 History of + 4 The Shaping of Middle-earth  
 composition + 5 The Lost Road and Other Writings  
 + 6–9 The History of The Lord of the Rings  
  o The Notion Club Papers   
 + 10 Morgoth's Ring   
 + 11 The War of the Jewels   
 + 12 The Peoples of Middle-earth  
 * The Nature of Middle-earth   
  * Ainur   
  + Maiar   
  o Balrogs   
  o Wizards   
  + Valar   
  * Dragons   
  * Dwarves   
  * Eagles   
  * Elves   
 Peoples, + Half-elven   
 Monsters + Noldor   
  + Sundering   
  * Ents   
  * Hobbits   
  * Men   
  + Beornings   
  + Drúedain   
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  * Orcs   
  * Trolls   
  * First and Second Ages  
  + Celebrimbor   
  + Eärendil and Elwing  
  + Elendil   
  + Fëanor   
  + Fingolfin   
  + Finwë and Míriel  
  + Gil-galad   
  + Húrin   
  + Isildur   
  + Lúthien and Beren  
  + Melian   
 Characters + Morgoth   
  + Thingol   
  + Tuor and Idril   
  + Túrin Turambar   
  + Ungoliant   
  * Third Age   
  + Elrond   
  + Galadriel   
  + Gandalf   
  + Glorfindel   
  + Goldberry   
  + Saruman   
  + Sauron   
  + Tom Bombadil   
  * First and Second Ages  
  + Beleriand   
  + Númenor   
  + Valinor   
  * Third Age   
  + Bree   
  + Esgaroth   
 Fictional + Gondor   
 universe + Harad   
 Geography + Isengard   
  + Lonely Mountain   
  + Lothlórien   
  + Mirkwood   
  + Mordor   
  + Moria   
  + Rivendell   
  + Rohan   
  + The Shire   
  o Bag End   
  * Mithril   
  * Palantír   
  * Red Book of Westmarch  
 Objects * Rings of Power   
  + One Ring   
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  * Artwork   
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 Elements + Sindarin   
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  * Architecture   
  * Christianity   
  * Cosmology   
  * Decline and fall   
  * England   
  * Environmentalism   
  * First World War   
  * Frame stories   
  * Magic   
 Themes * Medieval   
  * Modernism   
  * Music   
  * Naming of weapons   
  * Paganism   
  * Plants   
  * Prose style   
  * Psychological journeys  
  * Sentience dilemma   
  * Sound and language   
  * Time travel   
  * Trees and forests   
    
  * Jenny Dolfen   
 Artists * John Howe   
  * Alan Lee   
  * Ted Nasmith   
  * Bo Hansson   
  * Johan de Meij   
  + Symphony No. 1 The Lord of the Rings  
 Composers * Howard Shore   
  + Music of The Lord of the Rings film series  
  + Music of The Hobbit film series  
  * Bear McCreary   
  + Music of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power television series  
 Adaptations, * Donald Swann   
 legacy + The Road Goes Ever On  
  + Poems and Songs of Middle Earth  
 Settings * The Tolkien Ensemble  
  + An Evening in Rivendell  
  + A Night in Rivendell  
  + At Dawn in Rivendell  
  + Leaving Rivendell  
  * Middle-earth Enterprises  
  * Film   
 Other media * Video games   
  * Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien  
  * Things named after Tolkien and his works  
    
 * The Atlas of Middle-earth   
 Maps * Journeys of Frodo   
 * A Map of Middle-earth   
 * The Complete Guide to Middle-earth  
 * A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien   
 * Master of Middle-Earth   
 * J. R. R. Tolkien: Author of the Century  
 * The J. R. R. Tolkien Companion and Guide  
 * The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia  
 * The Lord of the Rings: A Reader's Companion  
 Literary * The Road to Middle-Earth   
 criticism * Splintered Light   
 * Tolkien's Art: 'A Mythology for England'  
 * Tolkien: A Look Behind "The Lord of the Rings"  
 * Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth   
 * Tolkien's Legendarium   
 * Tolkien and the Great War   
 * The Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien   
 * The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary  
    
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 The Hobbit   
 * J. R. R. Tolkien   
 * Hobbit (word)   
 * Legendarium   
 + frame stories   
 * Middle-earth   
 + artwork   
 + Beowulf   
 + maps   
 + named weapons   
 + psychological journeys   
  * English-language editions  
 Editions * The Annotated Hobbit  
  * Translations   
  * Bilbo Baggins   
  * Wizards   
  + Gandalf   
  + Radagast   
  * Dwarves   
  + Thorin Oakenshield  
  + Balin   
  * Goblins   
  * Trolls   
 Characters * Gollum   
  * Eagles   
  * Beorn   
  * Elves   
  + Elrond   
  + the Elvenking   
  * Smaug   
  * Bard the Bowman   
  * The Necromancer   
  * Wargs   
  * Eriador   
  + The Shire   
  + Rivendell   
 Places * Rhovanion   
  + Mirkwood   
  + Esgaroth   
  + Lonely Mountain   
 Related works * The History of The Hobbit  
  * Bilbo's Last Song   
  Radio * The Hobbit (1968)  
  * Gene Deitch's The Hobbit (1967)  
  * Rankin/Bass's The Hobbit (1977)  
  * Soviet The Hobbit (1985)  
  * Peter Jackson's series  
  Film + An Unexpected Journey (2012)  
  + The Desolation of Smaug (2013)  
 Adaptations + The Battle of the Five Armies (2014)  
  + original characters  
  + music   
    
  * The Hobbit (1982)  
  Games * The Hobbit (2003)  
  * Lego The Hobbit (2014)  
  * The Hobbit pinball machine (2016)  
    
 * Category   
    
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 The Lord of the Rings   
 * J. R. R. Tolkien   
 * Influences   
 * Middle-earth   
 * Peter Jackson's interpretation   
   * Volumes 
   + The Fellowship of the Ring 
   + The Two Towers 
   + The Return of the King 
   * Stories 
   + "The Shadow of the Past" 
   + "The Council of Elrond" 
   + "The Scouring of the Shire" 
   + "The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen" 
 About  * Translations 
   + Russian 
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   * Reception 
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   o Oxonmoot 
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   + Quenya 
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   * Maps 
   Elements * Poetry 
   + A Elbereth Gilthoniel 
   + Namárië 
   + Song of Eärendil 
   + The Man in the Moon Stayed Up Too Late 
   + The Road Goes Ever On 
   + A Walking Song 
   * Prose 
   * Proverbs 
   * Addiction to power 
   * Ancestry as guide to character 
   * Architecture 
   * Beowulf 
   * Christianity 
   * Decline and fall 
   * England 
   * Environmentalism 
 Structure   * First World War 
   * Frame stories 
   * Heroism 
   * Languages 
   * Magic 
   Themes * Medieval 
   * Music 
   * Naming of weapons 
   * Paganism 
   * Plants 
   * Psychological journeys 
   * Race 
   * Sentience dilemma 
   * Sexuality 
   * Shakespeare 
   * Sound and language 
   * Time travel 
   * Trees and forests 
   * Women 
   * Character pairing 
   * Impression of depth 
   Literary * Interlacing 
   * Modernism 
   * Prose style 
    
   * Balrogs 
   * Sauron 
   Maiar * Wizards 
   + Gandalf 
   + Radagast 
   + Saruman 
   * Dwarves 
   + Balin 
   + Gimli 
   * Elves 
   + Galadriel 
   + Glorfindel 
   + Half-elven 
   o Arwen 
   o Elrond 
   + Legolas 
   + Thranduil 
   * Ents 
   + Treebeard 
   * Hobbits 
   + Bilbo 
   Free + Frodo 
   peoples + Merry 
   + Pippin 
   + Sam 
 Peoples   * Men 
   + Beornings 
   + Drúedain 
   + Dúnedain 
   o Aragorn 
   + of Gondor 
   o Boromir 
   o Denethor 
   o Faramir 
   + of Rohan 
   o Éomer 
   o Éowyn 
   o Théoden 
   o Wormtongue 
   * Barrow-wight 
   * Gollum 
   * Nazgûl 
   * Old Man Willow 
   Monsters * Orcs 
   * Shelob 
   * Trolls 
   * Wargs 
   * Watcher in the Water 
   * Eagles 
   Other * Goldberry 
   * Tom Bombadil 
    
   * Eriador 
   + Bree 
   + Old Forest 
   + Rivendell 
   + The Shire 
   o Bag End 
 Geography  * Gondor 
   * Harad 
   * Lothlórien 
   * Mirkwood 
   * Moria 
   * Mordor 
   * Rohan 
   + Isengard 
   * Helm's Deep 
 Battles  * Pelennor Fields 
   * Morannon 
   * Mithril 
   * Palantírs 
 Objects  * Rings of Power 
   + One Ring 
   * List of weapons and armour 
   * The Hobbit 
   * The Adventures of Tom Bombadil 
   + Errantry 
   + Fastitocalon 
   + The Sea-Bell 
   * The Road Goes Ever On 
   * Bilbo's Last Song 
 Related  * The Silmarillion 
 works  * Unfinished Tales 
   * The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien 
   * The History of Middle-earth 
   * The Children of Húrin 
   * The History of The Hobbit 
   * The Sea-Bell 
   * Beren and Lúthien 
   * The Fall of Gondolin 
   * The Nature of Middle-earth 
 Adaptations and derivative works   
  * Bored of the Rings (1969)  
 Books * The Last Ringbearer (1999)  
  * Muddle Earth (2003)  
  * A Map of Middle-earth  
  + Pauline Baynes  
  + Barbara Remington  
 Illustrations * John Howe   
  * Alan Lee   
  * Margrethe II of Denmark  
  * Ted Nasmith   
 Theatre * Fellowship! (2005)  
  * Lord of the Rings (2006)  
  * The Lord of the Rings (BBC, 1955)  
  * The Lord of the Rings (NPR, 1979)  
 Radio * Hordes of the Things (1980)  
  * The Lord of the Rings (BBC, 1981)  
  * Der Herr der Ringe (1992)  
  * The Lord of the Rings (Bakshi, 1978)  
  Animated * The Return of the King (Rankin/Bass, 1980)  
  * The War of the Rohirrim (2024)  
  * The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)  
  * The Two Towers (2002)  
  Peter Jackson * The Return of the King (2003)  
  series (Production) * "Concerning Hobbits" 
  Music * "Into the West"  
 Film  * "May It Be"  
    
  * Sagan om ringen (1971)  
  * Khraniteli (1991)  
  Other * Hobitit (1993)  
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J. R. R. Tolkien    CBE FRSL         Tolkien in the 1920s    Born John Ronald Reuel Tolkien3 January 1892 Bloemfontein, Orange Free State    Died 2 September 1973 (aged 81) Bournemouth, Hampshire, England   Occupation    Author  academic   philologist  poet      Alma mater  Exeter College, Oxford    Genre    Fantasy  high fantasy   mythopoeia  translation  literary criticism       Spouse     Edith Bratt  
 ​ ​ (m. ; died  ) ​     Children  
  John Francis 
 Michael Hilary 
 Christopher John 
 Priscilla Anne  
    Relatives  Tolkien family    Signature             Military career   Allegiance  King George V    Branch  British Army    Years 1915–1920   Rank  Lieutenant    Unit  Lancashire Fusiliers    Battles  
  World War I
  Battle of the Somme 
 Capture of Schwaben Redoubt 
 Capture of Leipzig Salient 
 Capture of Regina Trench ( WIA )   
    
 John Ronald Reuel Tolkien CBE FRSL (,  ROOL TOL-keen ; [a]  3 January 1892 – 2 September 1973) was an English writer and philologist. He was the author of the high fantasy works  The Hobbit  and  The Lord of the Rings .
 From 1925 to 1945, Tolkien was the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon and a Fellow of Pembroke College, both at the University of Oxford. He then moved within the same university to become the Merton Professor of English Language and Literature and Fellow of Merton College, and held these positions from 1945 until his retirement in 1959. Tolkien was a close friend of C. S. Lewis, a co-member of the informal literary discussion group The Inklings. He was appointed a Commander of the Order of the British Empire by Queen Elizabeth II on 28 March 1972.
 After Tolkien's death, his son Christopher published a series of works based on his father's extensive notes and unpublished manuscripts, including  The Silmarillion . These, together with The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, form a connected body of tales, poems, fictional histories, invented languages, and literary essays about a fantasy world called Arda and, within it, Middle-earth. Between 1951 and 1955, Tolkien applied the term  legendarium  to the larger part of these writings.
 While many other authors had published works of fantasy before Tolkien, the great success of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings led directly to a popular resurgence of the genre. This has caused him to be popularly identified as the "father" of modern fantasy literature—or, more precisely, of high fantasy.
Biography
Ancestry
Tolkien's immediate paternal ancestors were middle-class craftsmen who made and sold clocks, watches and pianos in London and Birmingham. The Tolkien family originated in the East Prussian town of Kreuzburg near Königsberg, which had been founded during medieval German eastward expansion, where his earliest-known paternal ancestor Michel Tolkien was born around 1620. Michel's son Christianus Tolkien (1663–1746) was a wealthy miller in Kreuzburg. [3] 
 His son, Christian Tolkien (1706–1791), moved from Kreuzburg to nearby Danzig, and his two sons Daniel Gottlieb Tolkien (1747–1813) and Johann (later known as John) Benjamin Tolkien (1752–1819) emigrated to London in the 1770s and became the ancestors of the English family; the younger brother was J. R. R. Tolkien's second great-grandfather. In 1792, John Benjamin Tolkien and William Gravell took over the Erdley Norton manufacture in London, which from then on sold clocks and watches under the name Gravell &amp; Tolkien. Daniel Gottlieb obtained British citizenship in 1794, but John Benjamin apparently never became a British citizen. Other German relatives also joined the two brothers in London. Several people with the surname Tolkien or similar spelling, some of them members of the same family as J. R. R. Tolkien, live in northern Germany, but most of them are descendants of people who evacuated East Prussia in 1945, at the end of World War II. [4]   [3]   [5] 
 According to Ryszard Derdziński, the Tolkien name is of Low Prussian origin and probably means "son/descendant of Tolk". [4]   [3]  Tolkien mistakenly believed his surname derived from the German word tollkühn, meaning "foolhardy", [6]  and jokingly inserted himself as a "cameo" into  The Notion Club Papers  under the literally translated name Rashbold. [7]  However, Derdziński has demonstrated this to be a false etymology. While J. R. R. Tolkien was aware of his family's German origin, his knowledge of the family's history was limited because he was "early isolated from the family of his prematurely deceased father". [4]   [3] 
Childhood
      1892 Christmas card with a coloured photo of the Tolkien family in Bloemfontein, sent to relatives in Birmingham, England  
John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was born on 3 January 1892 in Bloemfontein in the Orange Free State (later annexed by the British Empire; now Free State Province in the Republic of South Africa), to Arthur Reuel Tolkien (1857–1896), an English bank manager, and his wife Mabel, née Suffield (1870–1904). The couple had left England when Arthur was promoted to head the Bloemfontein office of the British bank for which he worked. Tolkien had one sibling, his younger brother, Hilary Arthur Reuel Tolkien, who was born on 17 February 1894. [8] 
 As a child, Tolkien was bitten by a large baboon spider in the garden, an event some believe to have been later echoed in his stories, although he admitted no actual memory of the event and no special hatred of spiders as an adult. In an earlier incident from Tolkien's infancy, a young family servant took the baby to his homestead, returning him the next morning. [9] 
 When he was three, he went to England with his mother and brother on what was intended to be a lengthy family visit. His father, however, died in South Africa of rheumatic fever before he could join them. [10]  This left the family without an income, so Tolkien's mother took him to live with her parents in Kings Heath, [11]  Birmingham. Soon after, in 1896, they moved to Sarehole (now in Hall Green), then a Worcestershire village, later annexed to Birmingham. [12]  He enjoyed exploring Sarehole Mill and Moseley Bog and the Clent, Lickey and Malvern Hills, which would later inspire scenes in his books, along with nearby towns and villages such as Bromsgrove, Alcester, and Alvechurch and places such as his aunt Jane's farm Bag End, the name of which he used in his fiction. [13] 
     
Mabel Tolkien taught her two children at home. Ronald, as he was known in the family, was a keen pupil. [14]  She taught him a great deal of botany and awakened in him the enjoyment of the look and feel of plants. Young Tolkien liked to draw landscapes and trees, but his favourite lessons were those concerning languages, and his mother taught him the rudiments of Latin very early. [15] 
 Tolkien could read by the age of four and could write fluently soon afterwards. His mother allowed him to read many books. He disliked  Treasure Island  and "The Pied Piper" and thought  Alice's Adventures in Wonderland  by Lewis Carroll was "amusing but disturbing". He liked stories about "Red Indians" (Native Americans) and works of fantasy by George MacDonald. [16]  In addition, the "Fairy Books" of Andrew Lang were particularly important to him and their influence is apparent in some of his later writings. [17] 
      King Edward's School in Birmingham, where Tolkien was a pupil (1900–1902, 1903–1911) [18]    
Mabel Tolkien was received into the Roman Catholic Church in 1900 despite vehement protests by her Baptist family, [19]  which stopped all financial assistance to her. In 1904, when J. R. R. Tolkien was 12, his mother died of acute diabetes at Fern Cottage in Rednal, which she was renting. She was then about 34 years of age, about as old as a person with diabetes mellitus type 1 could survive without treatment—insulin would not be discovered until 1921, two decades later. Nine years after her death, Tolkien wrote, "My own dear mother was a martyr indeed, and it is not to everybody that God grants so easy a way to his great gifts as he did to Hilary and myself, giving us a mother who killed herself with labour and trouble to ensure us keeping the faith." [19] 
 Before her death, Mabel Tolkien had assigned the guardianship of her sons to her close friend, Father Francis Xavier Morgan of the Birmingham Oratory, who was assigned to bring them up as good Catholics. [20]  In a 1965 letter to his son Michael, Tolkien recalled the influence of the man whom he always called "Father Francis": "He was an upper-class Welsh-Spaniard Tory, and seemed to some just a pottering old gossip. He was—and he was not. I first learned charity and forgiveness from him; and in the light of it pierced even the 'liberal' darkness out of which I came, knowing more about 'Bloody Mary' than the Mother of Jesus—who was never mentioned except as an object of wicked worship by the Romanists." [T 1]  After his mother's death, Tolkien grew up in the Edgbaston area of Birmingham and attended King Edward's School, Birmingham, and later St Philip's School. In 1903, he won a Foundation Scholarship and returned to King Edward's. [21] 
Youth
While in his early teens, Tolkien had his first encounter with a constructed language, Animalic, an invention of his cousins, Mary and Marjorie Incledon. At that time, he was studying Latin and Anglo-Saxon. Their interest in Animalic soon died away, but Mary and others, including Tolkien himself, invented a new and more complex language called Nevbosh. The next constructed language he came to work with, Naffarin, would be his own creation. [22]   [23]  Tolkien learned Esperanto some time before 1909. Around 10 June 1909 he composed "The Book of the Foxrook", a sixteen-page notebook, where the "earliest example of one of his invented alphabets" appears. [24]  Short texts in this notebook are written in Esperanto. [25] 
 In 1911, while they were at King Edward's School, Tolkien and three friends, Rob Gilson, Geoffrey Bache Smith, and Christopher Wiseman, formed a semi-secret society they called the T.C.B.S. The initials stood for Tea Club and Barrovian Society, alluding to their fondness for drinking tea in Barrow's Stores near the school and, secretly, in the school library. [26]   [27]  After leaving school, the members stayed in touch and, in December 1914, they held a council in London at Wiseman's home. For Tolkien, the result of this meeting was a strong dedication to writing poetry.[ citation needed ]
 In 1911, Tolkien went on a summer holiday in Switzerland, a trip that he recollects vividly in a 1968 letter, [T 2]  noting that Bilbo's journey across the Misty Mountains ("including the glissade down the slithering stones into the pine woods") is directly based on his adventures as their party of 12 hiked from Interlaken to Lauterbrunnen and on to camp in the moraines beyond Mürren. Fifty-seven years later, Tolkien remembered his regret at leaving the view of the eternal snows of Jungfrau and Silberhorn, "the Silvertine (Celebdil) of my dreams". They went across the Kleine Scheidegg to Grindelwald and on across the Grosse Scheidegg to Meiringen. They continued across the Grimsel Pass, through the upper Valais to Brig and on to the Aletsch glacier and Zermatt. [28] 
 In October of the same year, Tolkien began studying at Exeter College, Oxford. He initially read classics but changed his course in 1913 to English language and literature, graduating in 1915 with first-class honours. [29]  Among his tutors at Oxford was Joseph Wright, whose Primer of the Gothic Language had inspired Tolkien as a schoolboy. [30] 
Courtship and marriage
At the age of 16, Tolkien met Edith Mary Bratt, who was three years his senior, when he and his brother Hilary moved into the boarding house where she lived in Duchess Road, Edgbaston. According to Humphrey Carpenter, "Edith and Ronald took to frequenting Birmingham teashops, especially one which had a balcony overlooking the pavement. There they would sit and throw sugarlumps into the hats of passers-by, moving to the next table when the sugar bowl was empty. ... With two people of their personalities and in their position, romance was bound to flourish. Both were orphans in need of affection, and they found that they could give it to each other. During the summer of 1909, they decided that they were in love." [31] 
 His guardian, Father Morgan, considered it "altogether unfortunate" [T 3]  that his surrogate son was romantically involved with an older, Protestant woman; Tolkien wrote that the combined tensions contributed to his having "muffed [his] exams". [T 3]  Morgan prohibited him from meeting, talking to, or even corresponding with Edith until he was 21. Tolkien obeyed this prohibition to the letter, [32]  with one notable early exception, over which Father Morgan threatened to cut short his university career if he did not stop. [33] 
 On the evening of his 21st birthday, Tolkien wrote to Edith, who was living with family friend C. H. Jessop at Cheltenham. He declared that he had never ceased to love her, and asked her to marry him. Edith replied that she had already accepted the proposal of George Field, the brother of one of her closest school friends. But Edith said she had agreed to marry Field only because she felt "on the shelf" and had begun to doubt that Tolkien still cared for her. She explained that, because of Tolkien's letter, everything had changed. [34] 
 On 8 January 1913, Tolkien travelled by train to Cheltenham and was met on the platform by Edith. The two took a walk into the countryside, sat under a railway viaduct, and talked. By the end of the day, Edith had agreed to accept Tolkien's proposal. She wrote to Field and returned her engagement ring. Field was "dreadfully upset at first", and the Field family was "insulted and angry". [34]  Upon learning of Edith's new plans, Jessop wrote to her guardian, "I have nothing to say against Tolkien, he is a cultured gentleman, but his prospects are poor in the extreme, and when he will be in a position to marry I cannot imagine. Had he adopted a profession it would have been different." [35] 
 Following their engagement, Edith reluctantly announced that she was converting to Catholicism at Tolkien's insistence. Jessop, "like many others of his age and class ... strongly anti-Catholic", was infuriated, and he ordered Edith to find other lodgings. [36] 
 Edith Bratt and Ronald Tolkien were formally engaged at Birmingham in January 1913, and married at St Mary Immaculate Catholic Church at Warwick, on 22 March 1916. [37]  In his 1941 letter to Michael, Tolkien expressed admiration for his wife's willingness to marry a man with no job, little money, and no prospects except the likelihood of being killed in the Great War. [T 3] 
First World War
In August 1914, Britain entered the First World War. Tolkien's relatives were shocked when he elected not to volunteer immediately for the British Army. In a 1941 letter to his son Michael, Tolkien recalled: "In those days chaps joined up, or were scorned publicly. It was a nasty cleft to be in for a young man with too much imagination and little physical courage." [T 3]  Instead, Tolkien, "endured the obloquy", [T 3]  and entered a programme by which he delayed enlistment until completing his degree. By the time he passed his finals in July 1915, Tolkien recalled that the hints were "becoming outspoken from relatives". [T 3]  He was commissioned as a temporary second lieutenant in the Lancashire Fusiliers on 15 July 1915. [38]   [39]  He trained with the 13th (Reserve) Battalion on Cannock Chase, Rugeley Camp near to Rugeley, Staffordshire, for 11 months. In a letter to Edith, Tolkien complained: "Gentlemen are rare among the superiors, and even human beings rare indeed." [40]  Following their wedding, Lieutenant and Mrs. Tolkien took up lodgings near the training camp. [38]  On 2 June 1916, Tolkien received a telegram summoning him to Folkestone for posting to France. The Tolkiens spent the night before his departure in a room at the Plough &amp; Harrow Hotel in Edgbaston, Birmingham. [41]  He later wrote: "Junior officers were being killed off, a dozen a minute. Parting from my wife then... it was like a death." [42] 
France
On 5 June 1916, Tolkien boarded a troop transport for an overnight voyage to Calais. Like other soldiers arriving for the first time, he was sent to the British Expeditionary Force's (BEF) base depot at Étaples. On 7 June, he was informed that he had been assigned as a signals officer to the 11th (Service) Battalion, Lancashire Fusiliers. The battalion was part of the 74th Brigade, 25th Division. While waiting to be summoned to his unit, Tolkien sank into boredom. To pass the time, he composed a poem entitled The Lonely Isle, which was inspired by his feelings during the sea crossing to Calais. To evade the British Army's postal censorship, he developed a code of dots by which Edith could track his movements. [43]  He left Étaples on 27 June 1916 and joined his battalion at Rubempré, near Amiens. [44]  He found himself commanding enlisted men who were drawn mainly from the mining, milling, and weaving towns of Lancashire. [45]  According to John Garth, he "felt an affinity for these working class men", but military protocol prohibited friendships with "other ranks". Instead, he was required to "take charge of them, discipline them, train them, and probably censor their letters ... If possible, he was supposed to inspire their love and loyalty." [46]  Tolkien later lamented, "The most improper job of any man ... is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity." [46] 
Battle of the Somme
     
Tolkien arrived at the Somme in early July 1916. In between terms behind the lines at Bouzincourt, he participated in the assaults on the Schwaben Redoubt and the Leipzig salient. Tolkien's time in combat was a terrible stress for Edith, who feared that every knock on the door might carry news of her husband's death. Edith could track her husband's movements on a map of the Western Front. The Reverend Mervyn S. Evers, Anglican chaplain to the Lancashire Fusiliers, recorded that Tolkien and his fellow officers were eaten by "hordes of lice" which found the Medical Officer's ointment merely "a kind of  hors d'oeuvre  and the little beggars went at their feast with renewed vigour." [47]  On 27 October 1916, as his battalion attacked Regina Trench, Tolkien contracted trench fever, a disease carried by lice. He was invalided to England on 8 November 1916. [48]  Many of his dearest school friends were killed in the war. Among their number were Rob Gilson of the Tea Club and Barrovian Society, who was killed on the first day of the Somme while leading his men in the assault on Beaumont Hamel. Fellow T.C.B.S. member Geoffrey Smith was killed during the battle, when a German artillery shell landed on a first-aid post. Tolkien's battalion was almost completely wiped out following his return to England. [49] 
     
According to John Garth, Kitchener's Army, in which Tolkien served, at once marked existing social boundaries and counteracted the class system by throwing everyone into a desperate situation together. Tolkien was grateful, writing that it had taught him "a deep sympathy and feeling for the Tommy; especially the plain soldier from the agricultural counties". [50] 
Home front
A weak and emaciated Tolkien spent the remainder of the war alternating between hospitals and garrison duties, being deemed medically unfit for general service. [51]   [52]   [53]  During his recovery in a cottage in Little Haywood, Staffordshire, he began to work on what he called  The Book of Lost Tales , beginning with  The Fall of Gondolin . Lost Tales represented Tolkien's attempt to create a mythology for England, a project he would abandon without ever completing. [54]  Throughout 1917 and 1918 his illness kept recurring, but he had recovered enough to do home service at various camps. It was at this time that Edith bore their first child, John Francis Reuel Tolkien. In a 1941 letter, Tolkien described his son John as "(conceived and carried during the starvation-year of 1917 and the great U-Boat campaign) round about the Battle of Cambrai, when the end of the war seemed as far off as it does now". [T 3]  Tolkien was promoted to the temporary rank of lieutenant on 6 January 1918. [55]  When he was stationed at Kingston upon Hull, he and Edith went walking in the woods at nearby Roos, and Edith began to dance for him in a clearing among the flowering hemlock. After his wife's death in 1971, Tolkien remembered, [T 4] 
 I never called Edith Luthien—but she was the source of the story that in time became the chief part of the Silmarillion. It was first conceived in a small woodland glade filled with hemlocks [56]  at Roos in Yorkshire (where I was for a brief time in command of an outpost of the Humber Garrison in 1917, and she was able to live with me for a while). In those days her hair was raven, her skin clear, her eyes brighter than you have seen them, and she could sing—and dance. But the story has gone crooked, &amp; I am left, and I cannot plead before the inexorable Mandos. [T 4]   
On 16 July 1919, Tolkien was taken off active service, at Fovant, on Salisbury Plain, with a temporary disability pension. [57] 
Academic and writing career
      2 Darnley Road, the former home of Tolkien in West Park, Leeds   
     
On 3 November 1920, Tolkien was demobilized and left the army, retaining his rank of lieutenant. [58]  His first civilian job after World War I was at the  Oxford English Dictionary , where he worked mainly on the history and etymology of words of Germanic origin beginning with the letter W. [59]  In 1920, he took up a post as reader in English language at the University of Leeds, becoming the youngest member of the academic staff there. [60]  While at Leeds, he produced A Middle English Vocabulary and a definitive edition of  Sir Gawain and the Green Knight  with E. V. Gordon; both became academic standard works for several decades. He translated Sir Gawain,  Pearl , and  Sir Orfeo . In 1925, he returned to Oxford as Rawlinson and Bosworth Professor of Anglo-Saxon, with a fellowship at Pembroke College.[ citation needed ]
 In mid-1919, he began to tutor undergraduates privately, most importantly those of Lady Margaret Hall and St Hugh's College, given that the women's colleges were in great need of good teachers in their early years, and Tolkien as a married professor (then still not common) was considered suitable, as a bachelor don would not have been. [61] 
 During his time at Pembroke College Tolkien wrote  The Hobbit  and the first two volumes of The Lord of the Rings, while living at 20 Northmoor Road in North Oxford. He also published a philological essay in 1932 on the name "Nodens", following Sir Mortimer Wheeler's unearthing of a Roman Asclepeion at Lydney Park, Gloucestershire, in 1928. [62] 
 Beowulf 
In the 1920s, Tolkien undertook a translation of  Beowulf , which he finished in 1926, but did not publish. It was finally edited by his son and published in 2014, more than 40 years after Tolkien's death and almost 90 years after its completion. [63] 
 Ten years after finishing his translation, Tolkien gave a highly acclaimed lecture on the work, " Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics", which had a lasting influence on Beowulf research. [64]  Lewis E. Nicholson said that the article is "widely recognized as a turning point in Beowulfian criticism", noting that Tolkien established the primacy of the poetic nature of the work as opposed to its purely linguistic elements. [65]  At the time, the consensus of scholarship deprecated Beowulf for dealing with childish battles with monsters rather than realistic tribal warfare; Tolkien argued that the author of Beowulf was addressing human destiny in general, not as limited by particular tribal politics, and therefore the monsters were essential to the poem. [66]  Where Beowulf does deal with specific tribal struggles, as at Finnsburg, Tolkien argued firmly against reading in fantastic elements. [67]  In the essay, Tolkien also revealed how highly he regarded Beowulf: "Beowulf is among my most valued sources"; this influence may be seen throughout his Middle-earth legendarium. [68] 
 According to Humphrey Carpenter, Tolkien began his series of lectures on Beowulf in a most striking way, entering the room silently, fixing the audience with a look, and suddenly declaiming in Old English the opening lines of the poem, starting "with a great cry of  Hwæt!" It was a dramatic impersonation of an Anglo-Saxon bard in a mead hall, and it made the students realize that Beowulf was not just a set text but "a powerful piece of dramatic poetry". [69]  Decades later, W. H. Auden wrote to his former professor, thanking him for the "unforgettable experience" of hearing him recite Beowulf, and stating "The voice was the voice of Gandalf". [69] 
Second World War
       Merton College, where Tolkien was Professor of English Language and Literature (1945–1959)  
In the run-up to the Second World War, Tolkien was earmarked as a codebreaker. In January 1939, he was asked to serve in the cryptographic department of the Foreign Office in the event of national emergency. Beginning on 27 March, he took an instructional course at the London HQ of the Government Code and Cypher School. He was informed in October that his services would not be required. [70]   [T 5]   [71] 
 In 1945, Tolkien moved to Merton College, Oxford, becoming the Merton Professor of English Language and Literature, [72]  in which post he remained until his retirement in 1959. He served as an external examiner for University College, Galway (now NUI Galway), for many years. [73]  In 1954 Tolkien received an honorary degree from the National University of Ireland (of which University College, Galway, was a constituent college). [74]  Tolkien completed The Lord of the Rings in 1948, close to a decade after the first sketches. [75] 
Family
The Tolkiens had four children: John Francis Reuel Tolkien (17 November 1917 – 22 January 2003), Michael Hilary Reuel Tolkien (22 October 1920 – 27 February 1984), Christopher John Reuel Tolkien (21 November 1924 – 16 January 2020) and Priscilla Mary Anne Reuel Tolkien (18 June 1929 – 28 February 2022). [76]   [77]  Tolkien was very devoted to his children and sent them illustrated letters from Father Christmas when they were young. [78] 
Retirement
     
During his life in retirement, from 1959 up to his death in 1973, Tolkien received steadily increasing public attention and literary fame. In 1961, his friend C. S. Lewis even nominated him for the Nobel Prize in Literature. [79]  The sales of his books were so profitable that he regretted that he had not chosen early retirement. [15]  In a 1972 letter, he deplored having become a cult-figure, but admitted that "even the nose of a very modest idol ... cannot remain entirely untickled by the sweet smell of incense!" [T 6] 
 Fan attention became so intense that Tolkien had to take his phone number out of the public directory, [T 7]  and eventually he and Edith moved to Bournemouth, which was then a seaside resort patronized by the British upper middle class. Tolkien's status as a best-selling author gave them easy entry into polite society, but Tolkien deeply missed the company of his fellow Inklings. Edith, however, was overjoyed to step into the role of a society hostess, which had been the reason that Tolkien selected Bournemouth in the first place. The genuine and deep affection between Ronald and Edith was demonstrated by their care about the other's health, in details like wrapping presents, in the generous way he gave up his life at Oxford so she could retire to Bournemouth, and in her pride in his becoming a famous author. They were tied together, too, by love for their children and grandchildren. [80] 
 In his retirement Tolkien was a consultant and translator for  The Jerusalem Bible , published in 1966. He was initially assigned a larger portion to translate, but, due to other commitments, only managed to offer some criticisms of other contributors and a translation of the Book of Jonah. [T 8] 
Final years
     
Edith died on 29 November 1971, at the age of 82. Ronald returned to Oxford, where Merton College gave him convenient rooms near the High Street. He missed Edith, but enjoyed being back in the city. [81] 
 Tolkien was made a Commander of the Order of the British Empire in the 1972 New Year Honours  [82]  and received the insignia of the Order at Buckingham Palace on 28 March 1972. [T 9]  In the same year Oxford University gave him an honorary Doctorate of Letters. [29]   [83] 
 He had the name Luthien [ sic ] engraved on Edith's tombstone at Wolvercote Cemetery, Oxford. When Tolkien died 21 months later on 2 September 1973 from a bleeding ulcer and chest infection, [84]  at the age of 81, [85]  he was buried in the same grave, with "Beren" added to his name. Tolkien's will was proven on 20 December 1973, with his estate valued at £190,577 (equivalent to £2,452,000 in 2021). [86]   [87] 
Views
     
Religion
Tolkien's Catholicism was a significant factor in C. S. Lewis's conversion from atheism to Christianity, although Tolkien was dismayed that Lewis chose to join the Church of England. [88]  He once wrote to Rayner Unwin's daughter Camilla, who wished to know the purpose of life, that it was "to increase according to our capacity our knowledge of God by all the means we have, and to be moved by it to praise and thanks." [89]  He had a special devotion to the blessed sacrament, writing to his son Michael that in "the Blessed Sacrament ... you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth, and more than that". [T 3]  He accordingly encouraged frequent reception of Holy Communion, again writing to his son Michael that "the only cure for sagging of fainting faith is Communion." He believed the Catholic Church to be true most of all because of the pride of place and the honour in which it holds the Blessed Sacrament. [T 10]  In the last years of his life, Tolkien resisted the liturgical changes implemented after the Second Vatican Council, especially the use of English for the liturgy; he continued to make the responses in Latin, loudly, ignoring the rest of the congregation. [81] 
Race
Tolkien's fantasy writings have often been accused of embodying outmoded attitudes to race. [90]   [91]  However, scholars have noted that he was influenced by Victorian attitudes to race and to a literary tradition of monsters, and that he was anti-racist both in peacetime and during the two World Wars. With the late 19th century background of eugenics and a fear of moral decline, some critics saw the mention of race mixing in The Lord of the Rings as embodying scientific racism. [92]  Other commentators saw in Tolkien's orcs a reflection of wartime propaganda caricatures of the Japanese. [93]  Critics have noted, too, that the work embodies a moral geography, with good in the West, evil in the East. [94]  Against this, scholars have noted that Tolkien was outraged in peacetime by Nazi racial theory, while during the Second World War he was equally disgusted by anti-German racial propaganda. [95]   [96]  Other scholars have stated that Tolkien's Middle-earth is definitely polycultural and polylingual, and that attacks on Tolkien based on The Lord of the Rings often omit relevant evidence from the text. [97]   [98] 
Nature
During most of his own life conservationism was not yet on the political agenda, and Tolkien himself did not directly express conservationist views—except in some private letters, in which he tells about his fondness for forests and sadness at tree-felling. In later years, a number of authors of biographies or literary analyses of Tolkien conclude that during his writing of The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien gained increased interest in the value of wild and untamed nature, and in protecting what wild nature was left in the industrialized world. [99]   [100]   [101] 
Writing
Influences
Tolkien's fantasy books on Middle-earth, especially The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion, drew on a wide array of influences including his philological interest in language, [102]  Christianity, [103]   [104]  medievalism, [105]  mythology, archaeology, [106]  ancient and modern literature, and personal experience. His philological work centred on the study of Old English literature, especially  Beowulf , and he acknowledged its importance to his writings. [107]  He was a gifted linguist, influenced by Germanic, [108]  Celtic, [109]  Finnish, [110]  and Greek [111]   [112]  language and mythology. Commentators have attempted to identify many literary and topological antecedents for characters, places and events in Tolkien's writings. Some writers were important to him, including the Arts and Crafts polymath William Morris, [113]  and he undoubtedly made use of some real place-names, such as Bag End, the name of his aunt's home. [114]  He acknowledged, too, John Buchan and H. Rider Haggard, authors of modern adventure stories that he enjoyed. [115]   [116]   [117]  The effects of some specific experiences have been identified. Tolkien's childhood in the English countryside, and its urbanization by the growth of Birmingham, influenced his creation of the Shire, [118]  while his personal experience of fighting in the trenches of the First World War affected his depiction of Mordor. [119] 
Publications
"Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics"
In addition to writing fiction, Tolkien was an author of academic literary criticism. His seminal 1936 lecture, later published as an article, revolutionized the treatment of the Anglo-Saxon epic  Beowulf  by literary critics. The essay remains highly influential in the study of Old English literature to this day. [120]  Beowulf is one of the most significant influences upon Tolkien's later fiction, with major details of both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings being adapted from the poem. [121] 
"On Fairy-Stories"
This essay discusses the fairy-story as a literary form. It was initially written as the 1939 Andrew Lang Lecture at the University of St Andrews, Scotland. Tolkien focuses on Andrew Lang's work as a folklorist and collector of fairy tales. He disagreed with Lang's broad inclusion, in his Fairy Book collections, of traveller's tales, beast fables, and other types of stories. Tolkien held a narrower perspective, viewing fairy stories as those that took place in Faerie, an enchanted realm, with or without fairies as characters. He viewed them as the natural development of the interaction of human imagination and human language. [122] 
Children's books and other short works
In addition to his mythopoeic compositions, Tolkien enjoyed inventing fantasy stories to entertain his children. [123]  He wrote annual Christmas letters from Father Christmas for them, building up a series of short stories (later compiled and published as  The Father Christmas Letters ). [124]  Other works included  Mr. Bliss  and  Roverandom  (for children), and  Leaf by Niggle  (part of  Tree and Leaf ),  The Adventures of Tom Bombadil ,  Smith of Wootton Major  and  Farmer Giles of Ham . Roverandom and Smith of Wootton Major, like The Hobbit, borrowed ideas from his legendarium. [125] 
 The Hobbit 
Tolkien never expected his stories to become popular, but by sheer accident a book called  The Hobbit , which he had written some years before for his own children, came in 1936 to the attention of Susan Dagnall, an employee of the London publishing firm George Allen &amp; Unwin, who persuaded Tolkien to submit it for publication. [85]  When it was published a year later, the book attracted adult readers as well as children, and it became popular enough for the publishers to ask Tolkien to produce a sequel. [126] 
 The Lord of the Rings 
The request for a sequel prompted Tolkien to begin what became his most famous work: the epic novel  The Lord of the Rings  (originally published in three volumes in 1954–1955). Tolkien spent more than ten years writing the primary narrative and appendices for The Lord of the Rings, during which time he received the constant support of the Inklings, in particular his closest friend C. S. Lewis, the author of  The Chronicles of Narnia . Both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are set against the background of The Silmarillion, but in a time long after it. [127] 
 Tolkien at first intended The Lord of the Rings to be a children's tale in the style of The Hobbit, but it quickly grew darker and more serious in the writing. [128]  Though a direct sequel to The Hobbit, it addressed an older audience, drawing on the immense backstory of Beleriand that Tolkien had constructed in previous years, and which eventually saw posthumous publication in The Silmarillion and other volumes. [127]  Tolkien strongly influenced the fantasy genre that grew up after the book's success. [129] 
  The Lord of the Rings became immensely popular in the 1960s and has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the 20th century, judged by both sales and reader surveys. [130]  In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted by the BBC, The Lord of the Rings was found to be the UK's "Best-loved Novel". [131]  Australians voted The Lord of the Rings "My Favourite Book" in a 2004 survey conducted by the Australian ABC. [132]  In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, The Lord of the Rings was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium". [133]  In 2002 Tolkien was voted the 92nd "greatest Briton" in a poll conducted by the BBC, and in 2004 he was voted 35th in the SABC3's Great South Africans, the only person to appear in both lists. His popularity is not limited to the English-speaking world: in a 2004 poll inspired by the UK's "Big Read" survey, about 250,000 Germans found The Lord of the Rings to be their favourite work of literature. [134] 
 The Silmarillion 
Tolkien wrote a brief "Sketch of the Mythology", which included the tales of Beren and Lúthien and of Túrin; and that sketch eventually evolved into the  Quenta Silmarillion , an epic history that Tolkien started three times but never published. Tolkien desperately hoped to publish it along with The Lord of the Rings, but publishers (both Allen &amp; Unwin and Collins) declined. Moreover, printing costs were very high in 1950s Britain, requiring The Lord of the Rings to be published in three volumes. [135]  The story of this continuous redrafting is told in the posthumous series  The History of Middle-earth , edited by Tolkien's son, Christopher Tolkien. From around 1936, Tolkien began to extend this framework to include the tale of The Fall of Númenor , which was inspired by the legend of Atlantis. [136] 
 Tolkien appointed his son Christopher to be his literary executor, and he (with assistance from Guy Gavriel Kay, later a well-known fantasy author in his own right) organized some of this material into a single coherent volume, published as  The Silmarillion  in 1977. It received the Locus Award for Best Fantasy novel in 1978. [137] 
 Unfinished Tales and The History of Middle-earth 
In 1980, Christopher Tolkien published a collection of more fragmentary material, under the title  Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth . In subsequent years (1983–1996), he published a large amount of the remaining unpublished materials, together with notes and extensive commentary, in a series of twelve volumes called  The History of Middle-earth . They contain unfinished, abandoned, alternative, and outright contradictory accounts, since they were always a work in progress for Tolkien and he only rarely settled on a definitive version for any of the stories. There is not complete consistency between The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, the two most closely related works, because Tolkien never fully integrated all their traditions into each other. He commented in 1965, while editing The Hobbit for a third edition, that he would have preferred to rewrite the book completely because of the style of its prose. [138] 
Works compiled by Christopher Tolkien
 
Date
Title
Description
 
2007
  The Children of Húrin  
tells the story of Túrin Turambar and his sister Nienor, children of Húrin Thalion. [139] 
 
2009
  The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún  
retells the legend of Sigurd and the fall of the Niflungs from Germanic mythology as a narrative poem in alliterative verse, modelled after the Old Norse poetry of the Elder Edda. [140] 
 
2013
  The Fall of Arthur  
is a narrative poem that Tolkien composed in the early 1930s, inspired by high medieval Arthurian fiction but set in the Post-Roman Migration Period, showing Arthur as a British warlord fighting the Saxon invasion. [141] 
 
2014
  Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary  
is a prose translation of  Beowulf  that Tolkien made in the 1920s, with commentary from Tolkien's lecture notes. [142]   [143] 
 
2015
  The Story of Kullervo  
is a retelling of a 19th-century Finnish poem that Tolkien wrote in 1915 while studying at Oxford. [144] 
 
2017
  Beren and Lúthien  
is one of the oldest and most often revised in Tolkien's legendarium; a version appeared in The Silmarillion. [145] 
 
2018
  The Fall of Gondolin  
tells of a beautiful, mysterious city destroyed by dark forces; Tolkien called it "the first real story" of Middle-earth. [146]   [147] 
   
Manuscript locations
Before his death, Tolkien negotiated the sale of the manuscripts, drafts, proofs and other materials related to his then-published works—including The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit and Farmer Giles of Ham—to the Department of Special Collections and University Archives at Marquette University's John P. Raynor, S.J., Library in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. [148]  After his death his estate donated the papers containing Tolkien's Silmarillion mythology and his academic work to the Bodleian Library at Oxford University. [149]  The Bodleian Library held an exhibition of his work in 2018, including more than 60 items which had never been seen in public before. [150] 
 In 2009, a partial draft of  Language and Human Nature , which Tolkien had begun co-writing with C. S. Lewis but had never completed, was discovered at the Bodleian Library. [151] 
Languages and philology
Linguistic career
Both Tolkien's academic career and his literary production are inseparable from his love of language and philology. He specialized in English philology at university and in 1915 graduated with Old Norse as his special subject. He worked on the  Oxford English Dictionary  from 1918 and is credited with having worked on a number of words starting with the letter W, including  walrus , over which he struggled mightily. [152]   [153]  In 1920, he became Reader in English Language at the University of Leeds, where he claimed credit for raising the number of students of linguistics from five to twenty. He gave courses in Old English heroic verse, history of English, various Old English and Middle English texts, Old and Middle English philology, introductory Germanic philology, Gothic, Old Icelandic, and Medieval Welsh. When in 1925, aged thirty-three, Tolkien applied for the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon at Pembroke College, Oxford, he boasted that his students of Germanic philology in Leeds had even formed a "Viking Club". [T 11]  He also had a certain, if imperfect, knowledge of Finnish. [154] 
 Privately, Tolkien was attracted to "things of racial and linguistic significance", and in his 1955 lecture  English and Welsh , which is crucial to his understanding of race and language, he entertained notions of "inherent linguistic predilections", which he termed the "native language" as opposed to the "cradle-tongue" which a person first learns to speak. [155]  He considered the West Midlands dialect of Middle English to be his own "native language", and, as he wrote to W. H. Auden in 1955, "I am a West-midlander by blood (and took to early west-midland Middle English as a known tongue as soon as I set eyes on it)." [T 12] 
Language construction
       Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees!, the beginning of the Quenya poem Namárië written in Tengwar and in Latin script  
Parallel to Tolkien's professional work as a philologist, and sometimes overshadowing this work, to the effect that his academic output remained rather thin, was his affection for constructing languages. The most developed of these are Quenya and Sindarin, the etymological connection between which formed the core of much of Tolkien's legendarium. Language and grammar for Tolkien was a matter of aesthetics and euphony, and Quenya in particular was designed from "phonaesthetic" considerations; it was intended as an "Elven-latin", and was phonologically based on Latin, with ingredients from Finnish, Welsh, English, and Greek. [T 13]  An addition from late 1945 was Adûnaic or Númenórean, a language of a "faintly Semitic flavour", connected with Tolkien's Atlantis legend, which by  The Notion Club Papers  ties directly into his ideas about the inability of language to be inherited, and via the "Second Age" and the story of Eärendil was grounded in the legendarium, thereby providing a link of Tolkien's 20th-century "real primary world" with the legendary past of his Middle-earth.[ citation needed ]
 Tolkien considered languages inseparable from the mythology associated with them, and he consequently took a dim view of auxiliary languages: in 1930 a congress of Esperantists were told as much by him, in his lecture  A Secret Vice , [156]  "Your language construction will breed a mythology", but by 1956 he had concluded that "Volapük, Esperanto, Ido, Novial, &amp;c, &amp;c, are dead, far deader than ancient unused languages, because their authors never invented any Esperanto legends". [T 14] 
 The popularity of Tolkien's books has had a small but lasting effect on the use of language in fantasy literature in particular, and even on mainstream dictionaries, which today commonly accept Tolkien's idiosyncratic spellings dwarves and dwarvish (alongside dwarfs and dwarfish), which had been little used since the mid-19th century and earlier. (In fact, according to Tolkien, had the Old English plural survived, it would have been dwarrows or dwerrows.) He also coined the term  eucatastrophe , though it remains mainly used in connection with his own work.[ citation needed ]
Artwork
Tolkien learnt to paint and draw as a child, and continued to do so all his adult life. From early in his writing career, the development of his stories was accompanied by drawings and paintings, especially of landscapes, and by maps of the lands in which the tales were set. He also produced pictures to accompany the stories told to his own children, including those later published in Mr Bliss and Roverandom, and sent them elaborately illustrated letters purporting to come from Father Christmas. Although he regarded himself as an amateur, the publisher used the author's own cover art, his maps, and full-page illustrations for the early editions of The Hobbit. He prepared maps and illustrations for The Lord of the Rings, but the first edition contained only the maps, his calligraphy for the inscription on the One Ring, and his ink drawing of the Doors of Durin. Much of his artwork was collected and published in 1995 as a book:  J. R. R. Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator . The book discusses Tolkien's paintings, drawings, and sketches, and reproduces approximately 200 examples of his work. [157]  Catherine McIlwaine curated a major exhibition of Tolkien's artwork at the Bodleian Library,  Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth , accompanied by a book of the same name that analyses Tolkien's achievement and illustrates the full range of the types of artwork that he created. [158] 
Legacy
Influence
While many other authors had published works of fantasy before Tolkien, the great success of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings led directly to a popular resurgence and the shaping of the modern fantasy genre. This has caused Tolkien to be popularly identified as the "father" of modern fantasy literature [159]   [160] —or, more precisely, of high fantasy, [161]  as in the work of authors such as Ursula Le Guin and her  Earthsea  series. [162]  In 2008,  The Times  ranked him sixth on a list of "The 50 greatest British writers since 1945". [163]  His influence has extended to music, including the Danish group the Tolkien Ensemble's setting of all the poetry in The Lord of the Rings  to their vocal music; [164]  and to a broad range of games set in Middle-earth. [165] 
Adaptations
In a 1951 letter to publisher Milton Waldman (1895–1976), Tolkien wrote about his intentions to create a "body of more or less connected legend", of which "[t]he cycles should be linked to a majestic whole, and yet leave scope for other minds and hands, wielding paint and music and drama". [T 15]  The hands and minds of many artists have indeed been inspired by Tolkien's legends. Personally known to him were Pauline Baynes (Tolkien's favourite illustrator of  The Adventures of Tom Bombadil  and  Farmer Giles of Ham ) and Donald Swann (who set the music to  The Road Goes Ever On ). Queen Margrethe II of Denmark created illustrations to The Lord of the Rings in the early 1970s. She sent them to Tolkien, who was struck by the similarity they bore in style to his own drawings. [166]  Tolkien was not implacably opposed to the idea of a dramatic adaptation, however, and sold the film, stage and merchandise rights of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings to United Artists in 1968. United Artists never made a film, although director John Boorman was planning a live-action film in the early 1970s. In 1976, the rights were sold to Tolkien Enterprises, a division of the Saul Zaentz Company, and the first film adaptation of  The Lord of the Rings  was released in 1978 as an animated rotoscoping film directed by Ralph Bakshi with screenplay by the fantasy writer Peter S. Beagle. It covered only the first half of the story of The Lord of the Rings. [167] 
 In 1977, an animated musical television film of  The Hobbit  was made by Rankin-Bass, and in 1980, they produced the animated musical television film  The Return of the King , which covered some of the portions of The Lord of the Rings that Bakshi was unable to complete. From 2001 to 2003, New Line Cinema released  The Lord of the Rings  as a trilogy of live-action films that were filmed in New Zealand and directed by Peter Jackson. The series was successful, performing extremely well commercially and winning numerous Oscars. [168] 
From 2012 to 2014, Warner Bros. and New Line Cinema released  The Hobbit , a series of three films based on The Hobbit, with Peter Jackson serving as executive producer, director, and co-writer. [169]  The first instalment,  The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey , was released in December 2012; [170]  the second,  The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug , in December 2013; [171]  and the last instalment,  The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies , in December 2014. [172]  In 2017, Amazon acquired the global television rights to  The Lord of the Rings , for a series of new stories set before The Fellowship of the Ring. [173]   [174] 
Memorials
Tolkien and the characters and places from his works have become eponyms of many real-world objects. These include geographical features on Titan (Saturn's largest moon), [175] 
street names such as There and Back Again Lane, inspired by The Hobbit, [176] 
mountains such as Mount Shadowfax, Mount Gandalf and Mount Aragorn in Canada, [177]   [178] 
companies such as Palantir Technologies, [179] 
and species including the wasp  Shireplitis tolkieni, [180]  37 new species of  Elachista  moths, [180]   [181]  and many fossils. [182]   [183]   [184] 
 Since 2003, The Tolkien Society has organized Tolkien Reading Day, which takes place on 25 March in schools around the world. [185]  In 2013, Pembroke College, Oxford University, established an annual lecture on fantasy literature in Tolkien's honour. [186]  In 2012, Tolkien was among the British cultural icons selected by artist Sir Peter Blake to appear in a new version of his most famous artwork—the Beatles'  Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band  album cover—to celebrate the British cultural figures of his life that he most admired. [187]   [188]  A 2019 biographical film,  Tolkien , focused on Tolkien's early life and war experiences. [189]  The Tolkien family and estate stated that they did not "approve of, authorise or participate in the making of" the film. [190] 
     
Several blue plaques in England commemorate places associated with Tolkien, including for his childhood, his workplaces, and places he visited. [41]   [191]   [192] 
 
Address
Commemoration
Date unveiled
Issued by
 
 Sarehole Mill, Hall Green, Birmingham
"Inspired" 1896–1900 (i.e. lived nearby)
15 August 2002
 Birmingham Civic Society and The Tolkien Society  [193] 
 
1 Duchess Place, Ladywood, Birmingham
Lived near here 1902–1910
Unknown
Birmingham Civic Society [194] 
 
4 Highfield Road, Edgbaston, Birmingham
Lived here 1910–1911
Unknown
Birmingham Civic Society and The Tolkien Society [195] 
 
Plough and Harrow, Hagley Road, Birmingham
Stayed here June 1916
June 1997
The Tolkien Society [196] 
 
2 Darnley Road, West Park, Leeds
First academic appointment, Leeds
1 October 2012
The Tolkien Society and Leeds Civic Trust  [197] 
 
20 Northmoor Road, North Oxford
Lived here 1930–1947
3 December 2002
 Oxfordshire Blue Plaques Board  [198] 
 
Hotel Miramar, East Overcliff Drive, Bournemouth
Stayed here regularly from the 1950s until 1972
10 June 1992 by Priscilla Tolkien
Borough of Bournemouth [199] 
   
The Royal Mint is producing a commemorative £2 coin in 2023 to mark the 50th anniversary of Tolkien's death. [200] 
Canonization process
On 2 September 2017, the Oxford Oratory, Tolkien's parish church during his time in Oxford, offered its first Mass for the intention of Tolkien's cause for beatification to be opened. [201]   [202]  A prayer was written for his cause. [201] 
Notes
 
  ^  Tolkien pronounced his surname  TOL-keen . [1]  [ page needed ] In General American, the surname is commonly pronounced  TOHL-keen . [2] 
 
References
Primary
 
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #267.
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #306 to Michael Tolkien, 1967 or 1968
^    a       b       c       d       e       f       g       h    Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #43 to Michael Tolkien, 6–8 March 1941
^    a       b    Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #340.
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #35 (see also editorial note).
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #336 to Sir Patrick Browne, 23 May 1972
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #332 to Michael Tolkien, 24 January 1972
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #294 to Charlotte and Denis Plimmer, 8 February 1967
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #334 (editorial note).
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #250 to Michael Tolkien, 1 November 1963
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #7, to the Electors of the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon, University of Oxford, 27 June 1925
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #163.
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #144.
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #180.
  ^  Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #131
 
Secondary
 
  ^   Tolkien, Christopher, ed. (1988). The Return of the Shadow: The History of The Lord of the Rings, Part One. The History of Middle-earth. Vol. 6. ISBN  0-04-440162-0 .
  ^   Wells, John C. (2008). Longman Pronunciation Dictionary (3rd ed.). Longman. ISBN  978-1-4058-8118-0 .
^    a       b       c       d    Derdziński, Ryszard (2017). "On J. R. R. Tolkien's Roots" (PDF). Archived from the original (PDF) on 10 January 2019.
^    a       b       c    Derdziński, Ryszard. "Z Prus do Anglii. Saga rodziny J. R. R. Tolkiena (XIV–XIX wiek)" (PDF). Archived from the original (PDF) on 10 January 2019.
  ^   "Absolute Verteilung des Namens 'Tolkien'". verwandt.de (in German). MyHeritage UK. Archived from the original on 10 May 2013. Retrieved 9 January 2012.
  ^   "Ash nazg gimbatul".  Der Spiegel  (in German). No. 35/1969. 25 August 1969. Archived from the original on 27 April 2011. Professor Tolkien, der seinen Namen vom deutschen Wort 'tollkühn' ableitet,... . 
  ^  Geier, Fabian (2009). J. R. R. Tolkien (in German). Rowohlt Taschenbuch Verlag. p. 9. ISBN  978-3-499-50664-2 .
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 14
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 13 Both the spider incident and the visit to the homestead are covered here.
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 24
  ^  Carpenter 1977, Ch I, "Bloemfontein". At 9 Ashfield Road, King's Heath.
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 27
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 113
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 29
^    a       b    Doughan, David (2002). "JRR Tolkien Biography". Life of Tolkien. Archived from the original on 3 March 2006.
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 22
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 30
  ^  Carpenter 1977, pp. 24–51
^    a       b    Carpenter 1977, p. 31
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 39
  ^  Carpenter 1977, pp. 25–38
  ^   "Tolkien's Not-So-Secret Vice". Archived from the original on 22 November 2012.
  ^   "Tolkien's Languages". Archived from the original on 24 December 2013.
  ^  Bramlett, Perry C. (2002).  I Am in Fact a Hobbit: An Introduction to the Life and Works of J. R. R. Tolkien . Mercer University Press. p. 136. ISBN  978-0-86554-894-7 . Archived from the original on 15 February 2017. See also: Book of the Foxrook Archived 2 February 2017 at the Wayback Machine
  ^  Smith, Arden R. (2006). "Esperanto". In Drout, Michael D. C. (ed.).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment . Routledge. p. 172, and Book of the Foxrook Archived 2 February 2017 at the Wayback Machine; transcription on Tolkien i Esperanto Archived 19 October 2016 at the Wayback Machine; the text begins with "PRIVATA KODO SKAŬTA" (Private Scout Code)
  ^  Carpenter 1977, pp. 53–54
  ^   Tolkien and the Great War , p. 6.
  ^   "1911 – J. R. R. Tolkien besichtigt das Oberwallis". Valais Wallis Digital (in German). Archived from the original on 5 March 2016. citing Carpenter &amp; Tolkien 1981, Letters #306.
^    a       b     Hammond, Wayne G.; Scull, Christina (26 February 2004). The Lord of the Rings JRR Tolkien Author and Illustrator. Royal Mail Group plc (commemorative postage stamp pack).
  ^  Carpenter 1977, pp. 45, 63–64
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 40
  ^  Doughan, David (2002). "War, Lost Tales and Academia". J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch. Archived from the original on 3 March 2006.
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 43
^    a       b    Carpenter 1977, pp. 67–69
  ^  The Tolkien Family Album, (1992), p. 34.
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 73
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 86
^    a       b    Carpenter 1977, pp. 77–85
  ^   "No. 29232".  The London Gazette . 16 July 1915. p. 6968.
  ^   Tolkien and the Great War , p. 94.
^    a       b     "Memorials". The Tolkien Society. 29 October 2016. Archived from the original on 8 March 2021. Retrieved 3 March 2021.
  ^  Garth 2003, p. 138
  ^  Garth 2003, pp. 144–145
  ^  Garth 2003, pp. 147–148
  ^  Garth 2003, pp. 148–149
^    a       b    Garth 2003, p. 149
  ^  Quoted in Garth 2003, p. 200
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 93
  ^  Carpenter 1977, pp. 93, 103, 105
  ^  Garth 2003, pp. 94–95
  ^  Garth 2003, pp. 207 et seq.
  ^  Tolkien's Webley .455 service revolver was put on display in 2006 as part of a Battle of the Somme exhibition in the Imperial War Museum, London. (See  "Second Lieutenant J R R Tolkien". Battle of the Somme. Imperial War Museum. Archived from the original on 25 November 2018. and  "Webley.455 Mark 6 (VI Military)". Imperial War Museum Collection Search. Imperial War Museum. Archived from the original on 25 November 2018.)
  ^  Several of his service records, mostly dealing with his health problems, can be seen at the National Archives. ( "Officer's service record: J R R Tolkien". First World War. National Archives. Archived from the original on 8 March 2009. Retrieved 2 December 2007.)
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 98
  ^   "No. 30588".  The London Gazette  (Supplement). 19 March 1918. p. 3561.
  ^  Following rural English usage, Tolkien used the name "hemlock" for various plants with white flowers in umbels, resembling hemlock (Conium maculatum); the flowers Edith danced among were more probably cow parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris) or wild carrot (Daucus carota). See John Garth,  Tolkien and the Great War  (Harper Collins/Houghton Mifflin 2003, chapter 12), and Peter Gilliver, Jeremy Marshall, &amp; Edmund Weiner,  The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary  (OUP 2006).
  ^  Grotta 2002, p. 58
  ^   "No. 32110".  The London Gazette  (Supplement). 2 November 1920. p. 10711.
  ^  Gilliver, Peter; Marshall, Jeremy; Weiner, Edmund (2006).  The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary . Oxford University Press.
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  ^  See The Name Nodens (1932) in the bibliographical listing. For the etymology, see Nodens#Etymology.
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  ^  Tolkien:  Finn and Hengest . Chiefly, p.4 in the Introduction by Alan Bliss.
  ^  Tolkien:  Finn and Hengest , the discussion of Eotena, passim.
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  ^  Carpenter 1977, Part 7, Chapter 2 "Bournemouth"
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  ^   "Amazon will run a multi-season Lord of the Rings prequel TV series". Ars Technica. 13 November 2017. Archived from the original on 14 November 2017.
  ^  Koblin, John (13 November 2017). "'Lord of the Rings' Series Coming to Amazon". The New York Times. Archived from the original on 17 February 2018.
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^    a       b    Larsen, Kristine (2007). "SAURON, Mount Doom, and Elvish Moths: The Influence of Tolkien on Modern Science".  Tolkien Studies . 4 (1): 223–234. doi:10.1353/tks.2007.0024. S2CID 170563966.
  ^  Kaila, Lauri (1999). "A revision of the Nearctic species of the genus Elachista s.l. III. The bifasciella, praelineata, saccharella and freyerella groups (Lepidoptera, Elachistidae)". Acta Zoologica Fennica. 211: 1–235.
  ^  Gee, Henry (2004).  The Science of Middle-earth  (1st ed.). Cold Spring Harbor, NY: Cold Spring Press. ISBN  978-1-59360-023-5 .
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  ^   "Tolkien Reading Day". The Tolkien Society. Archived from the original on 26 October 2015. Retrieved 14 May 2014.
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  ^   "Sir Peter Blake's new Beatles' Sgt Pepper's album cover". BBC. 11 November 2016. Archived from the original on 3 January 2017.
  ^  Welk, Brian (17 January 2019). "J. R. R. Tolkien Biopic With Nicholas Hoult Gets Summer 2019 Release Date". Archived from the original on 18 January 2019.
  ^  Flood, Alison (23 April 2019). "Tolkien estate disavows forthcoming film starring Nicholas Hoult". The Guardian. Archived from the original on 23 April 2019.
  ^  Garth, John (2006). "World War I". In Drout, Michael D. C. (ed.).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment . Oxon: Routledge. p. 713. ISBN  978-0-415-96942-0 . Archived from the original on 17 May 2007.
  ^  Jenkins, Stephanie. "Inscriptions: J. R. R. Tolkien". Headington.org. Archived from the original on 1 March 2014.
  ^   "Sarehole Mill". Blue Plaques Photograph Gallery. Archived from the original on 24 May 2007.
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^    a       b     ""Saint Tolkien": Why This English Don Is on the Path to Sainthood". Archived from the original on 30 April 2019.
  ^   "Will Tolkien and Chesterton be declared saints?". Archived from the original on 30 April 2019.
 
Sources
   Carpenter, Humphrey (1977).  Tolkien: A Biography . New York: Ballantine Books. ISBN  978-0-04-928037-3 . 
 ———; Tolkien, Christopher, eds. (1981).  The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien . London: George Allen &amp; Unwin. ISBN  978-0-04-826005-5 . 
  Garth, John (2003).  Tolkien and the Great War . Harper-Collins. ISBN  978-0-00-711953-0 . 
 Grotta, Daniel (2002). J. R. R. Tolkien: Architect of Middle Earth: A Biography. Running Press. ISBN  978-0-7624-1337-9 . 
  Lee, Stuart D., ed. (2020) [2014]. A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien. Wiley Blackwell. ISBN  978-1119656029 . 
  Shippey, Tom (2005) [1982].  The Road to Middle-earth  (Third ed.). Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN  978-0-618-25760-7 .  
Further reading
A small selection of books about Tolkien and his works:
   Anderson, Douglas A.; Drout, Michael D. C.; Flieger, Verlyn, eds. (2004).  Tolkien Studies, An Annual Scholarly Review . Vol. I. West Virginia University Press. ISBN  978-0-937058-87-9 . 
  Carpenter, Humphrey (1979).  The Inklings: C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams and Their Friends . Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN  978-0-395-27628-0 . 
  Chance, Jane, ed. (2003). Tolkien the Medievalist. London, New York: Routledge. ISBN  978-0-415-28944-3 . 
 ———, ed. (2004). Tolkien and the Invention of Myth, a Reader. Louisville: University Press of Kentucky. ISBN  978-0-8131-2301-1 . 
 Cilli, Oronzo; Shippey, Tom (2019). Tolkien's Library: An Annotated Checklist. Edinburgh: Luna Press. ISBN  978-1-911143-67-3 . OCLC 1099568978. 
 ———; Smith, Arden R.; Wynne, Patrick H.; Garth, John (2017). J. R. R. Tolkien the Esperantist: Before the Arrival of Bilbo Baggins. Barletta: Cafagna. ISBN  978-88-96906-33-0 . OCLC 1020852373. 
 Costabile, Giovanni Carmine (2018). "Bilbo Baggins and the Forty Thieves The Reworking of Folktale Motifs in The Hobbit (and The Lord of the Rings )". Mythlore. 36 (2 (132)): 89–104. ISSN 0146-9339. OCLC 8513422873. 
  Croft, Janet Brennan (2004). War and the Works of J. R. R. Tolkien. Westport: Praegar Publishers. ISBN  0-313-32592-8 . 
  Curry, Patrick (2004). Defending Middle-earth: Tolkien, Myth and Modernity. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN  978-0-618-47885-9 . 
  Drout, Michael D. C., ed. (2006).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia: Scholarship and Critical Assessment . New York City: Routledge. ISBN  978-0-415-96942-0 . 
  Duriez, Colin (2003). Tolkien and C. S. Lewis: The Gift of Friendship. Mahwah, New Jersey: HiddenSpring. ISBN  978-1-58768-026-7 . 
 ———; Porter, David (2001). The Inklings Handbook: The Lives, Thought and Writings of C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, Charles Williams, Owen Barfield, and Their Friends. London: Azure. ISBN  978-1-902694-13-9 . 
  Flieger, Verlyn (2002).  Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien's World . Kent State University Press. ISBN  978-0-87338-744-6 . 
 ———; Hostetter, Carl F., eds. (2000). Tolkien's Legendarium: Essays on The History of Middle-earth. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press. ISBN  978-0-313-30530-6 . DDC 823.912 LC PR6039. 
  Fonstad, Karen Wynn (1991).  The Atlas of Middle-earth . Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN  978-0-618-12699-6 . 
  Foster, Robert (2001).  The Complete Guide to Middle-earth . Del Rey. ISBN  978-0-345-44976-4 . 
 Fredrick, Candice; McBride, Sam (2001). Woman among the Inklings: Gender, C.S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, and Charles Williams. Greenwood Press. ISBN  978-0-313-31245-8 . 
  Gilliver, Peter; Marshall, Jeremy; Weiner, Edmund (2006).  The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary . Oxford University Press. ISBN  978-0-19-861069-4 . 
 Glyer, Diana Pavlac (2007). The Company They Keep: C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien as Writers in Community. Kent, Ohio: Kent State University Press. ISBN  978-0-87338-890-0 . 
 Grant, Patrick (1979). "Belief in Fantasy: J. R. R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings". Six Modern Authors and Problems of Belief. MacMillan. ISBN  978-0333263402 . 
 Haber, Karen (2001).  Meditations on Middle-earth: New Writing on the Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien . St. Martin's Press. ISBN  978-0-312-27536-5 . 
 Harrington, Patrick, ed. (2003). Tolkien and Politics. London, England: Third Way Publications. ISBN  978-0-9544788-2-7 . 
  Lee, Stuart D.; Solopova, Elizabeth (2005). The Keys of Middle-earth: Discovering Medieval Literature through the Fiction of J. R. R. Tolkien. Palgrave Macmillan. ISBN  978-1-4039-4671-3 . 
  Pearce, Joseph (1998). Tolkien: Man and Myth. London: HarperCollins. ISBN  978-0-00-274018-0 . 
 Perry, Michael (2006). Untangling Tolkien: A Chronology and Commentary for The Lord of the Rings. Seattle: Inkling Books. ISBN  978-1-58742-019-1 . 
 Ready, William (1968). Understanding Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings. New York: Paperback Library. 
 Rorabeck, Robert (2008). Tolkien's Heroic Quest. Crescent Moon. ISBN  978-1-86171-239-4 . 
  Scull, Christina; Hammond, Wayne G. (2017).  The J.R.R. Tolkien Companion and Guide  (Revised and expanded ed.). London: HarperCollins. ISBN  978-0-00-821454-8 . 
  Shippey, Tom (2000).  J. R. R. Tolkien: Author of the Century . Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN  978-0-618-12764-1 . 
 Strachey, Barbara (1981).  Journeys of Frodo: an Atlas of The Lord of the Rings . London, Boston: Allen &amp; Unwin. ISBN  978-0-04-912016-7 . 
 Tolkien, John &amp; Priscilla (1992). The Tolkien Family Album. London: HarperCollins. ISBN  978-0-261-10239-2 . 
 Tyler, J. E. A. (1976).  The Tolkien Companion . New York: Gramercy. ISBN  978-0-517-14648-4 . 
 White, Michael (2003). Tolkien: A Biography. New American Library. ISBN  978-0-451-21242-9 . 
 Zaleski, Philip; Zaleski, Carol (2016). The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams. Farrar, Straus and Giroux. ISBN  978-0-374-53625-1 .  
External links
    This audio file was created from a revision of this article dated 26 January 2022, and does not reflect subsequent edits. 
  HarperCollins Tolkien Website 
 Additional Resources for J. R. R. Tolkien compiled by the Marion E. Wade Center 
 "Tolkien, John Ronald Reuel".  Oxford Dictionary of National Biography  (online ed.). Oxford University Press. doi:10.1093/ref:odnb/31766. (Subscription or UK public library membership required.)
 J. R. R. Tolkien at IMDb 
 J. R. R. Tolkien at the Internet Speculative Fiction Database 
 Archival material at Leeds University Library 
 Audio recording of Tolkien from 1929 on a language learning gramophone disc
 BBC film (1968) featuring Tolkien 
 Biography at the Tolkien Society 
 J. R. R. Tolkien at  The Encyclopedia of Fantasy  
 J. R. R. Tolkien at the Internet Book List
 J. R. R. Tolkien at  The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction  
  Journal of Inklings Studies —Peer-reviewed journal on Tolkien's literary circle, based at Oxford
 The Tolkien Estate Website 
 Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth exhibition at the Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
 Works by J. R. R. Tolkien at LibriVox (public domain audiobooks) 
 Works by J. R. R. Tolkien at Project Gutenberg 
 Works by or about J. R. R. Tolkien at Internet Archive
J. R. R. Tolkien - Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings
The Lord of the Rings - Wikipedia
2001-11-08
Authority control
<div><div>
<table><caption><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> </caption><tbody><tr><td><a href="/wiki/File:First_Single_Volume_Edition_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings.gif"></a><p>The first single-volume edition (1968)</p></td></tr><tr><th>Author</th><td><a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien">J. R. R. Tolkien</a></td></tr><tr><th>Country</th><td>United Kingdom</td></tr><tr><th>Language</th><td>English</td></tr><tr><th>Genre</th><td><div>
<ul><li><a href="/wiki/High_fantasy">High fantasy</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Adventure_novel">Adventure</a></li></ul>
</div></td></tr><tr><th>Set in</th><td><a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a></td></tr><tr><th>Publisher</th><td><a href="/wiki/Allen_%26_Unwin">Allen &amp; Unwin</a></td></tr><tr><th><p>Publication date</p></th><td><div>
<ul><li>29 July 1954 (<i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring">The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i>)</li>
<li>11 November 1954 (<i><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers">The Two Towers</a></i>)</li>
<li>20 October 1955 (<i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King">The Return of the King</a></i>)</li></ul>
</div></td></tr><tr><th>Media type</th><td>Print (hardback &amp; paperback)</td></tr><tr><th><a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)"><abbr>OCLC</abbr></a></th><td><a href="https://www.worldcat.org/oclc/1487587">1487587</a></td></tr><tr><th>Preceded by</th><td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a> </i></td></tr><tr><th>Followed by</th><td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tom_Bombadil">The Adventures of Tom Bombadil</a> </i></td></tr></tbody></table>
<p><i><b>The Lord of the Rings</b></i> is an <a href="/wiki/Epic_(genre)">epic</a><sup><a href="#cite_note-1">[1]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/High-fantasy">high-fantasy</a> novel<sup><a href="#cite_note-3">[a]</a></sup> by English author and scholar <a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien">J. R. R. Tolkien</a>. Set in <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a>, the story began as a sequel to Tolkien's 1937 children's book <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i>, but eventually developed into a much larger work. Written in stages between 1937 and 1949, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> is one of the <a href="/wiki/List_of_best-selling_books">best-selling books ever written</a>, with over 150 million copies sold.<sup><a href="#cite_note-thestar-4">[2]</a></sup>
</p><p>The title refers to the story's main <a href="/wiki/Antagonist">antagonist</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-6">[b]</a></sup> the <a href="/wiki/Dark_Lord">Dark Lord</a> <a href="/wiki/Sauron">Sauron</a>, who, in an earlier age, created the <a href="/wiki/One_Ring">One Ring</a> to rule the other <a href="/wiki/Rings_of_Power">Rings of Power</a> given to <a href="/wiki/Men_in_Middle-earth">Men</a>, <a href="/wiki/Dwarves_in_Middle-earth">Dwarves</a>, and <a href="/wiki/Elves_in_Middle-earth">Elves</a>, in his campaign to conquer all of Middle-earth. From homely beginnings in <a href="/wiki/The_Shire">the Shire</a>, a <a href="/wiki/Hobbit">hobbit</a> land reminiscent of the English countryside, the story ranges across Middle-earth, following the quest to destroy the One Ring mainly through the eyes of the hobbits <a href="/wiki/Frodo_Baggins">Frodo</a>, <a href="/wiki/Samwise_Gamgee">Sam</a>, <a href="/wiki/Meriadoc_Brandybuck">Merry</a> and <a href="/wiki/Peregrin_Took">Pippin</a>.
</p><p>Although often called a trilogy, the work was intended by Tolkien to be one volume of a two-volume set along with <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-tale-7">[3]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-8">[T 3]</a></sup> For economic reasons, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was published over the course of a year from 29 July 1954 to 20 October 1955 in three volumes<sup><a href="#cite_note-tale-7">[3]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-9">[4]</a></sup> titled <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring">The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i>, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers">The Two Towers</a></i>, and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King">The Return of the King</a></i>. The work is divided internally into six books, two per volume, with several appendices of background material. Some later editions print the entire work in a single volume, following the author's original intent.
</p><p>Tolkien's work, after an initially mixed <a href="/wiki/Reception_of_J._R._R._Tolkien">reception</a> by the literary establishment, has been the subject of <a href="/wiki/Themes_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">extensive analysis of its themes</a> and origins. <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_influences">Influences</a> on this earlier work, and on the story of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, include <a href="/wiki/Philology">philology</a>, mythology, <a href="/wiki/Christianity_in_Middle-earth">Christianity</a>, earlier fantasy works, and <a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien#First_World_War">his own experiences in the First World War</a>.
</p><p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> is considered one of the greatest fantasy books ever written and it has helped to create and shape the modern fantasy genre. Since release, it has since been reprinted many times and <a href="/wiki/Translations_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">translated into at least 38 languages</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-languages-10">[c]</a></sup> Its enduring popularity has led to numerous references in popular culture, the founding of many societies by <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_fandom">fans of Tolkien's works</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-11">[5]</a></sup> and the publication of many books about Tolkien and his works. It has <a href="/wiki/Works_inspired_by_J._R._R._Tolkien">inspired many derivative works</a>, including paintings, music, <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_film">films</a>, television, <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_video_games">video games</a>, and board games. 
</p><p>Award-winning <a href="/wiki/Adaptations_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">adaptations of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i></a> have been made for <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1981_radio_series)">radio</a>, <a href="/wiki/Lord_of_the_Rings_(musical)">theatre</a>, and <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(film_series)">film</a>. It has been named Britain's best-loved novel of all time in the BBC's 2003 poll <a href="/wiki/The_Big_Read">The Big Read</a>.
</p>
<h2>Plot[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=1">edit</a>]</h2>
<h3><i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i>[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=2">edit</a>]</h3>
<h3> Prologue[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-1">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>The prologue explains that the work is "largely concerned with hobbits", telling of their origins in a migration from the east, their habits such as smoking "<a href="/wiki/Pipe-weed">pipe-weed</a>", and how their homeland <a href="/wiki/The_Shire">the Shire</a> is organised. It explains how the narrative follows on from <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i>, in which the <a href="/wiki/Hobbit">hobbit</a> <a href="/wiki/Bilbo_Baggins">Bilbo Baggins</a> finds the <a href="/wiki/One_Ring">One Ring</a>, which had been in the possession of <a href="/wiki/Gollum">Gollum</a>.
</p>
<h3> Book I: The Ring Sets Out[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-2">edit</a>]</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:One_Ring_Blender_Render.png"></a></p></div>
<p>Bilbo celebrates his eleventy-first (111th) birthday and leaves the Shire suddenly, passing the Ring to <a href="/wiki/Frodo_Baggins">Frodo Baggins</a>, his cousin<sup><a href="#cite_note-cousins-12">[d]</a></sup> and heir. Neither hobbit is aware of the Ring's origin, but the <a href="/wiki/Wizard_(Middle-earth)">wizard</a> <a href="/wiki/Gandalf">Gandalf</a> suspects it is a <a href="/wiki/Rings_of_Power">Ring of Power</a>. Seventeen years later, <a href="/wiki/The_Shadow_of_the_Past">Gandalf tells Frodo that he has confirmed that the Ring is the one lost by the Dark Lord</a> <a href="/wiki/Sauron">Sauron</a> long ago and counsels him to take it away from the Shire. Gandalf leaves, promising to return by Frodo's birthday and accompany him on his journey, but fails to do so.
</p><p>Frodo sets out on foot, offering a cover story of moving to Crickhollow, accompanied by his gardener <a href="/wiki/Samwise_Gamgee">Sam Gamgee</a> and his cousin <a href="/wiki/Pippin_Took">Pippin Took</a>. They are pursued by mysterious <a href="/wiki/Nazg%C3%BBl">Black Riders</a>, but meet a passing group of <a href="/wiki/Elves_(Middle-Earth)">Elves</a> led by <a href="/wiki/Finrod_Felagund#Earlier_versions">Gildor Inglorion</a>, whose chants to <a href="/wiki/Elbereth">Elbereth</a> ward off the Riders. The hobbits spend the night with them, then take an evasive short cut the next day, and arrive at the farm of Farmer Maggot, who takes them to Bucklebury Ferry, where they meet their friend <a href="/wiki/Merry_Brandybuck">Merry Brandybuck</a>. When they reach the house at Crickhollow, Merry and Pippin reveal they know about the Ring and insist on travelling with Frodo and Sam.
</p><p>They decide to try to shake off the Black Riders by cutting through the <a href="/wiki/Old_Forest">Old Forest</a>. Merry and Pippin are trapped by <a href="/wiki/Old_Man_Willow">Old Man Willow</a>, an ancient tree who controls much of the forest, but are rescued by <a href="/wiki/Tom_Bombadil">Tom Bombadil</a>. Leaving the refuge of Tom's house, they get lost in a fog and are caught by a <a href="/wiki/Barrow-wight">barrow-wight</a> in a <a href="/wiki/Barrow_(archaeology)">barrow</a> on the downs, but Frodo, awakening from the barrow-wight's spell, calls Tom Bombadil, who frees them, and equips them with ancient swords from the barrow-wight's hoard.
</p><p>The hobbits reach the village of <a href="/wiki/Bree_(Middle-earth)">Bree</a>, where they encounter a <a href="/wiki/Dunedain#Rangers_of_the_North">Ranger</a> named <a href="/wiki/Aragorn">Strider</a>. The innkeeper gives Frodo a letter from Gandalf written three months before which identifies Strider as a friend. Knowing the riders will attempt to seize the party, Strider cunningly avoids their attack and leads the hobbits through the wilderness toward the <a href="/wiki/Elf_(Middle-earth)">Elven</a> sanctuary of <a href="/wiki/Rivendell">Rivendell</a>. On the way to Rivendell, the group stops at the hill <a href="/wiki/Weathertop">Weathertop</a>. Strider identifies the riders as the <a href="/wiki/Nazg%C3%BBl">Nazgûl</a>, men from ancient times enslaved by lesser Rings of Power to serve Sauron. While at Weathertop, they are again attacked by five of the nine Black Riders. During the struggle, the Lord of the Nazgûl wounds Frodo with a cursed blade. After fighting off the Nazgûl, Strider treats Frodo with the herb athelas, and is joined by the elf <a href="/wiki/Glorfindel">Glorfindel</a> who has been searching for the party. Glorfindel rides with Frodo, now deathly ill, toward Rivendell. The Nazgûl nearly capture Frodo at the Ford of Bruinen, but upon attempting to cross the ford, <a href="/wiki/Magic_in_Middle-earth">flood waters summoned</a> by <a href="/wiki/Elrond">Elrond</a> and Gandalf rise up and overwhelm the Nazgûl.
</p>
<h3> Book II: The Ring Goes South[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-3">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Frodo recovers in Rivendell under Elrond's care. <a href="/wiki/The_Council_of_Elrond">The Council of Elrond</a> discusses the history of Sauron and the Ring. Strider is revealed to be Aragorn, the heir of <a href="/wiki/Isildur">Isildur</a>. Isildur had cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand in the battle ending the Second Age, but refused to destroy it, claiming it for himself. The Ring had been lost when Isildur was killed, finally ending up in Bilbo's possession after his meeting with <a href="/wiki/Gollum">Gollum</a> described in <i>The Hobbit</i>. Gandalf reports that the chief wizard, <a href="/wiki/Saruman">Saruman</a>, has betrayed them and is now working to become a power in his own right. Gandalf was captured by Saruman, but escaped, explaining why he had failed to return to meet Frodo as he had promised.
</p><p>
The Council decides that the Ring must be destroyed, but that can only be done by sending it to the fire of <a href="/wiki/Mount_Doom">Mount Doom</a> in <a href="/wiki/Mordor">Mordor</a> where it was forged. Frodo takes this task upon himself. Elrond, with the advice of Gandalf, chooses companions for him. The Fellowship of the Ring consists of nine walkers who set out on the quest to destroy the <a href="/wiki/One_Ring">One Ring</a>, in opposition to the nine <a href="/wiki/Nazg%C3%BBl">Black Riders</a>: the <a href="/wiki/Hobbit">Hobbit</a> and ringbearer <a href="/wiki/Frodo_Baggins">Frodo Baggins</a>; his gardener <a href="/wiki/Sam_Gamgee">Sam Gamgee</a>; the two young Hobbits <a href="/wiki/Merry_Brandybuck">Merry Brandybuck</a> and <a href="/wiki/Pippin_Took">Pippin Took</a>; the <a href="/wiki/Wizard_(Middle-Earth)">Wizard</a> <a href="/wiki/Gandalf">Gandalf</a>; the <a href="/wiki/Elf_(Middle-earth)">elf</a> <a href="/wiki/Legolas">Legolas</a>; the <a href="/wiki/Dwarf_(Middle-earth)">dwarf</a> <a href="/wiki/Gimli_(Middle-earth)">Gimli</a>; and the men <a href="/wiki/Aragorn">Aragorn</a> the <a href="/wiki/Ranger_of_the_North">ranger</a>, and <a href="/wiki/Boromir">Boromir</a>, son of the <a href="/wiki/Stewards_of_Gondor">Steward</a> of <a href="/wiki/Gondor">Gondor</a>. The Fellowship thus represents the Free Peoples of the West – Elves, Dwarves, Men, and Hobbits, assisted by a Wizard.
</p><p>After a failed attempt to cross the <a href="/wiki/Misty_Mountains">Misty Mountains</a> over the Redhorn Pass, the Fellowship take the perilous path through the <a href="/wiki/Moria_(Middle-earth)">Mines of Moria</a>. They learn that <a href="/wiki/Balin_(Middle-earth)">Balin</a>, one of the Dwarves who accompanied Bilbo in <i>The Hobbit</i>, and his colony of Dwarves were killed by <a href="/wiki/Orc_(Middle-earth)">Orcs</a>. After surviving an attack, they are pursued by Orcs and a <a href="/wiki/Balrog">Balrog</a>, an ancient fire demon from a prior Age. Gandalf confronts the Balrog, and both of them fall into the abyss of Moria. The others escape and find refuge in the <a href="/wiki/Time_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">timeless Elven forest</a> of <a href="/wiki/Lothl%C3%B3rien">Lothlórien</a>, where they are counselled by the Lady <a href="/wiki/Galadriel">Galadriel</a>. Before they leave, Galadriel tests their loyalty, and gives them individual, magical gifts to help them on their quest. She allows Frodo and Sam to look into her fountain, the Mirror of Galadriel, to see visions of the past, the present, and perhaps the future, and she refuses to take the Ring Frodo offers her, knowing that it would master her.
</p><p>Galadriel's husband Celeborn gives the Fellowship boats, elven cloaks, and waybread (Lembas), and they travel down the <a href="/wiki/River_Anduin">River Anduin</a> to the hill of Amon Hen. There, Boromir tries to take the Ring from Frodo, but immediately regrets it after Frodo puts on the Ring and disappears. Frodo chooses to go alone to Mordor, but Sam, guessing what he intends, intercepts him as he tries to take a boat across the river, and goes with him.
</p>
<h3><i>The Two Towers</i>[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=3">edit</a>]</h3>
<h3> Book III: The Treason of Isengard[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Two_Towers&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-1">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>A party of large Orcs, Uruk-hai, sent by <a href="/wiki/Saruman">Saruman</a>, and other Orcs sent by <a href="/wiki/Sauron">Sauron</a> and led by Grishnákh, attack the Fellowship. Boromir tries to protect Merry and Pippin from the Orcs, but they kill him and capture the two hobbits. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas decide to pursue the Orcs taking Merry and Pippin to Saruman. In the kingdom of <a href="/wiki/Rohan_(Middle-earth)">Rohan</a>, the Orcs are killed by <a href="/wiki/Rohan_(Middle-earth)#People">Riders of Rohan</a>, led by <a href="/wiki/%C3%89omer">Éomer</a>. Merry and Pippin escape into <a href="/wiki/Fangorn">Fangorn</a> Forest, where they are befriended by <a href="/wiki/Treebeard">Treebeard</a>, the oldest of the tree-like <a href="/wiki/Ent">Ents</a>. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas track the hobbits to Fangorn. There they unexpectedly meet Gandalf.
</p><p>Gandalf explains that he killed the Balrog. He was also killed in the fight, but was sent back to Middle-earth to complete his mission. He is clothed in white and is now Gandalf the White, for he has taken Saruman's place as the chief of the wizards. Gandalf assures his friends that Merry and Pippin are safe. Together they ride to <a href="/wiki/Edoras">Edoras</a>, capital of Rohan. Gandalf frees <a href="/wiki/Th%C3%A9oden">Théoden</a>, King of Rohan, from the influence of Saruman's spy <a href="/wiki/Gr%C3%ADma_Wormtongue">Gríma Wormtongue</a>. Théoden musters his fighting strength and rides with his men to the ancient fortress of <a href="/wiki/Helm%27s_Deep">Helm's Deep</a>, while Gandalf departs to seek help from Treebeard.
</p><p>Meanwhile, the Ents, roused by Merry and Pippin from their peaceful ways, attack and destroy <a href="/wiki/Isengard">Isengard</a>, Saruman's stronghold, and flood it, trapping the wizard in the tower of <a href="/wiki/Orthanc">Orthanc</a>. Gandalf convinces Treebeard to send an army of <a href="/wiki/Huorn">Huorns</a> to Théoden's aid. He brings an army of Rohirrim to Helm's Deep, and they defeat the Orcs, who flee into the forest of Huorns, never to be seen again. Gandalf, Théoden, Legolas, and Gimli ride to Isengard, and are surprised to find Merry and Pippin relaxing amidst the ruins. Gandalf offers Saruman a chance to turn away from evil. When Saruman refuses to listen, Gandalf strips him of his rank and most of his powers. After Saruman leaves, Wormtongue throws down a hard round object to try to kill Gandalf. Pippin picks it up; Gandalf swiftly takes it, but Pippin steals it in the night. It is revealed to be a <i><a href="/wiki/Palant%C3%ADr">palantír</a></i>, a seeing-stone that Saruman used to speak with Sauron, and that Sauron used to ensnare him. Sauron sees Pippin, but misunderstands the circumstances. Gandalf immediately rides for <a href="/wiki/Minas_Tirith">Minas Tirith</a>, chief city of Gondor, taking Pippin with him.
</p>
<h3> Book IV: The Ring Goes East[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Two_Towers&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-2">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Frodo and Sam, heading for Mordor, struggle through the barren hills and cliffs of the <a href="/wiki/Emyn_Muil">Emyn Muil</a>. They become aware they are being watched and tracked; on a moonlit night they capture Gollum, who has followed them from Moria. Frodo makes Gollum swear to serve him, as Ringbearer, and asks him to guide them to Mordor. Gollum leads them across the <a href="/wiki/Dead_Marshes">Dead Marshes</a>. Sam overhears Gollum debating with his alter ego, Sméagol, whether to break his promise and steal the Ring.
</p><p>They find that the <a href="/wiki/Black_Gate_(Middle-earth)">Black Gate</a> of Mordor is too well guarded, so instead they travel south through the land of <a href="/wiki/Ithilien">Ithilien</a> to a secret pass that Gollum knows. On the way, they are captured by rangers led by <a href="/wiki/Faramir">Faramir</a>, Boromir's brother, and brought to the secret fastness of <a href="/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn">Henneth Annûn</a>. Faramir resists the temptation to seize the Ring and, disobeying standing orders to arrest strangers found in Ithilien, releases them.
</p><p>Gollum – who is torn between his loyalty to Frodo and his desire for the Ring – guides the hobbits to the pass, but leads them into the lair of the great spider <a href="/wiki/Shelob">Shelob</a> in the tunnels of <a href="/wiki/Cirith_Ungol">Cirith Ungol</a>. Frodo holds up the gift given to him in Lothlórien: the Phial of Galadriel, which holds the <a href="/wiki/Christianity_in_Middle-earth#Light">light</a> of <a href="/wiki/E%C3%A4rendil">Eärendil</a>'s star. The light drives Shelob back. Frodo cuts through a giant web using his sword <a href="/wiki/Sting_(sword)">Sting</a>. Shelob attacks again, and Frodo falls to her venom. Sam picks up Sting and the Phial. He seriously wounds and drives off the monster. Believing Frodo to be dead, Sam takes the Ring to continue the quest alone. Orcs find Frodo; Sam overhears them and learns that Frodo is still alive, but is separated from him.
</p>
<h3><i>The Return of the King</i>[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=4">edit</a>]</h3>
<h3> Book V: The War of the Ring[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Return_of_the_King&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-1">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Sauron sends a great army against Gondor. Gandalf arrives at Minas Tirith to warn Denethor of the attack, while Théoden musters the Rohirrim to ride to Gondor's aid. Minas Tirith is besieged; the Lord of the Nazgûl uses a <a href="/wiki/Battering_ram">battering ram</a> and the power of his Ring to destroy the city's gates. Denethor, deceived by Sauron, falls into despair. He burns himself alive on a pyre; Pippin and Gandalf rescue his son Faramir from the same fate.
</p><p><a href="/wiki/Aragorn">Aragorn</a>, accompanied by Legolas, Gimli, and the Rangers of the North, takes the <a href="/wiki/Paths_of_the_Dead">Paths of the Dead</a> to recruit the Dead Men of Dunharrow, oathbreakers who are bound by an ancient curse which denies them rest until they fulfil their oath to fight for the King of Gondor. Aragorn unleashes the Army of the Dead on the <a href="/wiki/Corsairs_of_Umbar">Corsairs of Umbar</a> invading southern Gondor. With that threat eliminated, Aragorn uses the Corsairs' ships to transport the men of southern Gondor up the <a href="/wiki/Anduin">Anduin</a>, reaching Minas Tirith just in time to turn the tide of battle. Théoden's niece <a href="/wiki/%C3%89owyn">Éowyn</a>, who joined the army in disguise, kills the Lord of the Nazgûl with help from Merry; both are wounded. Together, Gondor and Rohan defeat Sauron's army in the <a href="/wiki/Battle_of_the_Pelennor_Fields">Battle of the Pelennor Fields</a>, though at great cost; Théoden is among the dead.
</p><p>Aragorn enters Minas Tirith and heals Faramir, Éowyn, and Merry. He leads an army of men from Gondor and Rohan, marching through Ithilien to the Black Gate to distract Sauron from his true danger. At the <a href="/wiki/Battle_of_the_Morannon">Battle of the Morannon</a>, his army is vastly outnumbered.
</p>
<h3> Book VI: The End of the Third Age[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Return_of_the_King&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-2">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Meanwhile, Sam rescues Frodo from the tower of Cirith Ungol. They set out across Mordor. When they reach the edge of the <a href="/wiki/Cracks_of_Doom">Cracks of Doom</a>, Frodo cannot resist the Ring any longer. He claims it for himself and puts it on. Gollum suddenly reappears. He struggles with Frodo and bites off Frodo's finger with the Ring still on it. Celebrating wildly, Gollum loses his footing and falls into the Fire, taking the Ring with him. When the Ring is destroyed, Sauron loses his power forever. All he created collapses, the Nazgûl perish, and his armies are thrown into such disarray that Aragorn's forces emerge victorious.
</p><p>Aragorn is crowned King of Arnor and Gondor, and weds <a href="/wiki/Arwen">Arwen</a>, daughter of Elrond. Théoden is buried and Éomer is crowned King of Rohan. His sister Éowyn is engaged to marry Faramir, now Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien. Galadriel, Celeborn, and Gandalf meet and say farewell to Treebeard, and to Aragorn.
</p><p>The four hobbits make their way back to the Shire, only to find that it has been taken over by men directed by "Sharkey" (whom they later discover to be Saruman). The hobbits, led by Merry, raise a rebellion and <a href="/wiki/The_Scouring_of_the_Shire">scour the Shire</a> of Sharkey's evil. Gríma Wormtongue turns on Saruman and kills him in front of <a href="/wiki/Bag_End">Bag End</a>, Frodo's home. He is killed in turn by hobbit archers. Merry and Pippin are celebrated as heroes. Sam marries Rosie Cotton and uses his gifts from Galadriel to help heal the Shire. But Frodo is still wounded in body and spirit, having borne the Ring for so long. A few years later, in the company of Bilbo and Gandalf, Frodo sails from the <a href="/wiki/Grey_Havens">Grey Havens</a> west over the Sea to the <a href="/wiki/Undying_Lands">Undying Lands</a> to find peace.
</p>
<h3> Appendices[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Return_of_the_King&amp;action=edit&amp;section=T-3">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>The appendices outline more details of the history, cultures, <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_Middle-earth_family_trees">genealogies</a>, and <a href="/wiki/Languages_constructed_by_J._R._R._Tolkien">languages</a> that Tolkien imagined for the peoples of Middle-earth. They provide background details for the narrative, with much detail for Tolkien fans who want to know more about the stories.
</p>
<dl><dt>Appendix A: "Annals of the Kings and Rulers"</dt>
<dd>Provides extensive background to the larger world of Middle-earth, with brief overviews of the events of the first two Ages of the world, and then more detailed histories of the nations of Men in Gondor and Rohan, as well as a history of the royal Dwarvish line of Durin during the Third Age.The embedded "<a href="/wiki/The_Tale_of_Aragorn_and_Arwen">Tale of Aragorn and Arwen</a>" tells how it happened that an immortal elf came to marry a man, as told in the main story, which Arwen's ancestor <a href="/wiki/L%C3%BAthien">Lúthien</a> had done in the <a href="/wiki/First_Age">First Age</a>, giving up her immortality.</dd>
<dt>Appendix B: "The Tale of Years" (Chronology of the Westlands)</dt>
<dd>It is a timeline of events throughout the series, and ancient events affecting the narrative, and in lesser detail, it gives the stories' context in the fictional chronology of the larger mythology.It also tells that Sam gives his daughter Elanor the fictional <i><a href="/wiki/Red_Book_of_Westmarch">Red Book of Westmarch</a></i> – which contains the autobiographical stories of Bilbo's adventures at the opening of the war, and Frodo's role in the full-on War of the Ring, and serves as Tolkien's source for <i>The Hobbit</i> and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> (with Tolkien representing himself as a translator, rather than an <a href="/wiki/Epic_novel">epic novelist</a>). It says that there was "a tradition" that after handing over the book, Sam crossed west over the sea himself, the last of the ring-bearers; and that some years later, after the deaths of Aragorn and Arwen, Legolas and Gimli also sailed together "over Sea".</dd>
<dt>Appendix C: "Family Trees" (Hobbits)</dt>
<dd>Gives <a href="/wiki/Hobbit">hobbit</a> genealogies – not only for Bilbo and Frodo's Baggins family, but also their relations the Tooks and Brandybucks, which connect them to Pippin and Merry.</dd>
<dt>Appendix D: "Calendars"</dt>
<dd>Describes some of the calendars used by the characters in the story, and explains that the Roman month names in the text are "translations" of the names in the hobbits' calendar. (Tolkien was a linguist, and provided Germanic-sounding names for the hobbit calendar by extrapolating names of <a href="/wiki/Early_Germanic_calendars">German and Old English months</a> forward to what he thought they might have become if all were still used in modern English, as <i>Yule</i> and <i>Easter</i> are.)</dd>
<dt>Appendix E: "Writing and Spelling"</dt>
<dd>Describes dwarves’ runes and the elvish runes use by the other peoples of Middle-earth; the names of the runes and letters incidentally give a bit of information about dwarvish and elvish languages.</dd>
<dt>Appendix F: "Languages and Peoples of the Third Age" and "On Translation"</dt>
<dd>Presented as two sections. In addition to outlines of the various languages in current use during the narrative, and mentioned or seen in the story, it discusses hobbits' names at length. It sorts out names which Tolkien affected to have translated into English, and names which said he had left in original form (since they had no meaning in hobbits' everyday language).</dd></dl>
<h3>Frame story[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=5">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Tolkien presents <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> within a fictional <a href="/wiki/Frame_story">frame story</a> where he is not the original author, but merely the translator of part of an ancient document, the <i><a href="/wiki/Red_Book_of_Westmarch">Red Book of Westmarch</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Hooker-13">[6]</a></sup> That book is modelled on the real <i><a href="/wiki/Red_Book_of_Hergest">Red Book of Hergest</a></i>, which similarly presents an older mythology. Various details of the frame story appear in the Prologue, its "Note on <a href="/wiki/The_Shire">Shire</a> Records", and in the Appendices, notably Appendix F. In this frame story, the <i>Red Book</i> is the purported source of Tolkien's other works relating to <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a>: <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i>, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i>, and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tom_Bombadil">The Adventures of Tom Bombadil</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Bowman_2006-14">[7]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Concept and creation[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=6">edit</a>]</h2>
<h3>Background[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=7">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Although a major work in itself, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was only the last movement of a much older set of narratives Tolkien had worked on since 1917 encompassing <i>The Silmarillion</i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Doughan_2006-15">[8]</a></sup> in a process he described as <i><a href="/wiki/Mythopoeia">mythopoeia</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-17">[e]</a></sup>
</p><p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> started as a sequel to Tolkien's work <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a>,</i> published in 1937.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup> The popularity of <i>The Hobbit</i> had led George Allen &amp; Unwin, the publishers, to request a sequel. Tolkien warned them that he wrote quite slowly, and responded with several stories he had already developed. Having rejected his contemporary drafts for <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i>, putting <i><a href="/wiki/Roverandom">Roverandom</a></i> on hold, and accepting <i><a href="/wiki/Farmer_Giles_of_Ham">Farmer Giles of Ham</a></i>, Allen &amp; Unwin continued to ask for more stories about <a href="/wiki/Hobbit">hobbits</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977195-19">[11]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Writing[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=8">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Persuaded by his publishers, he started "a new Hobbit" in December 1937.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup> After several false starts, the story of the One Ring emerged. The idea for the first chapter ("A Long-Expected Party") arrived fully formed, although the reasons behind Bilbo's disappearance, the significance of the Ring, and the title <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> did not come until the spring of 1938.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup> Originally, he planned to write a story in which Bilbo had used up all his treasure and was looking for another adventure to gain more; however, he remembered the Ring and its powers and thought that would be a better focus for the new work.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup> As the story progressed, he brought in elements from <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i> mythology.<sup><a href="#cite_note-20">[12]</a></sup>
</p><p>Writing was slow, because Tolkien had a full-time academic position, marked exams to bring in a little extra income, and wrote many drafts.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-21">[T 4]</a></sup> Tolkien abandoned <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> during most of 1943 and only restarted it in April 1944,<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup> as a serial for his son <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher Tolkien</a>, who was sent chapters as they were written while he was serving in South Africa with the <a href="/wiki/Royal_Air_Force">Royal Air Force</a>. Tolkien made another major effort in 1946, and showed the manuscript to his publishers in 1947.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup> The story was effectively finished the next year, but Tolkien did not complete the revision of earlier parts of the work until 1949.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup> The original manuscripts, which total 9,250 pages, now reside in the J. R. R. Tolkien Collection at <a href="/wiki/Marquette_University">Marquette University</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-22">[13]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Poetry[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=9">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Unusually for 20th century novels, the prose narrative is supplemented throughout by <a href="/wiki/Poetry_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">over 60 pieces of poetry</a>. These include verse and songs of many genres: for wandering, <a href="/wiki/Marching_song">marching to war</a>, <a href="/wiki/Drinking_song">drinking</a>, and having a bath; narrating ancient myths, <a href="/wiki/Riddle">riddles</a>, <a href="/wiki/Prophecy">prophecies</a>, and magical incantations; and of praise and lament (<a href="/wiki/Elegy">elegy</a>).<sup><a href="#cite_note-Kullmann_2013-23">[14]</a></sup> Some, such as riddles, charms, elegies, and narrating heroic actions are found in <a href="/wiki/Old_English">Old English</a> <a href="/wiki/Old_English_literature#Poetry">poetry</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Kullmann_2013-23">[14]</a></sup> Scholars have stated that the poetry is essential for the fiction to work aesthetically and thematically, as it adds information not given in the prose, and it brings out characters and their backgrounds.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Higgins_2014-24">[15]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Straubhaar_2005-25">[16]</a></sup> The poetry has been judged to be of high technical skill, reflected in Tolkien's prose; for instance, he wrote much of <a href="/wiki/Tom_Bombadil">Tom Bombadil</a>'s speech in metre.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Zimmer_1993-26">[17]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Illustrations[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=10">edit</a>]</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:One_Ring_inscription.svg"></a></p></div>
<p>Tolkien worked on the text using <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_maps">his maps of Middle-earth</a> as a guide, to ensure the elements of the story fitted together in time and space.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letters_Languages-27">[T 5]</a></sup> He prepared a variety of types of illustration – maps, calligraphy, drawings, cover designs, even a facsimile painting of the <a href="/wiki/Book_of_Mazarbul">Book of Mazarbul</a> – but only the maps, the inscription on the Ring, and a drawing of the <a href="/wiki/Doors_of_Durin">Doors of Durin</a> were included in the first edition.<sup><a href="#cite_note-28">[18]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Letter_#141-29">[T 6]</a></sup>
</p><p>The <a href="/wiki/Hardback">hardback</a> editions sometimes had cover illustrations by Tolkien,<sup><a href="#cite_note-30">[f]</a></sup> sometimes by other artists. According to <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>, <a href="/wiki/Barbara_Remington">Barbara Remington</a>'s cover designs for <a href="/wiki/Ballantine_Books">Ballantine</a>'s paperback editions "achieved mass-cult status in the 1960s, particularly on college campuses" across America.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Carmel_2020-31">[19]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Influences[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=11">edit</a>]</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Beowulf_eotenas_ylfe_orcneas.jpg"></a></p><div><p><i><a href="/wiki/Beowulf">Beowulf</a></i>'s <i>eotenas [ond] ylfe [ond] orcneas</i>, "ogres [and] elves [and] devil-corpses" helped to inspire Tolkien to create the <a href="/wiki/Orc">Orcs</a> and <a href="/wiki/Elf_(Middle-earth)">Elves</a> of <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Shippey_2005_Beowulf-32">[20]</a></sup></p></div></div>
<p>Tolkien drew on <a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien%27s_influences">a wide array of influences</a> including language,<sup><a href="#cite_note-33">[T 7]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Christianity">Christianity</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-34">[T 8]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Mythology">mythology</a> and <a href="/wiki/Germanic_heroic_legend">Germanic heroic legend</a> including the Norse <i><a href="/wiki/V%C3%B6lsunga_saga">Völsunga saga</a></i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Lee_Solopova_2005-35">[21]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Archaeology">archaeology</a>, especially at the Temple of <a href="/wiki/Nodens">Nodens</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Anger_2013-36">[22]</a></sup> ancient and modern literature, like Finnish 19th-century <a href="/wiki/Epic_poetry">epic poetry</a> <i><a href="/wiki/Kalevala">The Kalevala</a></i> by <a href="/wiki/Elias_L%C3%B6nnrot">Elias Lönnrot</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-37">[23]</a></sup> and personal experience. He was inspired primarily by his profession, <a href="/wiki/Philology">philology</a>;<sup><a href="#cite_note-38">[T 9]</a></sup> his work centred on the study of <a href="/wiki/Old_English">Old English</a> literature, especially <i><a href="/wiki/Beowulf">Beowulf</a></i>, and he acknowledged <a href="/wiki/Beowulf_in_Middle-earth">its importance to his writings</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Shippey_2005_Beowulf-32">[20]</a></sup>
He was a gifted linguist, influenced by Celtic,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Burns_2005-39">[24]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Lee_Solopova_2005-35">[21]</a></sup> Finnish,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Kalevala-40">[25]</a></sup> Slavic,<sup><a href="#cite_note-41">[26]</a></sup> and Greek language and mythology.<sup><a href="#cite_note-42">[27]</a></sup>
Commentators have attempted to identify literary and topological antecedents for characters, places and events in Tolkien's writings; he acknowledged that he had enjoyed adventure stories by authors such as <a href="/wiki/John_Buchan">John Buchan</a> and <a href="/wiki/Rider_Haggard">Rider Haggard</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-43">[28]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Nelson_2013-44">[29]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Hooker_2011-45">[30]</a></sup> The <a href="/wiki/Arts_and_Crafts">Arts and Crafts</a> polymath <a href="/wiki/William_Morris">William Morris</a> was a major influence,<sup><a href="#cite_note-46">[T 10]</a></sup> and Tolkien undoubtedly made use of some real place-names, such as Bag End, the name of his aunt's home.<sup><a href="#cite_note-47">[31]</a></sup>
Tolkien stated, too, that he had been influenced by his childhood experiences of the English countryside of <a href="/wiki/Worcestershire">Worcestershire</a> near <a href="/wiki/Sarehole_Mill">Sarehole Mill</a>, and its urbanisation by the growth of <a href="/wiki/Birmingham">Birmingham</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-48">[T 11]</a></sup> and his personal experience of <a href="/wiki/Trench_warfare">fighting in the trenches</a> of the <a href="/wiki/First_World_War">First World War</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-shellshocked-49">[32]</a></sup> Moreover, the militarization and industrialization inspired the character of Sauron and his forces. The Orcs represented the worst of it as workers that have been tortured and brutalized by the war and industry.<sup><a href="#cite_note-50">[33]</a></sup>
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<h3>Themes[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=12">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Scholars and critics have identified <a href="/wiki/Themes_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">many themes in the book</a> with its <a href="/wiki/Interlacing_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">complex interlaced narrative</a>, including a reversed <a href="/wiki/Quest">quest</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Campbell2010-51">[34]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Miller_1975-52">[35]</a></sup> the struggle of <a href="/wiki/Good_and_evil">good and evil</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Flieger-53">[36]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/The_Tale_of_Aragorn_and_Arwen#Love_and_death">death and immortality</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Hannon_2004-54">[37]</a></sup> fate and free will,<sup><a href="#cite_note-Understanding_The_Lord_of_the_Rings-55">[38]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Addiction_to_power_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">the addictive danger of power</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-56">[39]</a></sup> and various aspects of <a href="/wiki/Christianity">Christianity</a> such as the presence of three <a href="/wiki/Christ">Christ</a> figures, for prophet, priest, and king, as well as elements like hope and <a href="/wiki/Redemptive_suffering">redemptive suffering</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Kreeft_2005-57">[40]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-58">[41]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-59">[42]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-60">[43]</a></sup>
There is a common theme throughout the work of <a href="/wiki/Languages_constructed_by_J._R._R._Tolkien#The_Lord_of_the_Rings">language</a>, its sound, and its relationship to peoples and places, along with hints of <a href="/wiki/Divine_providence">providence</a> in descriptions of weather and landscape.<sup><a href="#cite_note-61">[44]</a></sup> Out of these, Tolkien stated that the central theme is death and immortality.<sup><a href="#cite_note-62">[T 12]</a></sup> To those who supposed that the book was an <a href="/wiki/Allegory">allegory</a> of events in the 20th century, Tolkien replied in the foreword to the Second Edition that it was not, saying he preferred "history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers."
</p><p>Some commentators have criticized the book for being a story about men for boys, with no significant women; or about a purely rural world with no bearing on modern life in cities; of containing no sign of religion; or of racism. Other commentators responded by noting that there are three <a href="/wiki/Women_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">powerful women in the book</a>, Galadriel, Éowyn, and Arwen; that life, even in rural Hobbiton, is not idealised; that <a href="/wiki/Christianity_in_Middle-earth">Christianity is a pervasive theme</a>; and that <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_and_race">Tolkien was sharply anti-racist</a> both in peacetime and during the Second World War, while Middle-earth is evidently polycultural.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Wood_2003-63">[45]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Rearick_2004-64">[46]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-Straubhaar_2004-65">[47]</a></sup>
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<h2>Publication history[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=13">edit</a>]</h2>
<p>A dispute with his publisher, <a href="/wiki/Allen_%26_Unwin">George Allen &amp; Unwin</a>, led Tolkien to offer the work to <a href="/wiki/William_Collins,_Sons">William Collins</a> in 1950. Tolkien intended <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i> (itself largely unrevised at this point) to be published along with <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> but Allen &amp; Unwin were unwilling to do this. After Milton Waldman, his contact at Collins, expressed the belief that <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> itself "urgently wanted cutting", Tolkien eventually demanded that they publish the book in 1952.<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977211_ff.-66">[48]</a></sup> Collins did not; and so Tolkien wrote to Allen and Unwin, saying, "I would gladly consider the publication of any part of the stuff", fearing his work would never see the light of day.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-18">[10]</a></sup>
</p><p>For publication, the work was <a href="/wiki/Three-volume_novel">divided into three volumes</a> to minimize any potential financial loss due to the high cost of type-setting and modest anticipated sales: <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring">The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i> (Books I and II), <i><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers">The Two Towers</a></i> (Books III and IV), and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King">The Return of the King</a></i> (Books V and VI plus six appendices).<sup><a href="#cite_note-67">[49]</a></sup> Delays in producing appendices, <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_maps">maps</a> and especially an index led to the volumes being published later than originally hoped – on 29 July 1954, on 11 November 1954 and on 20 October 1955 respectively in the United Kingdom.<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977220–221-68">[50]</a></sup> In the United States, <a href="/wiki/Houghton_Mifflin_Harcourt">Houghton Mifflin</a> published <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> on 21 October 1954, <i>The Two Towers</i> on 21 April 1955, and <i>The Return of the King</i> on 5 January 1956.<sup><a href="#cite_note-69">[51]</a></sup>
</p><p><i>The Return of the King</i> was especially delayed as Tolkien revised the ending and prepared appendices (some of which had to be left out because of space constraints). Tolkien did not like the title <i>The Return of the King</i>, believing it gave away too much of the storyline, but deferred to his publisher's preference.<sup><a href="#cite_note-70">[52]</a></sup> Tolkien wrote that the title <i>The Two Towers</i> "can be left ambiguous",<sup><a href="#cite_note-TheLetters1981-71">[T 13]</a></sup> but considered naming the two as <a href="/wiki/Isengard#Orthanc_tower">Orthanc</a> and <a href="/wiki/Barad-d%C3%BBr">Barad-dûr</a>, <a href="/wiki/Minas_Tirith">Minas Tirith</a> and Barad-dûr, or Orthanc and the <a href="/wiki/Minor_places_in_Middle-earth#Tower_of_Cirith_Ungol">Tower of Cirith Ungol</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-72">[T 14]</a></sup> However, a month later he wrote a note published at the end of <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> and later drew a cover illustration, both of which identified the pair as <a href="/wiki/Minas_Morgul">Minas Morgul</a> and Orthanc.<sup><a href="#cite_note-73">[53]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-74">[54]</a></sup>
</p><p>Tolkien was initially opposed to titles being given to each two-book volume, preferring instead the use of book titles: e.g. <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>: Vol. 1, <i>The Ring Sets Out</i> and <i>The Ring Goes South</i>; Vol. 2, <i>The Treason of Isengard</i> and <i>The Ring Goes East</i>; Vol. 3, <i>The War of the Ring</i> and <i>The End of the Third Age</i>. However, these individual book titles were dropped, and after pressure from his publishers, Tolkien suggested the volume titles: Vol. 1, <i>The Shadow Grows</i>; Vol. 2, <i>The Ring in the Shadow</i>; Vol. 3, <i>The War of the Ring</i> or <i>The Return of the King</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-75">[55]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-76">[56]</a></sup>
</p><p>Because the three-volume binding was so widely distributed, the work is often referred to as the <i>Lord of the Rings</i> "<a href="/wiki/Trilogy">trilogy</a>". In a letter to the poet <a href="/wiki/W._H._Auden">W. H. Auden</a>, who famously reviewed the final volume in 1956,<sup><a href="#cite_note-audenNYT-77">[57]</a></sup> Tolkien himself made use of the term "trilogy" for the work<sup><a href="#cite_note-78">[T 15]</a></sup> though he did at other times consider this incorrect, as it was written and conceived as a single book.<sup><a href="#cite_note-79">[T 16]</a></sup> It is often called a <a href="/wiki/Novel">novel</a>; however, Tolkien objected to this term as he viewed it as a <a href="/wiki/Heroic_romance">heroic romance</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Letter_329-80">[T 17]</a></sup>
</p><p>The books were published under a profit-sharing arrangement, whereby Tolkien would not receive an advance or royalties until the books had broken even, after which he would take a large share of the profits.<sup><a href="#cite_note-81">[58]</a></sup> It has ultimately become one of the best-selling novels ever written, with 50 million copies sold by 2003<sup><a href="#cite_note-82">[59]</a></sup> and over 150 million copies sold by 2007.<sup><a href="#cite_note-thestar-4">[2]</a></sup> The work was published in the UK by Allen &amp; Unwin until 1990, when the publisher and its assets were acquired by <a href="/wiki/HarperCollins">HarperCollins</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-83">[60]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-84">[61]</a></sup>
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<h3>Editions and revisions[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=14">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>In the early 1960s <a href="/wiki/Donald_A._Wollheim">Donald A. Wollheim</a>, science fiction editor of the paperback publisher <a href="/wiki/Ace_Books">Ace Books</a>, claimed that <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was not protected in the United States under <a href="/wiki/Copyright_law_of_the_United_States">American copyright law</a> because Houghton Mifflin, the US hardcover publisher, had neglected to copyright the work in the United States.<sup><a href="#cite_note-85">[62]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-silver-86">[63]</a></sup> Then, in 1965, Ace Books proceeded to publish an edition, unauthorized by Tolkien and without paying <a href="/wiki/Royalties">royalties</a> to him. Tolkien took issue with this and quickly notified his fans of this objection.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Ripp-87">[64]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Grass-roots">Grass-roots</a> pressure from these fans became so great that Ace Books withdrew their edition and made a nominal payment to Tolkien.<sup><a href="#cite_note-reynolds-88">[65]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-89">[T 18]</a></sup>
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<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Remington_Covers_for_Ballantine_Lord_of_the_Rings_1960s.jpg"></a></p></div>
<p>Authorized editions followed from <a href="/wiki/Ballantine_Books">Ballantine Books</a> and <a href="/wiki/Houghton_Mifflin">Houghton Mifflin</a> to tremendous commercial success. Tolkien undertook various textual revisions to produce a version of the book that would be published with his consent and establish an unquestioned US copyright. This text became the Second Edition of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, published in 1965.<sup><a href="#cite_note-reynolds-88">[65]</a></sup> The first Ballantine paperback edition was printed in October that year, selling a quarter of a million copies within ten months. On 4 September 1966, the novel debuted on <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>'s Paperback Bestsellers list as number three, and was number one by 4 December, a position it held for eight weeks.<sup><a href="#cite_note-92">[68]</a></sup> Houghton Mifflin editions after 1994 consolidate variant revisions by Tolkien, and corrections supervised by <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher Tolkien</a>, which resulted, after some initial glitches, in a computer-based unified text.<sup><a href="#cite_note-93">[69]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 2004, for the 50th Anniversary Edition, <a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Wayne G. Hammond</a> and <a href="/wiki/Christina_Scull">Christina Scull</a>, under supervision from Christopher Tolkien, studied and revised the text to eliminate as many errors and inconsistencies as possible, some of which had been introduced by well-meaning compositors of the first printing in 1954, and never been corrected.<sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEHammondScull2005xl–xliv-94">[70]</a></sup> The 2005 edition of the book contained further corrections noticed by the editors and submitted by readers. Yet more corrections were made in the 60th Anniversary Edition in 2014.<sup><a href="#cite_note-95">[71]</a></sup> Several editions, including the 50th Anniversary Edition, print the whole work in one volume, with the result that pagination varies widely over the various editions.<sup><a href="#cite_note-50th_Anniversary_Edition-96">[T 19]</a></sup>
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<h3>Posthumous publication of drafts[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=15">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>From 1988 to 1992 Christopher Tolkien published the surviving drafts of <i>The Lord of The Rings</i>, chronicling and illuminating with commentary the stages of the text's development, in volumes 6–9 of his <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_Middle-earth">History of Middle-earth</a></i> series. The four volumes carry the titles <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_Shadow">The Return of the Shadow</a></i>, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Treason_of_Isengard">The Treason of Isengard</a></i>, <i><a href="/wiki/The_War_of_the_Ring">The War of the Ring</a></i>, and <i><a href="/wiki/Sauron_Defeated">Sauron Defeated</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-97">[72]</a></sup>
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<h3>Translations[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=16">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>The work has been translated, with varying degrees of success, into at least 38,<sup><a href="#cite_note-languages-10">[c]</a></sup> and reportedly at least 70, languages.<sup><a href="#cite_note-98">[73]</a></sup> Tolkien, an expert in <a href="/wiki/Philology">philology</a>, examined many of these translations, and made comments on each that reflect both the translation process and his work. As he was unhappy with some choices made by early translators, such as the <a href="/wiki/Translation_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings_into_Swedish">Swedish translation</a> by <a href="/wiki/%C3%85ke_Ohlmarks">Åke Ohlmarks</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-99">[T 20]</a></sup> Tolkien wrote a "<a href="/wiki/Guide_to_the_Names_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">Guide to the Names in The Lord of the Rings</a>" (1967). Because <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> purports to be a translation of the fictitious <i><a href="/wiki/Red_Book_of_Westmarch">Red Book of Westmarch</a></i>, using the English language to represent the <a href="/wiki/Westron">Westron</a> of the "original", Tolkien suggested that translators attempt to capture the interplay between English and the invented nomenclature of the English work, and gave several examples along with general guidance.<sup><a href="#cite_note-100">[74]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-FOOTNOTEHammondScull2005750–782-101">[75]</a></sup>
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<h2>Reception[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=17">edit</a>]</h2>
<h3>1950s[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=18">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Early <a href="/wiki/Reception_of_J._R._R._Tolkien">reviews of the work were mixed</a>. The initial review in the <i><a href="/wiki/Sunday_Telegraph">Sunday Telegraph</a></i> described it as "among the greatest works of imaginative fiction of the twentieth century".<sup><a href="#cite_note-Box-102">[76]</a></sup> The <i><a href="/wiki/The_Sunday_Times_(UK)">Sunday Times</a></i> echoed this sentiment, stating that "the English-speaking world is divided into those who have read <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and <i>The Hobbit</i> and those who are going to read them."<sup><a href="#cite_note-Box-102">[76]</a></sup> The <i><a href="/wiki/New_York_Herald_Tribune">New York Herald Tribune</a></i> appeared to predict the books' popularity, writing in its review that they were "destined to outlast our time".<sup><a href="#cite_note-103">[77]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/W._H._Auden">W. H. Auden</a>, a former pupil of Tolkien's and an admirer of his writings, regarded <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> as a "masterpiece", further stating that in some cases it outdid the achievement of <a href="/wiki/John_Milton">John Milton</a>'s <i><a href="/wiki/Paradise_Lost">Paradise Lost</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-104">[78]</a></sup> Kenneth F. Slater wrote in <a href="/wiki/Nebula_Science_Fiction">Nebula Science Fiction</a>, April 1955, "... if you don't read it, you have missed one of the finest books of its type ever to appear".<sup><a href="#cite_note-105">[79]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-106">[80]</a></sup> On the other hand, in 1955, the Scottish poet <a href="/wiki/Edwin_Muir">Edwin Muir</a> attacked <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King">The Return of the King</a></i>, writing that "All the characters are boys masquerading as adult heroes ... and will never come to puberty ... Hardly one of them knows anything about women", causing Tolkien to complain angrily to his publisher.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Lobdell_2013_in_Drout-107">[81]</a></sup> In 1956, the <a href="/wiki/Literary_critic">literary critic</a> <a href="/wiki/Edmund_Wilson">Edmund Wilson</a> wrote a review entitled "Oo, Those Awful Orcs!", calling Tolkien's work "juvenile trash", and saying "Dr. Tolkien has little skill at narrative and no instinct for literary form."<sup><a href="#cite_note-Wilson_1956-108">[82]</a></sup>
</p><p>Within Tolkien's literary group, <a href="/wiki/The_Inklings">The Inklings</a>, the work had a mixed reception. <a href="/wiki/Hugo_Dyson">Hugo Dyson</a> complained loudly at its readings,<sup><a href="#cite_note-109">[83]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-110">[84]</a></sup> whereas <a href="/wiki/C._S._Lewis">C. S. Lewis</a> had very different feelings, writing, "here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron. Here is a book which will break your heart."<sup><a href="#cite_note-Doughan_2006-15">[8]</a></sup> Lewis observed that the writing is rich, in that some of the 'good' characters have darker sides, and likewise some of the villains have "good impulses".<sup><a href="#cite_note-111">[85]</a></sup> Despite the mixed reviews and the lack of a paperback until the 1960s, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> initially sold well in hardback.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Doughan_2006-15">[8]</a></sup>
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<h3>Later[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=19">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>Judith Shulevitz, writing in <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>, criticized the "pedantry" of <a href="/wiki/Tolkien%27s_style">Tolkien's literary style</a>, saying that he "formulated a high-minded belief in the importance of his mission as a literary preservationist, which turns out to be death to literature itself".<sup><a href="#cite_note-112">[86]</a></sup> The critic Richard Jenkyns, writing in <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_Republic">The New Republic</a></i>, criticized the work for a lack of psychological depth. Both the characters and the work itself were, according to Jenkyns, "anemic, and lacking in fibre".<sup><a href="#cite_note-113">[87]</a></sup> The science fiction author <a href="/wiki/David_Brin">David Brin</a> interprets the work as holding unquestioning devotion to a traditional hierarchical social structure.<sup><a href="#cite_note-114">[88]</a></sup> In his essay "<a href="/wiki/Epic_Pooh">Epic Pooh</a>", fantasy author <a href="/wiki/Michael_Moorcock">Michael Moorcock</a> critiques the world-view displayed by the book as deeply conservative, in both the "<a href="/wiki/Paternalism">paternalism</a>" of the narrative voice and the <a href="/wiki/Power_structure">power structures</a> in the narrative.<sup><a href="#cite_note-115">[89]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Tom Shippey</a>, like Tolkien an English philologist, notes the wide gulf between Tolkien's supporters, both popular and academic, and his literary detractors, and attempts to explain in detail both why the literary establishment disliked <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, and the work's subtlety, themes, and merits, including the <a href="/wiki/Impression_of_depth_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">impression of depth</a> that it conveys.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Shippey_2005_critics-116">[90]</a></sup> The scholar of humanities <a href="/wiki/Brian_Rosebury">Brian Rosebury</a> analysed Tolkien's prose style in detail, showing that it was generally quite plain, varying to suit the voices of the different characters, and rising to a heroic register for special moments.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Rosebury_2003-117">[91]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Awards[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=20">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>In 1957, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was awarded the <a href="/wiki/International_Fantasy_Award">International Fantasy Award</a>. Despite its numerous detractors, the publication of the <a href="/wiki/Ace_Books">Ace Books</a> and <a href="/wiki/Ballantine_Books">Ballantine</a> paperbacks helped <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> become immensely popular in the United States in the 1960s. The book has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the twentieth century, judged by both sales and reader surveys.<sup><a href="#cite_note-118">[92]</a></sup> In the 2003 "<a href="/wiki/Big_Read">Big Read</a>" survey conducted in Britain by the BBC, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was found to be the "Nation's best-loved book". In similar 2004 polls both Germany<sup><a href="#cite_note-119">[93]</a></sup> and Australia<sup><a href="#cite_note-120">[94]</a></sup> chose <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> as their favourite book. In a 1999 poll of <a href="/wiki/Amazon.com">Amazon.com</a> customers, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium".<sup><a href="#cite_note-121">[95]</a></sup> In 2019, the <i><a href="/wiki/BBC_News">BBC News</a></i> listed <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> on its <a href="/wiki/BBC_list_of_100_%27most_inspiring%27_novels">list of the 100 most influential novels</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Bbc2019-11-05-122">[96]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Adaptations[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=21">edit</a>]</h2>
<p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has been adapted for radio, stage, film and television.
</p>
<h3>Radio[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=22">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>The book has been adapted for radio four times. In 1955 and 1956, the <a href="/wiki/BBC">BBC</a> broadcast <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1955_radio_series)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i>, a 13-part radio adaptation of the story. In the 1960s radio station <a href="/wiki/WBAI">WBAI</a> produced a short <a href="/wiki/Adaptations_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings#Audio">radio adaptation</a>. A 1979 dramatization of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1979_radio_series)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i> was broadcast in the United States and subsequently issued on tape and CD. In 1981, the BBC broadcast <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1981_radio_series)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i>, a new dramatization in 26 half-hour instalments.<sup><a href="#cite_note-123">[97]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-124">[98]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Film and television[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=23">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>A variety of filmmakers considered adapting Tolkien's book, among them <a href="/wiki/Stanley_Kubrick">Stanley Kubrick</a>, who thought it <a href="/wiki/Unfilmable">unfilmable</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-TolkienEncyl2006_15-125">[99]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-126">[100]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Michelangelo_Antonioni">Michelangelo Antonioni</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-127">[101]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Jim_Henson">Jim Henson</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-128">[102]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Heinz_Edelmann">Heinz Edelmann</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-129">[103]</a></sup> and <a href="/wiki/John_Boorman">John Boorman</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-130">[104]</a></sup>
A Swedish live action television film, <i><a href="/wiki/Sagan_om_ringen_(1971_film)">Sagan om ringen</a></i>, was broadcast in 1971.<sup><a href="#cite_note-131">[105]</a></sup>
In 1978, <a href="/wiki/Ralph_Bakshi">Ralph Bakshi</a> made an animated <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1978_film)">film version</a> covering <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> and part of <i>The Two Towers</i>, to mixed reviews.<sup><a href="#cite_note-132">[106]</a></sup> In 1980, <a href="/wiki/Rankin/Bass_Productions">Rankin/Bass</a> released <a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(1980_film)">an animated TV special</a> based on the closing chapters of <i>The Return of the King</i>, gaining mixed reviews.<sup><a href="#cite_note-133">[107]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-134">[108]</a></sup>
In Finland, a live action television miniseries, <i><a href="/wiki/Hobitit">Hobitit</a></i>, was broadcast in 1993 based on <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, with a flashback to Bilbo's encounter with Gollum in <i>The Hobbit</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-135">[109]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-136">[110]</a></sup>
</p><p>A far more successful adaptation was <a href="/wiki/Peter_Jackson">Peter Jackson</a>'s live action <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(film_series)"><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> film trilogy</a>, produced by <a href="/wiki/New_Line_Cinema">New Line Cinema</a> and released in three instalments as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring">The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i> (2001), <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Two_Towers">The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers</a></i> (2002), and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Return_of_the_King">The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King</a></i> (2003). All three parts won multiple <a href="/wiki/Academy_Awards">Academy Awards</a>, including consecutive <a href="/wiki/Academy_Award_for_Best_Picture">Best Picture</a> nominations. The final instalment of this trilogy was the second film to break the one-billion-dollar barrier and won a total of 11 <a href="/wiki/Academy_Awards">Oscars</a> (something only two other films in history, <i><a href="/wiki/Ben-Hur_(1959_film)">Ben-Hur</a></i> and <i><a href="/wiki/Titanic_(1997_film)">Titanic</a></i>, have accomplished), including <a href="/wiki/Academy_Award_for_Best_Picture">Best Picture</a>, <a href="/wiki/Academy_Award_for_Best_Director">Best Director</a> and <a href="/wiki/Academy_Award_for_Best_Adapted_Screenplay">Best Adapted Screenplay</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-137">[111]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-138">[112]</a></sup> Commentators including Tolkien scholars, literary critics and film critics are divided on <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_film_versus_book">how faithfully Jackson adapted Tolkien's work, or whether a film version is inevitably different</a>, and if so the reasons for any changes, and the effectiveness of the result.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Bogstad_Kaveny_2011-139">[113]</a></sup>
</p><p><i><a href="/wiki/The_Hunt_for_Gollum">The Hunt for Gollum</a></i>, a 2009 film by <a href="/wiki/Chris_Bouchard">Chris Bouchard</a>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-140">[114]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-141">[115]</a></sup> and the 2009 <i><a href="/wiki/Born_of_Hope">Born of Hope</a></i>, written by Paula DiSante and directed by <a href="/wiki/Kate_Madison">Kate Madison</a>, are <a href="/wiki/Fan_film">fan films</a> based on details in the appendices of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-142">[116]</a></sup>
</p><p>From September 2022, <a href="/wiki/Amazon_(company)">Amazon</a> is presenting a multi-season television series of stories, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Rings_of_Power">The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power</a></i>. It is set at the beginning of the <a href="/wiki/Second_Age">Second Age</a>, long before the time of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, based on materials in the novel's appendices.<sup><a href="#cite_note-143">[117]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-144">[118]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-145">[119]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Audiobooks[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=24">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>In 1990, <a href="/wiki/Recorded_Books">Recorded Books</a> published an <a href="/wiki/Audiobook">audio version</a> of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-146">[120]</a></sup> read by the British actor <a href="/wiki/Rob_Inglis">Rob Inglis</a>. A large-scale musical theatre adaptation, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(musical)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i>, was first staged in <a href="/wiki/Toronto">Toronto, Ontario, Canada</a> in 2006 and opened in London in June 2007; it was a commercial failure.<sup><a href="#cite_note-147">[121]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 2013, artist Phil Dragash recorded a full unabridged version of the book, using score from Peter Jackson's movies.<sup><a href="#cite_note-148">[122]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-149">[123]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-150">[124]</a></sup>
</p><p>During the <a href="/wiki/COVID-19_lockdown">COVID-19 lockdown</a>, <a href="/wiki/Andy_Serkis">Andy Serkis</a> read the entire book of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i> to raise money for charity.<sup><a href="#cite_note-151">[125]</a></sup> He then recorded the work again as an audiobook.<sup><a href="#cite_note-152">[126]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-153">[127]</a></sup> The cover art was done by <a href="/wiki/Alan_Lee_(illustrator)">Alan Lee</a>. In 2021, Serkis recorded <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> novels.<sup><a href="#cite_note-154">[128]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Legacy[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=25">edit</a>]</h2>
<h3>Influence on fantasy[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=26">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>The enormous popularity of Tolkien's work expanded the demand for <a href="/wiki/Fantasy">fantasy</a>. Largely thanks to <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> the genre flowered throughout the 1960s and enjoys popularity to the present day.<sup><a href="#cite_note-155">[129]</a></sup> The opus has spawned many imitations, such as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Sword_of_Shannara">The Sword of Shannara</a></i>, which <a href="/wiki/Lin_Carter">Lin Carter</a> called "the single most cold-blooded, complete rip-off of another book that I have ever read,"<sup><a href="#cite_note-carter-156">[130]</a></sup> as well as alternate interpretations of the story, such as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Last_Ringbearer">The Last Ringbearer</a></i>.
<i><a href="/wiki/The_Legend_of_Zelda">The Legend of Zelda</a></i>, which popularized the <a href="/wiki/Action-adventure_game">action-adventure game</a> genre in the 1980s, was inspired by <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> among other fantasy books.<sup><a href="#cite_note-157">[131]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-158">[132]</a></sup> <i><a href="/wiki/Dungeons_%26_Dragons">Dungeons &amp; Dragons</a></i>, which popularized the <a href="/wiki/Role-playing_game">role-playing game</a> genre in the 1970s, features several races from <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> including <a href="/wiki/Halfling">halflings</a> (hobbits), elves, dwarves, <a href="/wiki/Half-elven">half-elves</a>, orcs, and dragons. However, <a href="/wiki/Gary_Gygax">Gary Gygax</a>, lead designer of the game, maintained that he was influenced very little by <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, stating that he included these elements as a marketing move to draw on the popularity the work enjoyed at the time he was developing the game.<sup><a href="#cite_note-159">[133]</a></sup>
Because Dungeons &amp; Dragons has gone on to influence many popular games, especially <a href="/wiki/Role-playing_video_games">role-playing video games</a>, the influence of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> extends to many of them, with titles such as <i><a href="/wiki/Dragon_Quest">Dragon Quest</a></i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-160">[134]</a></sup><sup><a href="#cite_note-kurt-161">[135]</a></sup> <i><a href="/wiki/EverQuest">EverQuest</a></i>, the <i><a href="/wiki/Warcraft">Warcraft</a></i> series, and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Elder_Scrolls">The Elder Scrolls</a></i> series of games<sup><a href="#cite_note-162">[136]</a></sup> as well as <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_video_games">video games set in Middle-earth</a> itself.
</p>
<h3>Music[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=27">edit</a>]</h3>
<p>In 1965, the songwriter <a href="/wiki/Donald_Swann">Donald Swann</a>, best known for his collaboration with <a href="/wiki/Michael_Flanders">Michael Flanders</a> as <a href="/wiki/Flanders_%26_Swann">Flanders &amp; Swann</a>, set six poems from <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and one from <i><a href="/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tom_Bombadil">The Adventures of Tom Bombadil</a></i> ("Errantry") to music. When Swann met with Tolkien to play the songs for his approval, Tolkien suggested for "<a href="/wiki/Nam%C3%A1ri%C3%AB">Namárië</a>" (Galadriel's lament) a setting reminiscent of <a href="/wiki/Plain_chant">plain chant</a>, which Swann accepted.<sup><a href="#cite_note-163">[137]</a></sup> The songs were published in 1967 as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Road_Goes_Ever_On">The Road Goes Ever On: A Song Cycle</a></i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-164">[138]</a></sup> and a recording of the songs performed by singer William Elvin with Swann on piano was issued that same year by <a href="/wiki/Caedmon_Records">Caedmon Records</a> as <i>Poems and Songs of Middle Earth</i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-165">[139]</a></sup>
</p><p>Rock bands of the 1970s were musically and lyrically inspired by the fantasy-embracing counter-culture of the time. The British rock band <a href="/wiki/Led_Zeppelin">Led Zeppelin</a> recorded several songs that contain explicit references to <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, such as mentioning Gollum and Mordor in "<a href="/wiki/Ramble_On">Ramble On</a>", the <a href="/wiki/Misty_Mountains">Misty Mountains</a> in "<a href="/wiki/Misty_Mountain_Hop">Misty Mountain Hop</a>", and Ringwraiths in "<a href="/wiki/The_Battle_of_Evermore">The Battle of Evermore</a>". In 1970, the Swedish musician <a href="/wiki/Bo_Hansson">Bo Hansson</a> released an <a href="/wiki/Instrumental">instrumental</a> <a href="/wiki/Concept_album">concept album</a> entitled <i>Sagan om ringen</i> ("The Saga of the Ring", the title of the Swedish translation at the time).<sup><a href="#cite_note-Snider-166">[140]</a></sup> The album was subsequently released internationally as <i><a href="/wiki/Music_Inspired_by_Lord_of_the_Rings_(Bo_Hansson_album)">Music Inspired by Lord of the Rings</a></i> in 1972.<sup><a href="#cite_note-Snider-166">[140]</a></sup> From the 1980s onwards, many heavy metal acts have been influenced by Tolkien.<sup><a href="#cite_note-167">[141]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 1988, the Dutch composer and trombonist <a href="/wiki/Johan_de_Meij">Johan de Meij</a> completed his <i><a href="/wiki/Symphony_No._1_%22The_Lord_of_the_Rings%22">Symphony No. 1 "The Lord of the Rings"</a></i>. It had 5 movements, titled "Gandalf", "Lothlórien", "Gollum", "Journey in the Dark", and "Hobbits".<sup><a href="#cite_note-168">[142]</a></sup>
</p><p>The 1991 album <i><a href="/wiki/Shepherd_Moons">Shepherd Moons</a></i> by the Irish musician <a href="/wiki/Enya">Enya</a> contains an instrumental titled "Lothlórien", in reference to the home of the wood-elves.<sup><a href="#cite_note-OnlyTimeLPsleeve-169">[143]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Impact on popular culture[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=28">edit</a>]</h3>
<div><p><a href="/wiki/File:Matamata_sign.jpg"></a></p></div>
<p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has had a profound and wide-ranging impact on popular culture, beginning with its publication in the 1950s, but especially during the 1960s and 1970s, when young people embraced it as a <a href="/wiki/Counterculture">countercultural</a> saga.<sup><a href="#cite_note-170">[144]</a></sup> "<a href="/wiki/Frodo_Lives!">Frodo Lives!</a>" and "Gandalf for President" were two phrases popular amongst United States <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_fandom">Tolkien fans</a> during this time.<sup><a href="#cite_note-171">[145]</a></sup> Its impact is such that the words "Tolkienian" and "Tolkienesque" have entered the <i><a href="/wiki/Oxford_English_Dictionary">Oxford English Dictionary</a></i>, and many of his fantasy terms, formerly little-known in English, such as "<a href="/wiki/Orc">Orc</a>" and "<a href="/wiki/Warg">Warg</a>", have become widespread in that domain.<sup><a href="#cite_note-172">[146]</a></sup>
Among its effects are numerous <a href="/wiki/Parody">parodies</a>, especially <i><a href="/wiki/Harvard_Lampoon">Harvard Lampoon</a></i>'s <i><a href="/wiki/Bored_of_the_Rings">Bored of the Rings</a></i>, which has had the distinction of remaining continuously in print from its publication in 1969, and of being translated into at least 11 languages.<sup><a href="#cite_note-173">[147]</a></sup>
</p><p>In 1969, Tolkien sold the merchandising rights to <i>The Lord of The Rings</i> (and <i>The Hobbit</i>) to <a href="/wiki/United_Artists">United Artists</a> under an agreement stipulating a lump sum payment of £10,000<sup><a href="#cite_note-174">[148]</a></sup> plus a 7.5% royalty after costs,<sup><a href="#cite_note-175">[149]</a></sup> payable to Allen &amp; Unwin and the author.<sup><a href="#cite_note-176">[150]</a></sup> In 1976, three years after the author's death, United Artists sold the rights to <a href="/wiki/Saul_Zaentz">Saul Zaentz</a> Company, who now trade as <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_Enterprises">Tolkien Enterprises</a>. Since then all "authorised" merchandise has been signed off by Tolkien Enterprises, although the <a href="/wiki/Intellectual_property">intellectual property rights</a> of the specific likenesses of characters and other imagery from various adaptations is generally held by the adaptors.<sup><a href="#cite_note-177">[151]</a></sup>
</p><p>Outside commercial exploitation from adaptations, from the late 1960s onwards there has been an increasing variety of original licensed merchandise, with posters and calendars created by illustrators such as <a href="/wiki/Barbara_Remington">Barbara Remington</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-178">[152]</a></sup>
</p><p>The work was named Britain's best novel of all time in the BBC's <a href="/wiki/The_Big_Read">The Big Read</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-179">[153]</a></sup> In 2015, the BBC ranked <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> 26th on its list of the 100 greatest British novels.<sup><a href="#cite_note-180">[154]</a></sup> It was included in <i><a href="/wiki/Le_Monde">Le Monde</a></i>'s list of "<a href="/wiki/Le_Monde%27s_100_Books_of_the_Century">100 Books of the Century</a>".<sup><a href="#cite_note-181">[155]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Notes[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=29">edit</a>]</h2>
<div><ol>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-3">^</a></b> <a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien">J. R. R. Tolkien</a> did not like it when the word "novel" was used to describe his works, but the term is commonly applied. He preferred the phrase "heroic <a href="/wiki/Chivalric_romance">romance</a>".<sup><a href="#cite_note-2">[T 1]</a></sup>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-6">^</a></b> Tolkien has the wizard Gandalf say to the hobbit Frodo "the Black Riders are the Ringwraiths, the Nine Servants of the Lord of the Rings."<sup><a href="#cite_note-5">[T 2]</a></sup>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-languages_10-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-languages_10-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> At least 38 languages are listed at the <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070530043707/http://www.tolkien.co.uk/faq3.aspx">FAQ</a>. This number is a conservative estimate; some 56 translations are listed at <a href="/wiki/Translations_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">translations of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i></a>, and 57 languages are listed at <a href="http://www.elrondslibrary.fr/">Elrond's Library</a>.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-cousins_12-0">^</a></b> Although Frodo refers to Bilbo as his "uncle", the character is introduced in "A Long-expected Party" as one of Bilbo's younger cousins. The two were in fact first <i>and</i> second cousins, once removed either way (his paternal great-great-uncle's son's son and his maternal great-aunt's son).
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-17">^</a></b> Tolkien created the word to define a different view of myth from C. S. Lewis's "lies breathed through silver", writing the poem <i><a href="/wiki/Mythopoeia_(poem)">Mythopoeia</a></i> to present his argument; it was first published in <i><a href="/wiki/Tree_and_Leaf">Tree and Leaf</a></i> in 1988.<sup><a href="#cite_note-HammondScull620-16">[9]</a></sup>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-30">^</a></b> See the lead images in the articles on the three separate volumes, e.g. <a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring">The Fellowship of the Ring</a>.
</li>
</ol></div>
<h2>References[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=30">edit</a>]</h2>
<h3>Primary[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=31">edit</a>]</h3>
<div><ol>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-2">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #329 to Peter Szabo Szentmihalyi, October 1971
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-5">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien">Tolkien, J. R. R.</a> (1954a). <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring">The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i>. <i><a>The Lord of the Rings</a></i>. Boston: <a href="/wiki/Houghton_Mifflin">Houghton Mifflin</a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/9552942">9552942</a>.</cite> book 2, ch. 1 "Many Meetings"
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-8">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #126 to Milton Waldman (draft), 10 March 1950
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-21">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #17 to <a href="/wiki/Stanley_Unwin_(publisher)">Stanley Unwin</a>, 15 October 1937
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Letters_Languages_27-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #144 to <a href="/wiki/Naomi_Mitchison">Naomi Mitchison</a>, 25 April 1954
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Letter_#141_29-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #141 to Allen &amp; Unwin, 9 October 1953
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-33">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFTolkien1997">Tolkien 1997</a>, pp. 162–197 "English and Welsh"
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-letters_34-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #142 to Robert Murray, S. J., 2 December 1953
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-38">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #165 to <a href="/wiki/Houghton_Mifflin">Houghton Mifflin</a>, 30 June 1955
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-46">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #19 to <a href="/wiki/Stanley_Unwin_(publisher)">Stanley Unwin</a>, 31 December 1960
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-48">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #178 to Allen &amp; Unwin, 12 December 1955, and #303 to Nicholas Thomas, 6 May 1968
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-62">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #211 to Rhona Beare, 14 October 1958
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-TheLetters1981_71-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #140 to <a href="/wiki/Rayner_Unwin">Rayner Unwin</a>, 17 August 1953
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-72">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #143 to <a href="/wiki/Rayner_Unwin">Rayner Unwin</a>, 22 January 1954
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-78">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #163 to <a href="/wiki/W._H._Auden">W. H. Auden</a>, 7 June 1955
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-79">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #149 to <a href="/wiki/Rayner_Unwin">Rayner Unwin</a>, 9 September 1954
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Letter_329_80-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #239 to Peter Szabo Szentmihalyi, draft, October 1971
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-89">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letters #270, #273 and #277
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-50th_Anniversary_Edition_96-0">^</a></b> <cite>Tolkien, J. R. R. (2004). <i>The Lord of the Rings 50th Anniversary Edition</i>. HarperCollins. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-261-10320-7"><bdi>978-0-261-10320-7</bdi></a>. <q>This special 50th anniversary hardback edition of J. R. R. Tolkien's classic masterpiece includes the complete revised and reset text, two-fold out maps printed in red and black and, unique to this edition, a full-colour fold-out reproduction of Tolkien's own facsimile pages from the <a href="/wiki/Book_of_Mazarbul">Book of Mazarbul</a> that the Fellowship discover in Moria.</q></cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-99">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letters #228 and #229 to Allen &amp; Unwin, 24 January 1961 and 23 February 1961
</li>
</ol></div>
<h3>Secondary[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=32">edit</a>]</h3>
<div><ol>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-1">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Jane_Chance">Chance, Jane</a> (1980) [1979]. <i>The Lord of the Rings: Tolkien's Epic</i>. <i>Tolkien's Art: A Mythology for England</i>. Macmillan. pp. 97–127. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-333-29034-8"><bdi>0-333-29034-8</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-thestar_4-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-thestar_4-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Wagner, Vit (16 April 2007). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110309035210/http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/article/203389">"Tolkien proves he's still the king"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Toronto_Star">Toronto Star</a></i>. Archived from <a href="https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/article/203389">the original</a> on 9 March 2011. Retrieved 8 March 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-tale_7-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-tale_7-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Reynolds, Pat. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20160303231904/http://www.tolkiensociety.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/LOTR-The-Tale-of-a-Text.pdf">"The Lord of the Rings: The Tale of a Text"</a> (PDF). <a href="/wiki/The_Tolkien_Society">The Tolkien Society</a>. Archived from <a href="http://www.tolkiensociety.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/LOTR-The-Tale-of-a-Text.pdf">the original</a> (PDF) on 3 March 2016. Retrieved 24 October 2015.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-9">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A672022">"The Life and Works for JRR Tolkien"</a>. <a href="/wiki/BBC">BBC</a>. 7 February 2002. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20101101074147/http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A672022">Archived</a> from the original on 1 November 2010. Retrieved 4 December 2010.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-11">^</a></b> <cite>Gilsdorf, Ethan (23 March 2007). <a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2007/03/23/travel/escapes/23Ahead.html">"Elvish Impersonators"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20071205101604/http://travel.nytimes.com/2007/03/23/travel/escapes/23Ahead.html">Archived</a> from the original on 5 December 2007. Retrieved 3 April 2007.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Hooker_13-0">^</a></b> <cite>Hooker, Mark T. (2006). <i>The Feigned-manuscript Topos</i>. <i>A Tolkienian Mathomium: a collection of articles on J. R. R. Tolkien and his legendarium</i>. Llyfrawr. pp. 176–177. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-4382-4631-4"><bdi>978-1-4382-4631-4</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Bowman_2006_14-0">^</a></b> <cite>Bowman, Mary R. (October 2006). "The Story Was Already Written: Narrative Theory in "The Lord of the Rings"". <i>Narrative</i>. <b>14</b> (3): 272–293. <a href="/wiki/Doi_(identifier)">doi</a>:<a href="https://doi.org/10.1353%2Fnar.2006.0010">10.1353/nar.2006.0010</a>. <a href="/wiki/JSTOR_(identifier)">JSTOR</a> <a href="//www.jstor.org/stable/20107391">20107391</a>. <a href="/wiki/S2CID_(identifier)">S2CID</a> <a href="https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:162244172">162244172</a>. <q>the frame of the Red Book of Westmarch, which becomes one of the major structural devices Tolkien uses to invite meta-fictional reflection... He claims, in essence, that the story <i>was</i> already written...</q></cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Doughan_2006_15-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Doughan_2006_15-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Doughan_2006_15-2"><sup><i><b>c</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Doughan, David. <a href="http://www.tolkiensociety.org/tolkien/biography.html">"J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch"</a>. TolkienSociety.org. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060303050751/http://www.tolkiensociety.org/tolkien/biography.html">Archived</a> from the original on 3 March 2006. Retrieved 16 June 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-HammondScull620_16-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Hammond, Wayne G.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Christina_Scull">Scull, Christina</a> (2006). <a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Companion_and_Guide"><i>The J. R. R. Tolkien Companion and Guide: II. Reader's Guide</i></a>. <a href="/wiki/HarperCollins">HarperCollins</a>. pp. 620–622. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-00-821453-1"><bdi>978-0-00-821453-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-2"><sup><i><b>c</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-3"><sup><i><b>d</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-4"><sup><i><b>e</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-5"><sup><i><b>f</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-6"><sup><i><b>g</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-7"><sup><i><b>h</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-genesis_18-8"><sup><i><b>i</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 187–208
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977195_19-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, p. 195.
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-20">^</a></b> <cite>Rérolle, Raphaëlle (5 December 2012). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20130210205838/http://www.worldcrunch.com/culture-society/my-father-039-s-quot-eviscerated-quot-work-son-of-hobbit-scribe-j.r.r.-tolkien-finally-speaks-out/hobbit-silmarillion-lord-of-rings/c3s10299/">"My Father's 'Eviscerated' Work – Son Of Hobbit Scribe J. R. R. Tolkien Finally Speaks Out"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Le_Monde">Le Monde</a>/Worldcrunch</i>. Archived from <a href="https://www.worldcrunch.com/culture-society/my-father-039-s-quot-eviscerated-quot-work-son-of-hobbit-scribe-j.r.r.-tolkien-finally-speaks-out/hobbit-silmarillion-lord-of-rings/c3s10299/">the original</a> on 10 February 2013.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-22">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://www.marquette.edu/library/archives/tolkien.shtml#original">"J. R. R. Tolkien Collection: Marquette Archives | Raynor Memorial Libraries | Marquette University"</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20131219041430/http://www.marquette.edu/library/archives/tolkien.shtml#original">Archived</a> from the original on 19 December 2013.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Kullmann_2013_23-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Kullmann_2013_23-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Kullmann, Thomas (2013). <a href="https://www.connotations.de/article/thomas-kullmann-poetic-insertions-in-tolkiens-the-lord-of-the-rings/">"Poetic Insertions in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Connotations:_A_Journal_for_Critical_Debate">Connotations: A Journal for Critical Debate</a></i>. <b>23</b> (2): 283–309. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20181108030807/http://www.connotations.de/article/thomas-kullmann-poetic-insertions-in-tolkiens-the-lord-of-the-rings/">Archived</a> from the original on 8 November 2018. Retrieved 15 May 2020.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Higgins_2014_24-0">^</a></b> <cite>Higgins, Andrew (2014). <a href="http://scholar.valpo.edu/journaloftolkienresearch/vol1/iss1/4">"Tolkien's Poetry (2013), edited by Julian Eilmann and Allan Turner"</a>. <i>Journal of Tolkien Research</i>. <b>1</b> (1). Article 4. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20190801054309/https://scholar.valpo.edu/journaloftolkienresearch/vol1/iss1/4/">Archived</a> from the original on 1 August 2019. Retrieved 15 May 2020.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Straubhaar_2005_25-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Sandra_Ballif_Straubhaar">Straubhaar, Sandra Ballif</a> (2005). "Gilraen's Linnod : Function, Genre, Prototypes". <i>Journal of Tolkien Studies</i>. <b>2</b> (1): 235–244. <a href="/wiki/Doi_(identifier)">doi</a>:<a href="https://doi.org/10.1353%2Ftks.2005.0032">10.1353/tks.2005.0032</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISSN_(identifier)">ISSN</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/issn/1547-3163">1547-3163</a>. <a href="/wiki/S2CID_(identifier)">S2CID</a> <a href="https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:170378314">170378314</a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Zimmer_1993_26-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Paul_Edwin_Zimmer">Zimmer, Paul Edwin</a> (1993). <a href="https://dc.swosu.edu/mythlore/vol19/iss2/2">"Another Opinion of 'The Verse of J. R. R. Tolkien'"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Mythlore">Mythlore</a></i>. <b>19</b> (2). Article 2.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-28">^</a></b> <cite>Holmes, John R. (2013) [2007]. "Art and Illustrations by Tolkien". In <a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia">The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia</a></i>. <a href="/wiki/Routledge">Routledge</a>. pp. 27–32. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-86511-1"><bdi>978-0-415-86511-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Carmel_2020_31-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Carmel_2020_31-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Carmel, Julia (15 February 2020). <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/15/books/barbara-remington-dead.html">"Barbara Remington, Illustrator of Tolkien Book Covers, Dies at 90"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>. Retrieved 4 September 2020.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Shippey_2005_Beowulf_32-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Shippey_2005_Beowulf_32-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite><a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Shippey, Tom</a> (2005) [1982]. <i>The Road to Middle-earth</i> (Third ed.). HarperCollins. pp. 74, 169–170 and passim. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-261-10275-0"><bdi>978-0-261-10275-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Lee_Solopova_2005_35-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Lee_Solopova_2005_35-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite><a href="/wiki/Stuart_D._Lee">Lee, Stuart D.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Elizabeth_Solopova">Solopova, Elizabeth</a> (2005). <i>The Keys of Middle-earth: Discovering Medieval Literature Through the Fiction of J. R. R. Tolkien</i>. Palgrave. pp. 124–125. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-4039-4671-3"><bdi>978-1-4039-4671-3</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Anger_2013_36-0">^</a></b> <cite>Anger, Don N. (2013) [2007]. "Report on the Excavation of the Prehistoric, Roman and Post-Roman Site in Lydney Park, Gloucestershire". In <a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia">The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia</a></i>. <a href="/wiki/Routledge">Routledge</a>. pp. 563–564. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-86511-1"><bdi>978-0-415-86511-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-37">^</a></b> <cite>Noble Smith (2013). "Chapter 5: Dealing with "the Big People"". <i>The Wisdom of the Shire: A Short Guide to a Long and Happy Life</i>. <a href="/wiki/St._Martin%27s_Press">St. Martin's Griffin</a>. p. 46. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1250038296"><bdi>978-1250038296</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Burns_2005_39-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Marjorie_Burns">Burns, Marjorie</a> (2005). <i>Perilous Realms: Celtic and Norse in Tolkien's Middle-earth</i>. <a href="/wiki/University_of_Toronto_Press">University of Toronto Press</a>. pp. 13–29 and passim. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-8020-3806-7"><bdi>978-0-8020-3806-7</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Kalevala_40-0">^</a></b> <cite>Handwerk, Brian (1 March 2004). <a href="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2001/12/1219_tolkienroots.html">"<i>Lord of the Rings</i> Inspired by an Ancient Epic"</a>. <i>National Geographic News</i>. <a href="/wiki/National_Geographic_Society">National Geographic Society</a>. pp. 1–2. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060316192124/http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2001/12/1219_tolkienroots.html">Archived</a> from the original on 16 March 2006. Retrieved 4 October 2006.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-41">^</a></b> <cite>Kuzmenko, Dmitry. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20120425143036/http://kuzmenko.org.ua/uk/tolkienslavic">"Slavic echoes in the works of J. R. R. Tolkien"</a> (in Ukrainian). Archived from <a href="http://kuzmenko.org.ua/uk/tolkienslavic">the original</a> on 25 April 2012. Retrieved 6 November 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-42">^</a></b> <cite>Stanton, Michael (2001). <i>Hobbits, Elves, and Wizards: Exploring the Wonders and Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings</i>. <a href="/wiki/Palgrave_Macmillan">Palgrave Macmillan</a>. p. 18. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/1-4039-6025-9"><bdi>1-4039-6025-9</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-43">^</a></b> <cite>Resnick, Henry (1967). "An Interview with Tolkien". <i><a href="/wiki/Niekas">Niekas</a></i>: 37–47.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Nelson_2013_44-0">^</a></b> <cite>Nelson, Dale (2013) [2007]. "Literary Influences, Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries". In <a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia">The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia</a></i>. <a href="/wiki/Routledge">Routledge</a>. pp. 366–377. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-86511-1"><bdi>978-0-415-86511-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Hooker_2011_45-0">^</a></b> <cite>Hooker, Mark T. (2011). Fisher, Jason (ed.). <i>Reading John Buchan in Search of Tolkien</i>. <i>Tolkien and the study of his sources : critical essays</i>. <a href="/wiki/McFarland_%26_Company">McFarland</a>. pp. 162–192. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-7864-6482-1"><bdi>978-0-7864-6482-1</bdi></a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/731009810">731009810</a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-47">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.explorethepast.co.uk/2013/05/lord-of-the-rings-inspiration-in-the-archives/">"Lord of the Rings inspiration in the archives"</a>. <i>Explore the Past (Worcestershire Historic Environment Record)</i>. 29 May 2013.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-shellshocked_49-0">^</a></b> <cite>Livingston, Michael (2006). <a href="http://www.thefreelibrary.com/The+shell-shocked+hobbit%3A+the+First+World+War+and+Tolkien's+trauma+of...-a0154698400">"The Shellshocked Hobbit: The First World War and Tolkien's Trauma of the Ring"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Mythlore">Mythlore</a></i>. Mythopoeic Society. pp. 77–92. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20111223203526/http://www.thefreelibrary.com/The+shell-shocked+hobbit%3A+the+First+World+War+and+Tolkien%27s+trauma+of...-a0154698400">Archived</a> from the original on 23 December 2011. Retrieved 3 June 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-50">^</a></b> <cite>Ahmed, Ali Arslan (8 May 2020). <a href="https://dankanator.com/62698/how-war-inspired-j-r-r-tolkien-write-lord-of-the-rings/">"How War Inspired JRR Tolkien To Write Lord Of The Rings"</a>. <i>Dankanator</i>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Campbell2010_51-0">^</a></b> <cite>Campbell, Lori M. (2010). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=rUl_kTyiTuAC&amp;pg=PA161"><i>Portals of Power: Magical Agency and Transformation in Literary Fantasy</i></a>. McFarland. p. 161. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-7864-5655-0"><bdi>978-0-7864-5655-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Miller_1975_52-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Richard_C._West">West, Richard C.</a> (1975). <a href="/wiki/Jared_Lobdell">Lobdell, Jared</a> (ed.). <i>Narrative Pattern in 'The Fellowship of the Ring'</i>. <i>A Tolkien Compass</i>. Open Court. p. 96. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-87548-303-0"><bdi>978-0-87548-303-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Flieger_53-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Verlyn_Flieger">Flieger, Verlyn</a> (2002). <a href="/wiki/Splintered_Light"><i>Splintered Light: Logos and Language in Tolkien's World</i></a> (2nd ed.). <a href="/wiki/Kent_State_University_Press">Kent State University Press</a>. p. 2. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-87338-744-6"><bdi>978-0-87338-744-6</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Hannon_2004_54-0">^</a></b> <cite>Hannon, Patrice (2004). <a href="https://dc.swosu.edu/mythlore/vol24/iss2/4/">"The Lord of the Rings as Elegy"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Mythlore">Mythlore</a></i>. <b>24</b> (2): 36–42.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Understanding_The_Lord_of_the_Rings_55-0">^</a></b> <cite>Spacks, Patricia Meyer (2005). "Power and Meaning in 'The Lord of the Rings'". In Isaacs, Neil David; <a href="/wiki/Rose_Zimbardo">Zimbardo, Rose A.</a> (eds.). <i>Understanding The Lord of the Rings: The Best of Tolkien Criticism</i>. <a href="/wiki/Houghton_Mifflin">Houghton Mifflin</a>. pp. 58–64. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-618-42253-1"><bdi>978-0-618-42253-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-56">^</a></b> <cite>Perkins, Agnes; Hill, Helen (1975). <a href="/wiki/Jared_Lobdell">Lobdell, Jared</a> (ed.). <i>The Corruption of Power</i>. <i>A Tolkien Compass</i>. Open Court. pp. 57–68. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-87548-303-0"><bdi>978-0-87548-303-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Kreeft_2005_57-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Peter_Kreeft">Kreeft, Peter J.</a> (November 2005). <a href="http://www.ignatiusinsight.com/features2005/pkreeft_christlotr_nov05.asp">"The Presence of Christ in The Lord of the Rings"</a>. <i>Ignatius Insight</i>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-58">^</a></b> <cite>Kerry, Paul E. (2010). Kerry, Paul E. (ed.). <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=32FODDQdKLIC&amp;q=Tolkien+Frodo+Christ&amp;pg=PA33"><i>The Ring and the Cross: Christianity and the Lord of the Rings</i></a>. Fairleigh Dickinson. pp. 32–34. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-61147-065-9"><bdi>978-1-61147-065-9</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-59">^</a></b> <cite>Schultz, Forrest W. (1 December 2002). <a href="https://chalcedon.edu/magazine/christian-typologies-in-the-lord-of-the-rings">"Christian Typologies in The Lord of the Rings"</a>. Chalcedon. Retrieved 26 March 2020.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-60">^</a></b> <cite>Williams, Stan. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20131220231901/http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/arts/al0160.html">"20 Ways 'The Lord of the Rings' Is Both Christian and Catholic"</a>. <i>Catholic Education Resource Center</i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/arts/al0160.html">the original</a> on 20 December 2013. Retrieved 20 December 2013.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-61">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Shippey, Tom</a> (2005) [1982]. <i>The Road to Middle-earth</i> (Third ed.). HarperCollins. pp. 129–133, 245–247. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-261-10275-0"><bdi>978-0-261-10275-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Wood_2003_63-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Ralph_C._Wood">Wood, Ralph C.</a> (2003). <a href="https://archive.org/details/gospelaccordingt00wood"><i>The Gospel According to Tolkien</i></a>. Westminster John Knox Press. pp. <a href="https://archive.org/details/gospelaccordingt00wood/page/2">2</a>-4. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-664-23466-9"><bdi>978-0-664-23466-9</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Rearick_2004_64-0">^</a></b> <cite>Rearick, Anderson (2004). "Why is the Only Good Orc a Dead Orc? The Dark Face of Racism Examined in Tolkien's World". <i>Modern Fiction Studies</i>. <b>50</b> (4): 866–867. <a href="/wiki/Doi_(identifier)">doi</a>:<a href="https://doi.org/10.1353%2Fmfs.2005.0008">10.1353/mfs.2005.0008</a>. <a href="/wiki/S2CID_(identifier)">S2CID</a> <a href="https://api.semanticscholar.org/CorpusID:162647975">162647975</a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Straubhaar_2004_65-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Sandra_Ballif_Straubhaar">Straubhaar, Sandra Ballif</a> (2004). <a href="/wiki/Jane_Chance">Chance, Jane</a> (ed.). <i>Myth, Late Roman History, and Multiculturalism in Tolkien's Middle-earth</i>. <i>Tolkien and the invention of myth : a reader</i>. University Press of Kentucky. pp. 112–115. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-8131-2301-1"><bdi>978-0-8131-2301-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977211_ff._66-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 211 ff..
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-67">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Rayner_Unwin">Unwin, Rayner</a> (1999). <i>George Allen &amp; Unwin: A Remembrancer</i>. Merlin Unwin Books. pp. 97–99. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/1-873674-37-6"><bdi>1-873674-37-6</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTECarpenter1977220–221_68-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1977">Carpenter 1977</a>, pp. 220–221.
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-69">^</a></b> The Fellowship of the Ring: Being the First Part of The Lord of the Rings (publication history) <cite>Tolkien, J. R. R. (15 February 2012). <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20171115130014/https://books.google.com/books?id=aWZzLPhY4o0C&amp;pg=PT4&amp;dq=1954;+an+American+edition+followed+on+21+October+of+the+same+year,+of+Boston&amp;hl=no&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=0ahUKEwi7yN_4uMPUAhWkYZoKHYvsBRMQ6AEIJjAA"><i>The Fellowship of the Ring: Being the First Part of the Lord of the Rings</i></a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0547952017"><bdi>978-0547952017</bdi></a>. Archived from the original on 15 November 2017. Retrieved 16 September 2017.</cite><code>{{<a href="/wiki/Template:Cite_book">cite book</a>}}</code>: CS1 maint: bot: original URL status unknown (<a href="/wiki/Category:CS1_maint:_bot:_original_URL_status_unknown">link</a>)
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-73">^</a></b> "The second part is called <i>The Two Towers</i>, since the events recounted in it are dominated by Orthanc, ..., and the fortress of Minas Morgul..."
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-74">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://images.harpercollins.co.uk/hcwebimages/hccovers/032800/032878-fc170.jpg">"Tolkien's own cover design for <i>The Two Towers</i>"</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20160304065943/http://images.harpercollins.co.uk/hcwebimages/hccovers/032800/032878-fc170.jpg">Archived</a> from the original on 4 March 2016. Retrieved 22 January 2020.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-75">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFCarpenter1981">Carpenter 1981</a>, letter #137, #140, #143 all to <a href="/wiki/Rayner_Unwin">Rayner Unwin</a>, his publisher, in 1953-4
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-76">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Tolkien, Christopher</a> (2000). <i>The War of the Ring: The History of The Lord of the Rings</i>. Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-618-08359-6"><bdi>0-618-08359-6</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-audenNYT_77-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/W._H._Auden">Auden, W. H.</a> (26 January 1956). <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1956/01/26/movies/LOTR-RETURN.html">"At the End of the Quest, Victory: Book Review, "The Return of the King""</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20160130224036/http://www.nytimes.com/1956/01/26/movies/LOTR-RETURN.html">Archived</a> from the original on 30 January 2016. Retrieved 21 February 2020.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-82">^</a></b> <cite>Pate, Nancy (20 August 2003). <a href="https://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/fl-xpm-2003-08-20-0308190249-story.html">"Lord of the Rings Films Work Magic on Tolkien Book Sales"</a>. <i>SunSentinel</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20181120221205/https://www.sun-sentinel.com/news/fl-xpm-2003-08-20-0308190249-story.html">Archived</a> from the original on 20 November 2018. Retrieved 20 November 2018.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-84">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Rayner_Unwin">Unwin, Rayner</a> (1999). <i>George Allen &amp; Unwin: A Remembrancer</i>. Merlin Unwin Books. p. 288. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/1-873674-37-6"><bdi>1-873674-37-6</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-85">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://www.locusmag.com/2006/Issues/06Wollheim.html">"Betsy Wollheim: The Family Trade"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Locus_Online">Locus Online</a></i>. June 2006. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110131234722/http://www.locusmag.com/2006/Issues/06Wollheim.html">Archived</a> from the original on 31 January 2011. Retrieved 22 January 2011.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-silver_86-0">^</a></b> <cite>Silverberg, Robert (1997). <a href="https://archive.org/details/reflectionsrefra00silv/page/253"><i>Reflections &amp; Refractions: Thoughts on Science Fiction, Science, and Other Matters</i></a>. Underwood. pp. 253–256]. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/1-887424-22-9"><bdi>1-887424-22-9</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Ripp_87-0">^</a></b> <cite>Ripp, Joseph. <a href="http://ils.unc.edu/MSpapers/2908.pdf">"Middle America Meets Middle-earth: American Publication and Discussion of J. R. R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings"</a> (PDF). p. 38. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20151105143951/http://ils.unc.edu/MSpapers/2908.pdf">Archived</a> (PDF) from the original on 5 November 2015.</cite>
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<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-reynolds_88-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-reynolds_88-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Reynolds, Pat. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060908022929/http://www.tolkiensociety.com/tolkien/tale.html">"The Lord of the Rings: The Tale of a Text"</a>. The Tolkien Society. Archived from <a href="http://www.tolkiensociety.com/tolkien/tale.html">the original</a> on 8 September 2006.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-93">^</a></b> "Notes on the text" pp. xi–xiii, <a href="/wiki/Douglas_A._Anderson">Douglas A. Anderson</a>, in the 1994 HarperCollins edition of <i>The Fellowship of the Ring.</i>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEHammondScull2005xl–xliv_94-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFHammondScull2005">Hammond &amp; Scull 2005</a>, pp. xl–xliv.
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-95">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://wayneandchristina.wordpress.com/2014/12/21/lord-of-the-rings-comparison-2/">"Lord of the Rings Comparison"</a>. 21 December 2014. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20171007220421/https://wayneandchristina.wordpress.com/2014/12/21/lord-of-the-rings-comparison-2/">Archived</a> from the original on 7 October 2017.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-97">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Tolkien, Christopher</a> (2002) [1988–1992]. <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_the_Lord_of_the_Rings">The History of the Lord of the Rings</a>: Box Set (The History of Middle-earth)</i>. <a href="/wiki/HarperCollins">HarperCollins</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-261-10370-2"><bdi>978-0-261-10370-2</bdi></a>. <a href="/wiki/OCLC_(identifier)">OCLC</a> <a href="//www.worldcat.org/oclc/43216229">43216229</a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-98">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://www.elrondslibrary.fr/">"Elrond's Library – Translations of Tolkien all over the world"</a>. <i>www.elrondslibrary.fr</i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20171201042343/http://www.elrondslibrary.fr/">Archived</a> from the original on 1 December 2017. Retrieved 28 September 2020. <q>I have gathered in my library editions of these books in 70 languages</q></cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-100">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Jared_Lobdell">Lobdell, Jared</a> (1975). <i>Guide to the Names in The Lord of the Rings</i>. <i>A Tolkien Compass</i>. Open Court. pp. 153–201. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-87548-303-0"><bdi>978-0-87548-303-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-FOOTNOTEHammondScull2005750–782_101-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFHammondScull2005">Hammond &amp; Scull 2005</a>, pp. 750–782.
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<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Box_102-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Box_102-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20101210071507/http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Lord-of-the-Rings-Boxed-Set/J-R-R-Tolkien/e/9780618260584/#TABS">"The Lord of the Rings Boxed Set (Lord of the Rings Trilogy Series) section: Editorial reviews"</a>. Archived from <a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Lord-of-the-Rings-Boxed-Set/J-R-R-Tolkien/e/9780618260584#TABS">the original</a> on 10 December 2010. Retrieved 4 December 2010.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-103">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20070929155414/http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbninquiry.asp?z=y&amp;ean=9780345339706&amp;displayonly=REV">"From the Critics"</a>. Archived from <a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbninquiry.asp?z=y&amp;ean=9780345339706&amp;displayonly=REV">the original</a> on 29 September 2007. Retrieved 30 May 2006.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-104">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/W._H._Auden">Auden, W. H.</a> (22 January 1956). <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1956/01/22/books/tolkien-king.html">"At the End of the Quest, Victory"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110220002634/http://www.nytimes.com/1956/01/22/books/tolkien-king.html">Archived</a> from the original on 20 February 2011. Retrieved 4 December 2010.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-105">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://fancyclopedia.org/ken-slater">"Ken Slater"</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20191030144502/http://fancyclopedia.org/ken-slater">Archived</a> from the original on 30 October 2019. Retrieved 19 November 2019.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Lobdell_2013_in_Drout_107-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Jared_Lobdell">Lobdell, Jared</a> (2013) [2007]. "Criticism of Tolkien, Twentieth Century". In Drout, Michael D. C. (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia">J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia</a></i>. <a href="/wiki/Routledge">Routledge</a>. pp. 109–110. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-96942-0"><bdi>978-0-415-96942-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Wilson_1956_108-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Edmund_Wilson">Wilson, Edmund</a> (14 April 1956). <a href="http://jrrvf.com/sda/critiques/The_Nation.html">"Oo, Those Awful Orcs! A review of The Fellowship of the Ring"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Nation">The Nation</a></i>. Retrieved 1 September 2012.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-109">^</a></b> <cite>Derek Bailey (Director) and <a href="/wiki/Judi_Dench">Judi Dench</a> (Narrator) (1992). <i>A Film Portrait of J. R. R. Tolkien</i> (Television documentary). Visual Corporation.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-110">^</a></b> Dyson's actual comment, <a href="/wiki/Bowdlerized">bowdlerized</a> in the TV version, was "Not another fucking Elf!" <cite>Grovier, Kelly (29 April 2007). <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2007/apr/29/jrrtolkien.fiction">"In the Name of the Father"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Observer">The Observer</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20131002212305/http://www.theguardian.com/books/2007/apr/29/jrrtolkien.fiction">Archived</a> from the original on 2 October 2013. Retrieved 4 December 2010.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-111">^</a></b> <a href="/wiki/C._S._Lewis">C. S. Lewis</a>, quoted in <a href="/wiki/Christina_Scull">Christina Scull</a> &amp; <a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Wayne Hammond</a> (2006), <i><a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Companion_and_Guide">The J. R. R. Tolkien Companion and Guide</a></i>, HarperCollins, article 'The Lord of the Rings', § Reviews, p. 549; <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-618-39113-4">978-0-618-39113-4</a>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-112">^</a></b> <cite>Shulevitz, Judith (22 April 2001). <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/books/01/04/22/bookend/bookend.html">"Hobbits in Hollywood"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_York_Times">The New York Times</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20090409163022/http://www.nytimes.com/books/01/04/22/bookend/bookend.html">Archived</a> from the original on 9 April 2009. Retrieved 13 May 2006.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-113">^</a></b> <cite>Jenkyns, Richard (28 January 2002). <a href="http://www.tnr.com/article/bored-the-rings">"Bored of the Rings"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_Republic">The New Republic</a></i>. Retrieved 13 February 2011.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-114">^</a></b> <cite>Brin, David (December 2002). <a href="https://archive.today/20060323053147/http://www.davidbrin.com/tolkienarticle1.html">"We Hobbits are a Merry Folk: an incautious and heretical re-appraisal of J. R. R. Tolkien"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Salon_Magazine">Salon Magazine</a></i>. Archived from <a href="http://www.davidbrin.com/tolkienarticle1.html">the original</a> on 23 March 2006. Retrieved 9 January 2006.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Shippey_2005_critics_116-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Shippey, Tom</a> (2005) [1982]. <i>The Road to Middle-earth</i> (Third ed.). HarperCollins. pp. 1–6, 260–261, and passim. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-261-10275-0"><bdi>978-0-261-10275-0</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-Rosebury_2003_117-0">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Brian_Rosebury">Rosebury, Brian</a> (2003) [1992]. <i><a href="/wiki/Tolkien:_A_Cultural_Phenomenon">Tolkien: A Cultural Phenomenon</a></i>. Palgrave. pp. 71–88. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1403-91263-3"><bdi>978-1403-91263-3</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-121">^</a></b> <cite>O'Hehir, Andrew (4 June 2001). <a href="http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2001/06/04/tolkien/">"The book of the century"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Salon.com">Salon</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060213000712/http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2001/06/04/tolkien/">Archived</a> from the original on 13 February 2006. Retrieved 12 March 2006.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-124">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://genome.ch.bbc.co.uk/schedules/radio4/fm/1981-03-08#at-12.00">"Genome BETA Radio Times 1923 – 2009"</a>. <a href="/wiki/BBC">BBC</a>. 1981. Retrieved 24 August 2020. <q>12.00: The Lord of the Rings: 1: The Long Awaited Party by J. R. R. Tolkien prepared for radio in 26 episodes by Brian Sibley Starring Ian Holm as Frodo and Michael Hordern as Gandalf</q></cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-TolkienEncyl2006_15_125-0">^</a></b> <a href="#CITEREFDrout2006">Drout 2006</a>, p. 15
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-126">^</a></b> See also interview in "Show" magazine vol. 1, Number 1 1970
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-129">^</a></b> <cite><a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2002/SHOWBIZ/Movies/03/28/rings.beatles/index.html">"Beatles plan for Rings film"</a>. <i>CNN</i>. 28 March 2002. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20020409143012/http://edition.cnn.com/2002/SHOWBIZ/Movies/03/28/rings.beatles/index.html">Archived</a> from the original on 9 April 2002.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-130">^</a></b> Taylor, Patrick (19 January 2014). <a href="https://oneroomwithaview.com/2014/01/19/best-films-never-made-8-john-boormans-the-lord-of-the-rings/">Best Films Never Made #8: John Boorman's The Lord of the Rings."</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20181216210924/https://oneroomwithaview.com/2014/01/19/best-films-never-made-8-john-boormans-the-lord-of-the-rings/">Archived</a> 16 December 2018 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a> <i>OneRoomWithaView.com</i>. Retrieved 16 December 2018.
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-131">^</a></b> <i>K-Special</i>, "<a href="http://www.svtplay.se/video/4364349/i-trollkarlens-hatt/i-trollkarlens-hatt-avsnitt-1">I trollkarlens hatt</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20151027005737/http://www.svtplay.se/video/4364349/i-trollkarlens-hatt/i-trollkarlens-hatt-avsnitt-1">Archived</a> 2015-10-27 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a>" (at 24m30s), <a href="/wiki/Sveriges_television">Sveriges television</a>, 23 October 2015. Retrieved 26 October 2015.
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-133">^</a></b> <cite>Cassady, Charles (9 July 2010). <a href="https://www.commonsensemedia.org/movie-reviews/the-return-of-the-king-1980">"The Return of the King (1980)"</a>. <i>commonsensemedia.org</i>. Retrieved 2 August 2020.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-135">^</a></b> <cite>"Yle teettää oman sovituksen Taru sormusten herrasta-sadusta" [Yle to produce its own version of the tale of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>]. <i><a href="/wiki/Helsingin_Sanomat">Helsingin Sanomat</a></i> (in Finnish). 18 June 1991.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-138">^</a></b> <i>The Return of the King</i> peak positions
<ul><li>U.S. and Canada: <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20040604193553/https://www.boxofficemojo.com/alltime/domestic.htm">"All Time Domestic Box Office"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Box_Office_Mojo">Box Office Mojo</a></i>. Archived from <a href="https://www.boxofficemojo.com/alltime/domestic/">the original</a> on 4 June 2004.</cite></li>
<li>Worldwide: <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20040605104640/http://www.boxofficemojo.com/alltime/world/">"All Time Worldwide Box Office"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/Box_Office_Mojo">Box Office Mojo</a></i>. Archived from <a href="https://www.boxofficemojo.com/alltime/world/">the original</a> on 5 June 2004.</cite></li></ul>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-146">^</a></b> <cite>Inglis, Rob (narrator) (1990). <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>. Recorded Books. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/1-4025-1627-4"><bdi>1-4025-1627-4</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-158">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20060907074051/http://www.miyamotoshrine.com/theman/interviews/230403.shtml">"Shigeru Miyamoto Interview"</a>. <i>Super PLAY</i> (in Swedish). Medströms Dataförlag AB (4/03). March 2003. Archived from <a href="http://www.miyamotoshrine.com/theman/interviews/230403.shtml">the original</a> on 7 September 2006. Retrieved 24 September 2006. <q>All ideas for The legend of Zelda were mine and Takashi Tezukas... ...Books, movies and our own lives.</q></cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-163">^</a></b> Tolkien had recorded a version of his theme on a friend's tape recorder in 1952. This was later issued by <a href="/wiki/Caedmon_Records">Caedmon Records</a> in 1975 as part of <i>J. R. R. Tolkien reads and sings The Lord of the Rings</i> (LP recording TC1478).
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-164">^</a></b> <cite>Tolkien, J. R. R.; <a href="/wiki/Donald_Swann">Swann, Donald</a> (1967). <a href="/wiki/The_Road_Goes_Ever_On"><i></i>The Road Goes Ever On: A Song Cycle<i></i></a>. <a href="/wiki/Ballantine_Books">Ballantine Books</a>.</cite>
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<li>^ <a href="#cite_ref-Snider_166-0"><sup><i><b>a</b></i></sup></a> <a href="#cite_ref-Snider_166-1"><sup><i><b>b</b></i></sup></a> <cite>Snider, Charles (2008). <i>The Strawberry Bricks Guide to Progressive Rock</i>. Strawberry Bricks. pp. 120–121. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-615-17566-9"><bdi>978-0-615-17566-9</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-168">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://www.rundel.de/en/the_lord_of_the_rings/a-107/3572">"The Lord of the Rings Der Herr der Ringe Symphony No. 1 Sinfonie Nr. 1"</a>. Rundel. Retrieved 2 August 2020.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-170">^</a></b> <cite>Feist, Raymond (2001). <i>Meditations on Middle-earth</i>. <a href="/wiki/St._Martin%27s_Press">St. Martin's Press</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-312-30290-8"><bdi>0-312-30290-8</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-171">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Humphrey_Carpenter">Carpenter, Humphrey</a> (2000). <i></i>J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography<i></i>. <a href="/wiki/Houghton_Mifflin_Harcourt">Houghton Mifflin Harcourt</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-618-05702-1"><bdi>0-618-05702-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-172">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Peter_Gilliver">Gilliver, Peter</a> (2006). <a href="https://archive.org/details/ringofwordstolki00gill"><i>The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary</i></a>. Oxford University Press. pp. 174, 201–206. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0-19-861069-6"><bdi>0-19-861069-6</bdi></a>.</cite>
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<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-173">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/David_Bratman">Bratman, David</a> (2013) [2007]. "Parodies". In <a href="/wiki/Michael_D._C._Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (ed.). <i><a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia">The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia</a></i>. <a href="/wiki/Routledge">Routledge</a>. pp. 503–504. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-86511-1"><bdi>978-0-415-86511-1</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-174">^</a></b> <cite><a href="https://archive.today/20120914165119/http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/news/article-812509-tolkien-sold-film-rights-for-10000.do">"Tolkien sold film rights for £10,000"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/London_Evening_Standard">London Evening Standard</a></i>. 12 July 2001. Archived from <a href="http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/news/article-812509-tolkien-sold-film-rights-for-10000.do">the original</a> on 14 September 2012. Retrieved 20 November 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-175">^</a></b> <cite>Pulley, Brett (15 July 2009). <a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=newsarchive&amp;sid=aiAEIATGLREU">"'Hobbit' Heirs Seek $220 Million for 'Rings' Rights (Update1)"</a>. <a href="/wiki/Bloomberg_L.P.">Bloomberg</a>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20120802173616/http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=newsarchive&amp;sid=aiAEIATGLREU">Archived</a> from the original on 2 August 2012. Retrieved 20 November 2011.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-176">^</a></b> <cite>Harlow, John (28 May 2008). <a href="https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/hobbit-movies-meet-dire-foe-in-son-of-tolkien-lxnpmnsd2rp">"Hobbit movies meet dire foe in son of Tolkien"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Times">The Times</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20110615224143/http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/film/article3999008.ece">Archived</a> from the original on 15 June 2011. Retrieved 19 January 2022.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-177">^</a></b> <cite>Mathijs, Ernest (2006). <i>The Lord of the Rings: Popular Culture in Global Context</i>. <a href="/wiki/Wallflower_Press">Wallflower Press</a>. p. 25. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-1-904764-82-3"><bdi>978-1-904764-82-3</bdi></a>.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-178">^</a></b> <cite>Carmel, Julia (15 February 2020). <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/15/books/barbara-remington-dead.html">"Barbara Remington, Illustrator of Tolkien Book Covers, Dies at 90"</a>. <i>The New York Times</i>. Retrieved 18 July 2020.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-179">^</a></b> <cite>Ezard, John (15 December 2003). <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/media/2003/dec/15/bbc.books">"Tolkien runs rings round Big Read rivals"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/The_Guardian">The Guardian</a></i>. Retrieved 3 August 2020.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-180">^</a></b> <cite>Ciabattari, Jane (7 December 2015). <a href="http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20151204-the-100-greatest-british-novels">"The 100 greatest British novels"</a>. <i><a href="/wiki/BBC">BBC</a></i>. <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20151208170427/http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20151204-the-100-greatest-british-novels">Archived</a> from the original on 8 December 2015. Retrieved 8 December 2015.</cite>
</li>
<li><b><a href="#cite_ref-181">^</a></b> <cite><a href="/wiki/Josyane_Savigneau">Savigneau, Josyane</a> (15 October 1999). <a href="https://archive.today/20120527083227/http://www.lemonde.fr/cgi-bin/ACHATS/acheter.cgi?offre=ARCHIVES&amp;type_item=ART_ARCH_30J&amp;objet_id=46796">"Écrivains et choix sentimentaux"</a> [Authors and sentimental choices]. <i>Le Monde</i> (in French). Archived from <a href="http://www.lemonde.fr/cgi-bin/ACHATS/acheter.cgi?offre=ARCHIVES&amp;type_item=ART_ARCH_30J&amp;objet_id=46796">the original</a> on 27 May 2012.</cite>
</li>
</ol></div>
<h2>Sources[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=33">edit</a>]</h2>
<ul><li><cite><a href="/wiki/Humphrey_Carpenter">Carpenter, Humphrey</a> (1977). <i><a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien:_A_Biography">J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography</a></i>. New York: <a href="/wiki/Ballantine_Books">Ballantine Books</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-04-928037-3"><bdi>978-0-04-928037-3</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Humphrey_Carpenter">Carpenter, Humphrey</a>, ed. (1981). <i><a href="/wiki/The_Letters_of_J._R._R._Tolkien">The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien</a></i>. Boston: <a href="/wiki/Houghton_Mifflin">Houghton Mifflin</a>. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-395-31555-2"><bdi>978-0-395-31555-2</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Michael_Drout">Drout, Michael D. C.</a> (2006). <a href="/wiki/The_J._R._R._Tolkien_Encyclopedia"><i>The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia</i></a>. Routledge. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-415-96942-0"><bdi>978-0-415-96942-0</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/Wayne_G._Hammond">Hammond, Wayne G.</a>; <a href="/wiki/Christina_Scull">Scull, Christina</a> (2005). <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_A_Reader%27s_Companion"><i>The Lord of the Rings: A Reader's Companion</i></a>. Houghton Mifflin Co. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-00-720907-1"><bdi>978-0-00-720907-1</bdi></a>.</cite></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Tolkien, Christopher</a> (ed.) (1988–1992). <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">The History of The Lord of the Rings</a></i>, 4 vols.</li>
<li><cite><a href="/wiki/J._R._R._Tolkien">Tolkien, J. R. R.</a> (1997). <i><a href="/wiki/The_Monsters_and_the_Critics,_and_Other_Essays">The Monsters and the Critics, and Other Essays</a></i>. HarperCollins. <a href="/wiki/ISBN_(identifier)">ISBN</a> <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/978-0-261-10263-7"><bdi>978-0-261-10263-7</bdi></a>.</cite></li></ul>
<h2>External links[<a href="/w/index.php?title=The_Lord_of_the_Rings&amp;action=edit&amp;section=34">edit</a>]</h2>
<ul><li><a href="http://www.tolkien.co.uk/">Tolkien website of Harper Collins</a> (the British publisher)</li>
<li><a href="http://www.houghtonmifflinbooks.com/features/lordoftheringstrilogy/">Tolkien website of Houghton Mifflin</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210424073011/http://www.houghtonmifflinbooks.com/features/lordoftheringstrilogy/">Archived</a> 24 April 2021 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a> (the American publisher)</li>
<li><a href="http://sf-encyclopedia.uk/fe.php?nm=lord_of_the_rings_the">Lord of the Rings, The</a> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20210602215349/http://sf-encyclopedia.uk/fe.php?nm=lord_of_the_rings_the">Archived</a> 2 June 2021 at the <a href="/wiki/Wayback_Machine">Wayback Machine</a> at the <a href="/wiki/The_Encyclopedia_of_Fantasy">Encyclopedia of Fantasy</a></li></ul>
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 Contents

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 * (Top)
 * 1 Plot
 + 1.1 The Fellowship of the Ring
 + 1.2 Prologue
 + 1.3 Book I: The Ring Sets Out
 + 1.4 Book II: The Ring Goes South
 + 1.5 The Two Towers
 + 1.6 Book III: The Treason of Isengard
 + 1.7 Book IV: The Ring Goes East
 + 1.8 The Return of the King
 + 1.9 Book V: The War of the Ring
 + 1.10 Book VI: The End of the Third Age
 + 1.11 Appendices
 + 1.12 Frame story
 * 2 Concept and creation
 + 2.1 Background
 + 2.2 Writing
 + 2.3 Poetry
 + 2.4 Illustrations
 + 2.5 Influences
 + 2.6 Themes
 * 3 Publication history
 + 3.1 Editions and revisions
 + 3.2 Posthumous publication of drafts
 + 3.3 Translations
 * 4 Reception
 + 4.1 1950s
 + 4.2 Later
 + 4.3 Awards
 * 5 Adaptations
 + 5.1 Radio
 + 5.2 Film and television
 + 5.3 Audiobooks
 * 6 Legacy
 + 6.1 Influence on fantasy
 + 6.2 Music
 + 6.3 Impact on popular culture
 * 7 Notes
 * 8 References
 + 8.1 Primary
 + 8.2 Secondary
 * 9 Sources
 * 10 External links
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 The Lord of the Rings

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 From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 This article is about the book. For other uses, see The Lord of the Rings (disambiguation).
 "War of the Ring" redirects here. For other uses, see War of the Ring (disambiguation).

 The Lord of the Rings
 The first single-volume edition (1968)
 Author J. R. R. Tolkien 
 Country United Kingdom 
 Language English 
 Genre * High fantasy 
 * Adventure 
 Set in Middle-earth 
 Publisher Allen & Unwin 
 * 29 July 1954 (The Fellowship of the Ring)
 Publication date * 11 November 1954 (The Two Towers) 
 * 20 October 1955 (The Return of the King) 
 Media type Print (hardback & paperback) 
 OCLC 1487587 
 Preceded by The Hobbit 
 Followed by The Adventures of Tom Bombadil 
 

 The Lord of the Rings is an epic[1] high-fantasy novel[a] by English author and scholar J. R. R. Tolkien. Set in Middle-earth, the story began as a sequel to Tolkien's 1937 children's book The Hobbit, but eventually developed into a much larger work. Written in stages between 1937 and 1949, The Lord of the Rings is one of the best-selling books ever written, with over 150 million copies sold.[2]

 The title refers to the story's main antagonist,[b] the Dark Lord Sauron, who, in an earlier age, created the One Ring to rule the other Rings of Power given to Men, Dwarves, and Elves, in his campaign to conquer all of Middle-earth. From homely beginnings in the Shire, a hobbit land reminiscent of the English countryside, the story ranges across Middle-earth, following the quest to destroy the One Ring mainly through the eyes of the hobbits Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin.

 Although often called a trilogy, the work was intended by Tolkien to be one volume of a two-volume set along with The Silmarillion.[3][T 3] For economic reasons, The Lord of the Rings was published over the course of a year from 29 July 1954 to 20 October 1955 in three volumes[3][4] titled The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King. The work is divided internally into six books, two per volume, with several appendices of background material. Some later editions print the entire work in a single volume, following the author's original intent.

 Tolkien's work, after an initially mixed reception by the literary establishment, has been the subject of extensive analysis of its themes and origins. Influences on this earlier work, and on the story of The Lord of the Rings, include philology, mythology, Christianity, earlier fantasy works, and his own experiences in the First World War.

 The Lord of the Rings is considered one of the greatest fantasy books ever written and it has helped to create and shape the modern fantasy genre. Since release, it has since been reprinted many times and translated into at least 38 languages.[c] Its enduring popularity has led to numerous references in popular culture, the founding of many societies by fans of Tolkien's works,[5] and the publication of many books about Tolkien and his works. It has inspired many derivative works, including paintings, music, films, television, video games, and board games.

 Award-winning adaptations of The Lord of the Rings have been made for radio, theatre, and film. It has been named Britain's best-loved novel of all time in the BBC's 2003 poll The Big Read.

 Plot [ edit ]

 The Fellowship of the Ring [ edit ]

 Main article: The Fellowship of the Ring

 Prologue [ edit ]

 The prologue explains that the work is "largely concerned with hobbits", telling of their origins in a migration from the east, their habits such as smoking "pipe-weed", and how their homeland the Shire is organised. It explains how the narrative follows on from The Hobbit, in which the hobbit Bilbo Baggins finds the One Ring, which had been in the possession of Gollum.

 Book I: The Ring Sets Out [ edit ]

 Gandalf proves that Frodo's Ring is the One Ring by throwing it into Frodo's fireplace, revealing the hidden text of the Rhyme of the Rings.

 Bilbo celebrates his eleventy-first (111th) birthday and leaves the Shire suddenly, passing the Ring to Frodo Baggins, his cousin[d] and heir. Neither hobbit is aware of the Ring's origin, but the wizard Gandalf suspects it is a Ring of Power. Seventeen years later, Gandalf tells Frodo that he has confirmed that the Ring is the one lost by the Dark Lord Sauron long ago and counsels him to take it away from the Shire. Gandalf leaves, promising to return by Frodo's birthday and accompany him on his journey, but fails to do so.

 Frodo sets out on foot, offering a cover story of moving to Crickhollow, accompanied by his gardener Sam Gamgee and his cousin Pippin Took. They are pursued by mysterious Black Riders, but meet a passing group of Elves led by Gildor Inglorion, whose chants to Elbereth ward off the Riders. The hobbits spend the night with them, then take an evasive short cut the next day, and arrive at the farm of Farmer Maggot, who takes them to Bucklebury Ferry, where they meet their friend Merry Brandybuck. When they reach the house at Crickhollow, Merry and Pippin reveal they know about the Ring and insist on travelling with Frodo and Sam.

 They decide to try to shake off the Black Riders by cutting through the Old Forest. Merry and Pippin are trapped by Old Man Willow, an ancient tree who controls much of the forest, but are rescued by Tom Bombadil. Leaving the refuge of Tom's house, they get lost in a fog and are caught by a barrow-wight in a barrow on the downs, but Frodo, awakening from the barrow-wight's spell, calls Tom Bombadil, who frees them, and equips them with ancient swords from the barrow-wight's hoard.

 The hobbits reach the village of Bree, where they encounter a Ranger named Strider. The innkeeper gives Frodo a letter from Gandalf written three months before which identifies Strider as a friend. Knowing the riders will attempt to seize the party, Strider cunningly avoids their attack and leads the hobbits through the wilderness toward the Elven sanctuary of Rivendell. On the way to Rivendell, the group stops at the hill Weathertop. Strider identifies the riders as the Nazgûl, men from ancient times enslaved by lesser Rings of Power to serve Sauron. While at Weathertop, they are again attacked by five of the nine Black Riders. During the struggle, the Lord of the Nazgûl wounds Frodo with a cursed blade. After fighting off the Nazgûl, Strider treats Frodo with the herb athelas, and is joined by the elf Glorfindel who has been searching for the party. Glorfindel rides with Frodo, now deathly ill, toward Rivendell. The Nazgûl nearly capture Frodo at the Ford of Bruinen, but upon attempting to cross the ford, flood waters summoned by Elrond and Gandalf rise up and overwhelm the Nazgûl.

 Book II: The Ring Goes South [ edit ]

 Frodo recovers in Rivendell under Elrond's care. The Council of Elrond discusses the history of Sauron and the Ring. Strider is revealed to be Aragorn, the heir of Isildur. Isildur had cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand in the battle ending the Second Age, but refused to destroy it, claiming it for himself. The Ring had been lost when Isildur was killed, finally ending up in Bilbo's possession after his meeting with Gollum described in The Hobbit. Gandalf reports that the chief wizard, Saruman, has betrayed them and is now working to become a power in his own right. Gandalf was captured by Saruman, but escaped, explaining why he had failed to return to meet Frodo as he had promised.

 The Council decides that the Ring must be destroyed, but that can only be done by sending it to the fire of Mount Doom in Mordor where it was forged. Frodo takes this task upon himself. Elrond, with the advice of Gandalf, chooses companions for him. The Fellowship of the Ring consists of nine walkers who set out on the quest to destroy the One Ring, in opposition to the nine Black Riders: the Hobbit and ringbearer Frodo Baggins; his gardener Sam Gamgee; the two young Hobbits Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took; the Wizard Gandalf; the elf Legolas; the dwarf Gimli; and the men Aragorn the ranger, and Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor. The Fellowship thus represents the Free Peoples of the West – Elves, Dwarves, Men, and Hobbits, assisted by a Wizard.

 After a failed attempt to cross the Misty Mountains over the Redhorn Pass, the Fellowship take the perilous path through the Mines of Moria. They learn that Balin, one of the Dwarves who accompanied Bilbo in The Hobbit, and his colony of Dwarves were killed by Orcs. After surviving an attack, they are pursued by Orcs and a Balrog, an ancient fire demon from a prior Age. Gandalf confronts the Balrog, and both of them fall into the abyss of Moria. The others escape and find refuge in the timeless Elven forest of Lothlórien, where they are counselled by the Lady Galadriel. Before they leave, Galadriel tests their loyalty, and gives them individual, magical gifts to help them on their quest. She allows Frodo and Sam to look into her fountain, the Mirror of Galadriel, to see visions of the past, the present, and perhaps the future, and she refuses to take the Ring Frodo offers her, knowing that it would master her.

 Galadriel's husband Celeborn gives the Fellowship boats, elven cloaks, and waybread (Lembas), and they travel down the River Anduin to the hill of Amon Hen. There, Boromir tries to take the Ring from Frodo, but immediately regrets it after Frodo puts on the Ring and disappears. Frodo chooses to go alone to Mordor, but Sam, guessing what he intends, intercepts him as he tries to take a boat across the river, and goes with him.

 The Two Towers [ edit ]

 Main article: The Two Towers

 Book III: The Treason of Isengard [ edit ]

 A party of large Orcs, Uruk-hai, sent by Saruman, and other Orcs sent by Sauron and led by Grishnákh, attack the Fellowship. Boromir tries to protect Merry and Pippin from the Orcs, but they kill him and capture the two hobbits. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas decide to pursue the Orcs taking Merry and Pippin to Saruman. In the kingdom of Rohan, the Orcs are killed by Riders of Rohan, led by Éomer. Merry and Pippin escape into Fangorn Forest, where they are befriended by Treebeard, the oldest of the tree-like Ents. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas track the hobbits to Fangorn. There they unexpectedly meet Gandalf.

 Gandalf explains that he killed the Balrog. He was also killed in the fight, but was sent back to Middle-earth to complete his mission. He is clothed in white and is now Gandalf the White, for he has taken Saruman's place as the chief of the wizards. Gandalf assures his friends that Merry and Pippin are safe. Together they ride to Edoras, capital of Rohan. Gandalf frees Théoden, King of Rohan, from the influence of Saruman's spy Gríma Wormtongue. Théoden musters his fighting strength and rides with his men to the ancient fortress of Helm's Deep, while Gandalf departs to seek help from Treebeard.

 Meanwhile, the Ents, roused by Merry and Pippin from their peaceful ways, attack and destroy Isengard, Saruman's stronghold, and flood it, trapping the wizard in the tower of Orthanc. Gandalf convinces Treebeard to send an army of Huorns to Théoden's aid. He brings an army of Rohirrim to Helm's Deep, and they defeat the Orcs, who flee into the forest of Huorns, never to be seen again. Gandalf, Théoden, Legolas, and Gimli ride to Isengard, and are surprised to find Merry and Pippin relaxing amidst the ruins. Gandalf offers Saruman a chance to turn away from evil. When Saruman refuses to listen, Gandalf strips him of his rank and most of his powers. After Saruman leaves, Wormtongue throws down a hard round object to try to kill Gandalf. Pippin picks it up; Gandalf swiftly takes it, but Pippin steals it in the night. It is revealed to be a palantír, a seeing-stone that Saruman used to speak with Sauron, and that Sauron used to ensnare him. Sauron sees Pippin, but misunderstands the circumstances. Gandalf immediately rides for Minas Tirith, chief city of Gondor, taking Pippin with him.

 Book IV: The Ring Goes East [ edit ]

 Frodo and Sam, heading for Mordor, struggle through the barren hills and cliffs of the Emyn Muil. They become aware they are being watched and tracked; on a moonlit night they capture Gollum, who has followed them from Moria. Frodo makes Gollum swear to serve him, as Ringbearer, and asks him to guide them to Mordor. Gollum leads them across the Dead Marshes. Sam overhears Gollum debating with his alter ego, Sméagol, whether to break his promise and steal the Ring.

 They find that the Black Gate of Mordor is too well guarded, so instead they travel south through the land of Ithilien to a secret pass that Gollum knows. On the way, they are captured by rangers led by Faramir, Boromir's brother, and brought to the secret fastness of Henneth Annûn. Faramir resists the temptation to seize the Ring and, disobeying standing orders to arrest strangers found in Ithilien, releases them.

 Gollum – who is torn between his loyalty to Frodo and his desire for the Ring – guides the hobbits to the pass, but leads them into the lair of the great spider Shelob in the tunnels of Cirith Ungol. Frodo holds up the gift given to him in Lothlórien: the Phial of Galadriel, which holds the light of Eärendil's star. The light drives Shelob back. Frodo cuts through a giant web using his sword Sting. Shelob attacks again, and Frodo falls to her venom. Sam picks up Sting and the Phial. He seriously wounds and drives off the monster. Believing Frodo to be dead, Sam takes the Ring to continue the quest alone. Orcs find Frodo; Sam overhears them and learns that Frodo is still alive, but is separated from him.

 The Return of the King [ edit ]

 Main article: The Return of the King

 Book V: The War of the Ring [ edit ]

 Sauron sends a great army against Gondor. Gandalf arrives at Minas Tirith to warn Denethor of the attack, while Théoden musters the Rohirrim to ride to Gondor's aid. Minas Tirith is besieged; the Lord of the Nazgûl uses a battering ram and the power of his Ring to destroy the city's gates. Denethor, deceived by Sauron, falls into despair. He burns himself alive on a pyre; Pippin and Gandalf rescue his son Faramir from the same fate.

 Aragorn, accompanied by Legolas, Gimli, and the Rangers of the North, takes the Paths of the Dead to recruit the Dead Men of Dunharrow, oathbreakers who are bound by an ancient curse which denies them rest until they fulfil their oath to fight for the King of Gondor. Aragorn unleashes the Army of the Dead on the Corsairs of Umbar invading southern Gondor. With that threat eliminated, Aragorn uses the Corsairs' ships to transport the men of southern Gondor up the Anduin, reaching Minas Tirith just in time to turn the tide of battle. Théoden's niece Éowyn, who joined the army in disguise, kills the Lord of the Nazgûl with help from Merry; both are wounded. Together, Gondor and Rohan defeat Sauron's army in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, though at great cost; Théoden is among the dead.

 Aragorn enters Minas Tirith and heals Faramir, Éowyn, and Merry. He leads an army of men from Gondor and Rohan, marching through Ithilien to the Black Gate to distract Sauron from his true danger. At the Battle of the Morannon, his army is vastly outnumbered.

 Book VI: The End of the Third Age [ edit ]

 Meanwhile, Sam rescues Frodo from the tower of Cirith Ungol. They set out across Mordor. When they reach the edge of the Cracks of Doom, Frodo cannot resist the Ring any longer. He claims it for himself and puts it on. Gollum suddenly reappears. He struggles with Frodo and bites off Frodo's finger with the Ring still on it. Celebrating wildly, Gollum loses his footing and falls into the Fire, taking the Ring with him. When the Ring is destroyed, Sauron loses his power forever. All he created collapses, the Nazgûl perish, and his armies are thrown into such disarray that Aragorn's forces emerge victorious.

 Aragorn is crowned King of Arnor and Gondor, and weds Arwen, daughter of Elrond. Théoden is buried and Éomer is crowned King of Rohan. His sister Éowyn is engaged to marry Faramir, now Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien. Galadriel, Celeborn, and Gandalf meet and say farewell to Treebeard, and to Aragorn.

 The four hobbits make their way back to the Shire, only to find that it has been taken over by men directed by "Sharkey" (whom they later discover to be Saruman). The hobbits, led by Merry, raise a rebellion and scour the Shire of Sharkey's evil. Gríma Wormtongue turns on Saruman and kills him in front of Bag End, Frodo's home. He is killed in turn by hobbit archers. Merry and Pippin are celebrated as heroes. Sam marries Rosie Cotton and uses his gifts from Galadriel to help heal the Shire. But Frodo is still wounded in body and spirit, having borne the Ring for so long. A few years later, in the company of Bilbo and Gandalf, Frodo sails from the Grey Havens west over the Sea to the Undying Lands to find peace.

 Appendices [ edit ]

 The appendices outline more details of the history, cultures, genealogies, and languages that Tolkien imagined for the peoples of Middle-earth. They provide background details for the narrative, with much detail for Tolkien fans who want to know more about the stories.

 Appendix A: "Annals of the Kings and Rulers" Provides extensive background to the larger world of Middle-earth, with brief overviews of the events of the first two Ages of the world, and then more detailed histories of the nations of Men in Gondor and Rohan, as well as a history of the royal Dwarvish line of Durin during the Third Age.
 The embedded "Tale of Aragorn and Arwen" tells how it happened that an immortal elf came to marry a man, as told in the main story, which Arwen's ancestor Lúthien had done in the First Age, giving up her immortality. Appendix B: "The Tale of Years" (Chronology of the Westlands) It is a timeline of events throughout the series, and ancient events affecting the narrative, and in lesser detail, it gives the stories' context in the fictional chronology of the larger mythology.
 It also tells that Sam gives his daughter Elanor the fictional Red Book of Westmarch – which contains the autobiographical stories of Bilbo's adventures at the opening of the war, and Frodo's role in the full-on War of the Ring, and serves as Tolkien's source for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings (with Tolkien representing himself as a translator, rather than an epic novelist). It says that there was "a tradition" that after handing over the book, Sam crossed west over the sea himself, the last of the ring-bearers; and that some years later, after the deaths of Aragorn and Arwen, Legolas and Gimli also sailed together "over Sea". Appendix C: "Family Trees" (Hobbits) Gives hobbit genealogies – not only for Bilbo and Frodo's Baggins family, but also their relations the Tooks and Brandybucks, which connect them to Pippin and Merry. Appendix D: "Calendars" Describes some of the calendars used by the characters in the story, and explains that the Roman month names in the text are "translations" of the names in the hobbits' calendar. (Tolkien was a linguist, and provided Germanic-sounding names for the hobbit calendar by extrapolating names of German and Old English months forward to what he thought they might have become if all were still used in modern English, as Yule and Easter are.) Appendix E: "Writing and Spelling" Describes dwarves’ runes and the elvish runes use by the other peoples of Middle-earth; the names of the runes and letters incidentally give a bit of information about dwarvish and elvish languages. Appendix F: "Languages and Peoples of the Third Age" and "On Translation" Presented as two sections. In addition to outlines of the various languages in current use during the narrative, and mentioned or seen in the story, it discusses hobbits' names at length. It sorts out names which Tolkien affected to have translated into English, and names which said he had left in original form (since they had no meaning in hobbits' everyday language).

 Frame story [ edit ]

 Further information: Tolkien's frame stories

 Tolkien presents The Lord of the Rings within a fictional frame story where he is not the original author, but merely the translator of part of an ancient document, the Red Book of Westmarch.[6] That book is modelled on the real Red Book of Hergest, which similarly presents an older mythology. Various details of the frame story appear in the Prologue, its "Note on Shire Records", and in the Appendices, notably Appendix F. In this frame story, the Red Book is the purported source of Tolkien's other works relating to Middle-earth: The Hobbit, The Silmarillion, and The Adventures of Tom Bombadil.[7]

 Concept and creation [ edit ]

 Background [ edit ]

 Further information: Tolkien's legendarium

 Although a major work in itself, The Lord of the Rings was only the last movement of a much older set of narratives Tolkien had worked on since 1917 encompassing The Silmarillion,[8] in a process he described as mythopoeia.[e]

 The Lord of the Rings started as a sequel to Tolkien's work The Hobbit, published in 1937.[10] The popularity of The Hobbit had led George Allen & Unwin, the publishers, to request a sequel. Tolkien warned them that he wrote quite slowly, and responded with several stories he had already developed. Having rejected his contemporary drafts for The Silmarillion, putting Roverandom on hold, and accepting Farmer Giles of Ham, Allen & Unwin continued to ask for more stories about hobbits.[11]

 Writing [ edit ]

 Further information: J. R. R. Tolkien

 Persuaded by his publishers, he started "a new Hobbit" in December 1937.[10] After several false starts, the story of the One Ring emerged. The idea for the first chapter ("A Long-Expected Party") arrived fully formed, although the reasons behind Bilbo's disappearance, the significance of the Ring, and the title The Lord of the Rings did not come until the spring of 1938.[10] Originally, he planned to write a story in which Bilbo had used up all his treasure and was looking for another adventure to gain more; however, he remembered the Ring and its powers and thought that would be a better focus for the new work.[10] As the story progressed, he brought in elements from The Silmarillion mythology.[12]

 Writing was slow, because Tolkien had a full-time academic position, marked exams to bring in a little extra income, and wrote many drafts.[10][T 4] Tolkien abandoned The Lord of the Rings during most of 1943 and only restarted it in April 1944,[10] as a serial for his son Christopher Tolkien, who was sent chapters as they were written while he was serving in South Africa with the Royal Air Force. Tolkien made another major effort in 1946, and showed the manuscript to his publishers in 1947.[10] The story was effectively finished the next year, but Tolkien did not complete the revision of earlier parts of the work until 1949.[10] The original manuscripts, which total 9,250 pages, now reside in the J. R. R. Tolkien Collection at Marquette University.[13]

 Poetry [ edit ]

 Main article: Poetry in The Lord of the Rings

 Unusually for 20th century novels, the prose narrative is supplemented throughout by over 60 pieces of poetry. These include verse and songs of many genres: for wandering, marching to war, drinking, and having a bath; narrating ancient myths, riddles, prophecies, and magical incantations; and of praise and lament (elegy).[14] Some, such as riddles, charms, elegies, and narrating heroic actions are found in Old English poetry.[14] Scholars have stated that the poetry is essential for the fiction to work aesthetically and thematically, as it adds information not given in the prose, and it brings out characters and their backgrounds.[15][16] The poetry has been judged to be of high technical skill, reflected in Tolkien's prose; for instance, he wrote much of Tom Bombadil's speech in metre.[17]

 Illustrations [ edit ]

 Main articles: Tolkien's artwork, Tolkien's maps, and Tolkien's scripts
 Tolkien's calligraphy of the Rhyme of the Rings was one of the few illustrations in the first edition. It is written in the Black Speech of Mordor using the Tengwar script.

 Tolkien worked on the text using his maps of Middle-earth as a guide, to ensure the elements of the story fitted together in time and space.[T 5] He prepared a variety of types of illustration – maps, calligraphy, drawings, cover designs, even a facsimile painting of the Book of Mazarbul – but only the maps, the inscription on the Ring, and a drawing of the Doors of Durin were included in the first edition.[18][T 6]

 The hardback editions sometimes had cover illustrations by Tolkien,[f] sometimes by other artists. According to The New York Times, Barbara Remington's cover designs for Ballantine's paperback editions "achieved mass-cult status in the 1960s, particularly on college campuses" across America.[19]

 Influences [ edit ]

 Main article: J. R. R. Tolkien's influences
 Beowulf ' s eotenas [ond] ylfe [ond] orcneas, "ogres [and] elves [and] devil-corpses" helped to inspire Tolkien to create the Orcs and Elves of Middle-earth.[20]

 Tolkien drew on a wide array of influences including language,[T 7] Christianity,[T 8] mythology and Germanic heroic legend including the Norse Völsunga saga,[21] archaeology, especially at the Temple of Nodens,[22] ancient and modern literature, like Finnish 19th-century epic poetry The Kalevala by Elias Lönnrot,[23] and personal experience. He was inspired primarily by his profession, philology;[T 9] his work centred on the study of Old English literature, especially Beowulf, and he acknowledged its importance to his writings.[20] He was a gifted linguist, influenced by Celtic,[24][21] Finnish,[25] Slavic,[26] and Greek language and mythology.[27] Commentators have attempted to identify literary and topological antecedents for characters, places and events in Tolkien's writings; he acknowledged that he had enjoyed adventure stories by authors such as John Buchan and Rider Haggard.[28][29][30] The Arts and Crafts polymath William Morris was a major influence,[T 10] and Tolkien undoubtedly made use of some real place-names, such as Bag End, the name of his aunt's home.[31] Tolkien stated, too, that he had been influenced by his childhood experiences of the English countryside of Worcestershire near Sarehole Mill, and its urbanisation by the growth of Birmingham,[T 11] and his personal experience of fighting in the trenches of the First World War.[32] Moreover, the militarization and industrialization inspired the character of Sauron and his forces. The Orcs represented the worst of it as workers that have been tortured and brutalized by the war and industry.[33]

 Themes [ edit ]

 Main article: Themes of The Lord of the Rings

 Scholars and critics have identified many themes in the book with its complex interlaced narrative, including a reversed quest,[34][35] the struggle of good and evil,[36] death and immortality,[37] fate and free will,[38] the addictive danger of power,[39] and various aspects of Christianity such as the presence of three Christ figures, for prophet, priest, and king, as well as elements like hope and redemptive suffering.[40][41][42][43] There is a common theme throughout the work of language, its sound, and its relationship to peoples and places, along with hints of providence in descriptions of weather and landscape.[44] Out of these, Tolkien stated that the central theme is death and immortality.[T 12] To those who supposed that the book was an allegory of events in the 20th century, Tolkien replied in the foreword to the Second Edition that it was not, saying he preferred "history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers."

 Some commentators have criticized the book for being a story about men for boys, with no significant women; or about a purely rural world with no bearing on modern life in cities; of containing no sign of religion; or of racism. Other commentators responded by noting that there are three powerful women in the book, Galadriel, Éowyn, and Arwen; that life, even in rural Hobbiton, is not idealised; that Christianity is a pervasive theme; and that Tolkien was sharply anti-racist both in peacetime and during the Second World War, while Middle-earth is evidently polycultural.[45][46][47]

 Publication history [ edit ]

 A dispute with his publisher, George Allen & Unwin, led Tolkien to offer the work to William Collins in 1950. Tolkien intended The Silmarillion (itself largely unrevised at this point) to be published along with The Lord of the Rings, but Allen & Unwin were unwilling to do this. After Milton Waldman, his contact at Collins, expressed the belief that The Lord of the Rings itself "urgently wanted cutting", Tolkien eventually demanded that they publish the book in 1952.[48] Collins did not; and so Tolkien wrote to Allen and Unwin, saying, "I would gladly consider the publication of any part of the stuff", fearing his work would never see the light of day.[10]

 For publication, the work was divided into three volumes to minimize any potential financial loss due to the high cost of type-setting and modest anticipated sales: The Fellowship of the Ring (Books I and II), The Two Towers (Books III and IV), and The Return of the King (Books V and VI plus six appendices).[49] Delays in producing appendices, maps and especially an index led to the volumes being published later than originally hoped – on 29 July 1954, on 11 November 1954 and on 20 October 1955 respectively in the United Kingdom.[50] In the United States, Houghton Mifflin published The Fellowship of the Ring on 21 October 1954, The Two Towers on 21 April 1955, and The Return of the King on 5 January 1956.[51]

 The Return of the King was especially delayed as Tolkien revised the ending and prepared appendices (some of which had to be left out because of space constraints). Tolkien did not like the title The Return of the King, believing it gave away too much of the storyline, but deferred to his publisher's preference.[52] Tolkien wrote that the title The Two Towers "can be left ambiguous",[T 13] but considered naming the two as Orthanc and Barad-dûr, Minas Tirith and Barad-dûr, or Orthanc and the Tower of Cirith Ungol.[T 14] However, a month later he wrote a note published at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring and later drew a cover illustration, both of which identified the pair as Minas Morgul and Orthanc.[53][54]

 Tolkien was initially opposed to titles being given to each two-book volume, preferring instead the use of book titles: e.g. The Lord of the Rings: Vol. 1, The Ring Sets Out and The Ring Goes South; Vol. 2, The Treason of Isengard and The Ring Goes East; Vol. 3, The War of the Ring and The End of the Third Age. However, these individual book titles were dropped, and after pressure from his publishers, Tolkien suggested the volume titles: Vol. 1, The Shadow Grows; Vol. 2, The Ring in the Shadow; Vol. 3, The War of the Ring or The Return of the King.[55][56]

 Because the three-volume binding was so widely distributed, the work is often referred to as the Lord of the Rings "trilogy". In a letter to the poet W. H. Auden, who famously reviewed the final volume in 1956,[57] Tolkien himself made use of the term "trilogy" for the work[T 15] though he did at other times consider this incorrect, as it was written and conceived as a single book.[T 16] It is often called a novel; however, Tolkien objected to this term as he viewed it as a heroic romance.[T 17]

 The books were published under a profit-sharing arrangement, whereby Tolkien would not receive an advance or royalties until the books had broken even, after which he would take a large share of the profits.[58] It has ultimately become one of the best-selling novels ever written, with 50 million copies sold by 2003[59] and over 150 million copies sold by 2007.[2] The work was published in the UK by Allen & Unwin until 1990, when the publisher and its assets were acquired by HarperCollins.[60][61]

 Editions and revisions [ edit ]

 In the early 1960s Donald A. Wollheim, science fiction editor of the paperback publisher Ace Books, claimed that The Lord of the Rings was not protected in the United States under American copyright law because Houghton Mifflin, the US hardcover publisher, had neglected to copyright the work in the United States.[62][63] Then, in 1965, Ace Books proceeded to publish an edition, unauthorized by Tolkien and without paying royalties to him. Tolkien took issue with this and quickly notified his fans of this objection.[64] Grass-roots pressure from these fans became so great that Ace Books withdrew their edition and made a nominal payment to Tolkien.[65][T 18]

 Barbara Remington's cover illustrations for the Ballantine paperback version "achieved mass-cult status" on American college campuses in the 1960s.[19] They were parodied by Michael K. Frith's cover design for the 1969 Bored of the Rings.[66][67]

 Authorized editions followed from Ballantine Books and Houghton Mifflin to tremendous commercial success. Tolkien undertook various textual revisions to produce a version of the book that would be published with his consent and establish an unquestioned US copyright. This text became the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings, published in 1965.[65] The first Ballantine paperback edition was printed in October that year, selling a quarter of a million copies within ten months. On 4 September 1966, the novel debuted on The New York Times ' s Paperback Bestsellers list as number three, and was number one by 4 December, a position it held for eight weeks.[68] Houghton Mifflin editions after 1994 consolidate variant revisions by Tolkien, and corrections supervised by Christopher Tolkien, which resulted, after some initial glitches, in a computer-based unified text.[69]

 In 2004, for the 50th Anniversary Edition, Wayne G. Hammond and Christina Scull, under supervision from Christopher Tolkien, studied and revised the text to eliminate as many errors and inconsistencies as possible, some of which had been introduced by well-meaning compositors of the first printing in 1954, and never been corrected.[70] The 2005 edition of the book contained further corrections noticed by the editors and submitted by readers. Yet more corrections were made in the 60th Anniversary Edition in 2014.[71] Several editions, including the 50th Anniversary Edition, print the whole work in one volume, with the result that pagination varies widely over the various editions.[T 19]

 Posthumous publication of drafts [ edit ]

 From 1988 to 1992 Christopher Tolkien published the surviving drafts of The Lord of The Rings, chronicling and illuminating with commentary the stages of the text's development, in volumes 6–9 of his History of Middle-earth series. The four volumes carry the titles The Return of the Shadow, The Treason of Isengard, The War of the Ring, and Sauron Defeated.[72]

 Translations [ edit ]

 Main article: Translations of The Lord of the Rings

 The work has been translated, with varying degrees of success, into at least 38,[c] and reportedly at least 70, languages.[73] Tolkien, an expert in philology, examined many of these translations, and made comments on each that reflect both the translation process and his work. As he was unhappy with some choices made by early translators, such as the Swedish translation by Åke Ohlmarks,[T 20] Tolkien wrote a "Guide to the Names in The Lord of the Rings" (1967). Because The Lord of the Rings purports to be a translation of the fictitious Red Book of Westmarch, using the English language to represent the Westron of the "original", Tolkien suggested that translators attempt to capture the interplay between English and the invented nomenclature of the English work, and gave several examples along with general guidance.[74][75]

 Reception [ edit ]

 Main article: Literary reception of The Lord of the Rings

 1950s [ edit ]

 Early reviews of the work were mixed. The initial review in the Sunday Telegraph described it as "among the greatest works of imaginative fiction of the twentieth century".[76] The Sunday Times echoed this sentiment, stating that "the English-speaking world is divided into those who have read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and those who are going to read them."[76] The New York Herald Tribune appeared to predict the books' popularity, writing in its review that they were "destined to outlast our time".[77] W. H. Auden, a former pupil of Tolkien's and an admirer of his writings, regarded The Lord of the Rings as a "masterpiece", further stating that in some cases it outdid the achievement of John Milton's Paradise Lost.[78] Kenneth F. Slater wrote in Nebula Science Fiction, April 1955, "... if you don't read it, you have missed one of the finest books of its type ever to appear".[79][80] On the other hand, in 1955, the Scottish poet Edwin Muir attacked The Return of the King, writing that "All the characters are boys masquerading as adult heroes ... and will never come to puberty ... Hardly one of them knows anything about women", causing Tolkien to complain angrily to his publisher.[81] In 1956, the literary critic Edmund Wilson wrote a review entitled "Oo, Those Awful Orcs!", calling Tolkien's work "juvenile trash", and saying "Dr. Tolkien has little skill at narrative and no instinct for literary form."[82]

 Within Tolkien's literary group, The Inklings, the work had a mixed reception. Hugo Dyson complained loudly at its readings,[83][84] whereas C. S. Lewis had very different feelings, writing, "here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron. Here is a book which will break your heart."[8] Lewis observed that the writing is rich, in that some of the 'good' characters have darker sides, and likewise some of the villains have "good impulses".[85] Despite the mixed reviews and the lack of a paperback until the 1960s, The Lord of the Rings initially sold well in hardback.[8]

 Later [ edit ]

 Further information: Tolkien's prose style and Literary hostility to J. R. R. Tolkien

 Judith Shulevitz, writing in The New York Times, criticized the "pedantry" of Tolkien's literary style, saying that he "formulated a high-minded belief in the importance of his mission as a literary preservationist, which turns out to be death to literature itself".[86] The critic Richard Jenkyns, writing in The New Republic, criticized the work for a lack of psychological depth. Both the characters and the work itself were, according to Jenkyns, "anemic, and lacking in fibre".[87] The science fiction author David Brin interprets the work as holding unquestioning devotion to a traditional hierarchical social structure.[88] In his essay "Epic Pooh", fantasy author Michael Moorcock critiques the world-view displayed by the book as deeply conservative, in both the "paternalism" of the narrative voice and the power structures in the narrative.[89] Tom Shippey, like Tolkien an English philologist, notes the wide gulf between Tolkien's supporters, both popular and academic, and his literary detractors, and attempts to explain in detail both why the literary establishment disliked The Lord of the Rings, and the work's subtlety, themes, and merits, including the impression of depth that it conveys.[90] The scholar of humanities Brian Rosebury analysed Tolkien's prose style in detail, showing that it was generally quite plain, varying to suit the voices of the different characters, and rising to a heroic register for special moments.[91]

 Awards [ edit ]

 In 1957, The Lord of the Rings was awarded the International Fantasy Award. Despite its numerous detractors, the publication of the Ace Books and Ballantine paperbacks helped The Lord of the Rings become immensely popular in the United States in the 1960s. The book has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the twentieth century, judged by both sales and reader surveys.[92] In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted in Britain by the BBC, The Lord of the Rings was found to be the "Nation's best-loved book". In similar 2004 polls both Germany[93] and Australia[94] chose The Lord of the Rings as their favourite book. In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, The Lord of the Rings was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium".[95] In 2019, the BBC News listed The Lord of the Rings on its list of the 100 most influential novels.[96]

 Adaptations [ edit ]

 Main article: Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings

 The Lord of the Rings has been adapted for radio, stage, film and television.

 Radio [ edit ]

 The book has been adapted for radio four times. In 1955 and 1956, the BBC broadcast The Lord of the Rings, a 13-part radio adaptation of the story. In the 1960s radio station WBAI produced a short radio adaptation. A 1979 dramatization of The Lord of the Rings was broadcast in the United States and subsequently issued on tape and CD. In 1981, the BBC broadcast The Lord of the Rings, a new dramatization in 26 half-hour instalments.[97][98]

 Film and television [ edit ]

 Main articles: Middle-earth in film and The Lord of the Rings: film versus book

 A variety of filmmakers considered adapting Tolkien's book, among them Stanley Kubrick, who thought it unfilmable,[99][100] Michelangelo Antonioni,[101] Jim Henson,[102] Heinz Edelmann,[103] and John Boorman.[104] A Swedish live action television film, Sagan om ringen, was broadcast in 1971.[105] In 1978, Ralph Bakshi made an animated film version covering The Fellowship of the Ring and part of The Two Towers, to mixed reviews.[106] In 1980, Rankin/Bass released an animated TV special based on the closing chapters of The Return of the King, gaining mixed reviews.[107][108] In Finland, a live action television miniseries, Hobitit, was broadcast in 1993 based on The Lord of the Rings, with a flashback to Bilbo's encounter with Gollum in The Hobbit.[109][110]

 A far more successful adaptation was Peter Jackson's live action The Lord of the Rings film trilogy, produced by New Line Cinema and released in three instalments as The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002), and The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003). All three parts won multiple Academy Awards, including consecutive Best Picture nominations. The final instalment of this trilogy was the second film to break the one-billion-dollar barrier and won a total of 11 Oscars (something only two other films in history, Ben-Hur and Titanic, have accomplished), including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay.[111][112] Commentators including Tolkien scholars, literary critics and film critics are divided on how faithfully Jackson adapted Tolkien's work, or whether a film version is inevitably different, and if so the reasons for any changes, and the effectiveness of the result.[113]

 The Hunt for Gollum, a 2009 film by Chris Bouchard,[114][115] and the 2009 Born of Hope, written by Paula DiSante and directed by Kate Madison, are fan films based on details in the appendices of The Lord of the Rings.[116]

 From September 2022, Amazon is presenting a multi-season television series of stories, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power. It is set at the beginning of the Second Age, long before the time of The Lord of the Rings, based on materials in the novel's appendices.[117][118][119]

 Audiobooks [ edit ]

 In 1990, Recorded Books published an audio version of The Lord of the Rings,[120] read by the British actor Rob Inglis. A large-scale musical theatre adaptation, The Lord of the Rings, was first staged in Toronto, Ontario, Canada in 2006 and opened in London in June 2007; it was a commercial failure.[121]

 In 2013, artist Phil Dragash recorded a full unabridged version of the book, using score from Peter Jackson's movies.[122][123][124]

 During the COVID-19 lockdown, Andy Serkis read the entire book of The Hobbit to raise money for charity.[125] He then recorded the work again as an audiobook.[126][127] The cover art was done by Alan Lee. In 2021, Serkis recorded The Lord of the Rings novels.[128]

 Legacy [ edit ]

 Main article: Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien

 Influence on fantasy [ edit ]

 Further information: Middle-earth in video games

 The enormous popularity of Tolkien's work expanded the demand for fantasy. Largely thanks to The Lord of the Rings, the genre flowered throughout the 1960s and enjoys popularity to the present day.[129] The opus has spawned many imitations, such as The Sword of Shannara, which Lin Carter called "the single most cold-blooded, complete rip-off of another book that I have ever read,"[130] as well as alternate interpretations of the story, such as The Last Ringbearer. The Legend of Zelda, which popularized the action-adventure game genre in the 1980s, was inspired by The Lord of the Rings among other fantasy books.[131][132] Dungeons & Dragons, which popularized the role-playing game genre in the 1970s, features several races from The Lord of the Rings, including halflings (hobbits), elves, dwarves, half-elves, orcs, and dragons. However, Gary Gygax, lead designer of the game, maintained that he was influenced very little by The Lord of the Rings, stating that he included these elements as a marketing move to draw on the popularity the work enjoyed at the time he was developing the game.[133] Because Dungeons & Dragons has gone on to influence many popular games, especially role-playing video games, the influence of The Lord of the Rings extends to many of them, with titles such as Dragon Quest,[134][135] EverQuest, the Warcraft series, and The Elder Scrolls series of games[136] as well as video games set in Middle-earth itself.

 Music [ edit ]

 Further information: Music of Middle-earth

 In 1965, the songwriter Donald Swann, best known for his collaboration with Michael Flanders as Flanders & Swann, set six poems from The Lord of the Rings and one from The Adventures of Tom Bombadil ("Errantry") to music. When Swann met with Tolkien to play the songs for his approval, Tolkien suggested for "Namárië" (Galadriel's lament) a setting reminiscent of plain chant, which Swann accepted.[137] The songs were published in 1967 as The Road Goes Ever On: A Song Cycle,[138] and a recording of the songs performed by singer William Elvin with Swann on piano was issued that same year by Caedmon Records as Poems and Songs of Middle Earth.[139]

 Rock bands of the 1970s were musically and lyrically inspired by the fantasy-embracing counter-culture of the time. The British rock band Led Zeppelin recorded several songs that contain explicit references to The Lord of the Rings, such as mentioning Gollum and Mordor in "Ramble On", the Misty Mountains in "Misty Mountain Hop", and Ringwraiths in "The Battle of Evermore". In 1970, the Swedish musician Bo Hansson released an instrumental concept album entitled Sagan om ringen ("The Saga of the Ring", the title of the Swedish translation at the time).[140] The album was subsequently released internationally as Music Inspired by Lord of the Rings in 1972.[140] From the 1980s onwards, many heavy metal acts have been influenced by Tolkien.[141]

 In 1988, the Dutch composer and trombonist Johan de Meij completed his Symphony No. 1 "The Lord of the Rings". It had 5 movements, titled "Gandalf", "Lothlórien", "Gollum", "Journey in the Dark", and "Hobbits".[142]

 The 1991 album Shepherd Moons by the Irish musician Enya contains an instrumental titled "Lothlórien", in reference to the home of the wood-elves.[143]

 Impact on popular culture [ edit ]

 "Welcome to Hobbiton" sign in Matamata, New Zealand, where Peter Jackson's film version was shot

 The Lord of the Rings has had a profound and wide-ranging impact on popular culture, beginning with its publication in the 1950s, but especially during the 1960s and 1970s, when young people embraced it as a countercultural saga.[144] "Frodo Lives!" and "Gandalf for President" were two phrases popular amongst United States Tolkien fans during this time.[145] Its impact is such that the words "Tolkienian" and "Tolkienesque" have entered the Oxford English Dictionary, and many of his fantasy terms, formerly little-known in English, such as "Orc" and "Warg", have become widespread in that domain.[146] Among its effects are numerous parodies, especially Harvard Lampoon 's Bored of the Rings, which has had the distinction of remaining continuously in print from its publication in 1969, and of being translated into at least 11 languages.[147]

 In 1969, Tolkien sold the merchandising rights to The Lord of The Rings (and The Hobbit) to United Artists under an agreement stipulating a lump sum payment of £10,000[148] plus a 7.5% royalty after costs,[149] payable to Allen & Unwin and the author.[150] In 1976, three years after the author's death, United Artists sold the rights to Saul Zaentz Company, who now trade as Tolkien Enterprises. Since then all "authorised" merchandise has been signed off by Tolkien Enterprises, although the intellectual property rights of the specific likenesses of characters and other imagery from various adaptations is generally held by the adaptors.[151]

 Outside commercial exploitation from adaptations, from the late 1960s onwards there has been an increasing variety of original licensed merchandise, with posters and calendars created by illustrators such as Barbara Remington.[152]

 The work was named Britain's best novel of all time in the BBC's The Big Read.[153] In 2015, the BBC ranked The Lord of the Rings 26th on its list of the 100 greatest British novels.[154] It was included in Le Monde ' s list of "100 Books of the Century".[155]

 Notes [ edit ]

 1. ^ J. R. R. Tolkien did not like it when the word "novel" was used to describe his works, but the term is commonly applied. He preferred the phrase "heroic romance ". [T 1]
 2. ^ Tolkien has the wizard Gandalf say to the hobbit Frodo "the Black Riders are the Ringwraiths, the Nine Servants of the Lord of the Rings." [T 2]
 3. ^ a b At least 38 languages are listed at the FAQ . This number is a conservative estimate; some 56 translations are listed at translations of The Lord of the Rings , and 57 languages are listed at Elrond's Library .
 4. ^ Although Frodo refers to Bilbo as his "uncle", the character is introduced in "A Long-expected Party" as one of Bilbo's younger cousins. The two were in fact first and second cousins, once removed either way (his paternal great-great-uncle's son's son and his maternal great-aunt's son).
 5. ^ Tolkien created the word to define a different view of myth from C. S. Lewis's "lies breathed through silver", writing the poem Mythopoeia to present his argument; it was first published in Tree and Leaf in 1988. [9]
 6. ^ See the lead images in the articles on the three separate volumes, e.g. The Fellowship of the Ring .

 References [ edit ]

 Primary [ edit ]

 1. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #329 to Peter Szabo Szentmihalyi, October 1971
 2. ^ Tolkien, J. R. R. (1954a). The Fellowship of the Ring. The Lord of the Rings. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. OCLC 9552942. book 2, ch. 1 "Many Meetings"
 3. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #126 to Milton Waldman (draft), 10 March 1950
 4. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #17 to Stanley Unwin , 15 October 1937
 5. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #144 to Naomi Mitchison , 25 April 1954
 6. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #141 to Allen & Unwin, 9 October 1953
 7. ^ Tolkien 1997 , pp. 162–197 "English and Welsh"
 8. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #142 to Robert Murray, S. J., 2 December 1953
 9. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #165 to Houghton Mifflin , 30 June 1955
 10. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #19 to Stanley Unwin , 31 December 1960
 11. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #178 to Allen & Unwin, 12 December 1955, and #303 to Nicholas Thomas, 6 May 1968
 12. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #211 to Rhona Beare, 14 October 1958
 13. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #140 to Rayner Unwin , 17 August 1953
 14. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #143 to Rayner Unwin , 22 January 1954
 15. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #163 to W. H. Auden , 7 June 1955
 16. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #149 to Rayner Unwin , 9 September 1954
 17. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letter #239 to Peter Szabo Szentmihalyi, draft, October 1971
 18. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letters #270, #273 and #277
 19. ^ Tolkien, J. R. R. (2004). The Lord of the Rings 50th Anniversary Edition. HarperCollins. ISBN 978-0-261-10320-7. "This special 50th anniversary hardback edition of J. R. R. Tolkien's classic masterpiece includes the complete revised and reset text, two-fold out maps printed in red and black and, unique to this edition, a full-colour fold-out reproduction of Tolkien's own facsimile pages from the "Book of Mazarbul" that the Fellowship discover in Moria."
 20. ^ Carpenter 1981 , letters #228 and #229 to Allen & Unwin, 24 January 1961 and 23 February 1961

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 137. ^ Tolkien had recorded a version of his theme on a friend's tape recorder in 1952. This was later issued by Caedmon Records in 1975 as part of J. R. R. Tolkien reads and sings The Lord of the Rings (LP recording TC1478).
 138. ^ Tolkien, J. R. R.; Swann, Donald (1967). The Road Goes Ever On: A Song Cycle. Ballantine Books.
 139. ^ Tolkien, J. R. R.; Swann, Donald (1967). Poems and Songs of Middle Earth (LP recording). Caedmon Records. TC1231/TC91231.
 140. ^ a b Snider, Charles (2008). The Strawberry Bricks Guide to Progressive Rock. Strawberry Bricks. pp. 120–121. ISBN 978-0-615-17566-9.
 141. ^ Greene, Andy (16 August 2017). "Ramble On: Rockers Who Love 'The Lord of the Rings'". Rolling Stone. Archived from the original on 16 August 2017.
 142. ^ "The Lord of the Rings Der Herr der Ringe Symphony No. 1 Sinfonie Nr. 1". Rundel . Retrieved 2 August 2020 .
 143. ^ Ryan, Roma (2002). Only Time — The Collection (Booklet notes, pages 15, 16, 19, 21). Enya. Warner Music. 0927 49211-2.
 144. ^ Feist, Raymond (2001). Meditations on Middle-earth. St. Martin's Press. ISBN 0-312-30290-8.
 145. ^ Carpenter, Humphrey (2000). J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. ISBN 0-618-05702-1.
 146. ^ Gilliver, Peter (2006). The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford University Press. pp. 174, 201–206. ISBN 0-19-861069-6.
 147. ^ Bratman, David (2013) [2007]. "Parodies". In Drout, Michael D. C. (ed.). The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia. Routledge. pp. 503–504. ISBN 978-0-415-86511-1.
 148. ^ "Tolkien sold film rights for £10,000". London Evening Standard. 12 July 2001. Archived from the original on 14 September 2012 . Retrieved 20 November 2011 .
 149. ^ Pulley, Brett (15 July 2009). "'Hobbit' Heirs Seek $220 Million for 'Rings' Rights (Update1)". Bloomberg. Archived from the original on 2 August 2012 . Retrieved 20 November 2011 .
 150. ^ Harlow, John (28 May 2008). "Hobbit movies meet dire foe in son of Tolkien". The Times. Archived from the original on 15 June 2011 . Retrieved 19 January 2022 .
 151. ^ Mathijs, Ernest (2006). The Lord of the Rings: Popular Culture in Global Context. Wallflower Press. p. 25. ISBN 978-1-904764-82-3.
 152. ^ Carmel, Julia (15 February 2020). "Barbara Remington, Illustrator of Tolkien Book Covers, Dies at 90". The New York Times . Retrieved 18 July 2020 .
 153. ^ Ezard, John (15 December 2003). "Tolkien runs rings round Big Read rivals". The Guardian . Retrieved 3 August 2020 .
 154. ^ Ciabattari, Jane (7 December 2015). "The 100 greatest British novels". BBC. Archived from the original on 8 December 2015 . Retrieved 8 December 2015 .
 155. ^ Savigneau, Josyane (15 October 1999). "Écrivains et choix sentimentaux" [Authors and sentimental choices]. Le Monde (in French). Archived from the original on 27 May 2012.

 Sources [ edit ]

 * Carpenter, Humphrey (1977). J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography. New York: Ballantine Books. ISBN 978-0-04-928037-3.
 * Carpenter, Humphrey, ed. (1981). The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 978-0-395-31555-2.
 * Drout, Michael D. C. (2006). The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia. Routledge. ISBN 978-0-415-96942-0.
 * Hammond, Wayne G.; Scull, Christina (2005). The Lord of the Rings: A Reader's Companion. Houghton Mifflin Co. ISBN 978-0-00-720907-1.
 * Tolkien, Christopher (ed.) (1988–1992). The History of The Lord of the Rings, 4 vols.
 * Tolkien, J. R. R. (1997). The Monsters and the Critics, and Other Essays. HarperCollins. ISBN 978-0-261-10263-7.

 External links [ edit ]

 Wikimedia Commons has media related to The Lord of the Rings.
 Wikiquote has quotations related to The Lord of the Rings.
 Wikivoyage has a travel guide for The Lord of the Rings tourism.
 * Tolkien website of Harper Collins (the British publisher)
 * Tolkien website of Houghton Mifflin Archived 24 April 2021 at the Wayback Machine (the American publisher)
 * Lord of the Rings, The Archived 2 June 2021 at the Wayback Machine at the Encyclopedia of Fantasy
 Links to related articles   
 * v   
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 * J. R. R. Tolkien   
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   o Bag End 
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   * Bilbo's Last Song 
 Related  * The Silmarillion 
 works  * Unfinished Tales 
   * The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien 
   * The History of Middle-earth 
   * The Children of Húrin 
   * The History of The Hobbit 
   * The Sea-Bell 
   * Beren and Lúthien 
   * The Fall of Gondolin 
   * The Nature of Middle-earth 
 Adaptations and derivative works   
 * Bored of the Rings (1969)  
 Books * The Last Ringbearer (1999)  
 * Muddle Earth (2003)  
 * A Map of Middle-earth  
  + Pauline Baynes  
  + Barbara Remington  
 Illustrations * John Howe   
 * Alan Lee   
 * Margrethe II of Denmark  
 * Ted Nasmith   
 Theatre * Fellowship! (2005)  
 * Lord of the Rings (2006)  
 * The Lord of the Rings (BBC, 1955)  
 * The Lord of the Rings (NPR, 1979)  
 Radio * Hordes of the Things (1980)  
 * The Lord of the Rings (BBC, 1981)  
 * Der Herr der Ringe (1992)  
  * The Lord of the Rings (Bakshi, 1978)  
 Animated * The Return of the King (Rankin/Bass, 1980)  
  * The War of the Rohirrim (2024)  
  * The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)  
  * The Two Towers (2002)  
 Peter Jackson * The Return of the King (2003)  
 series (Production) * "Concerning Hobbits" 
  Music * "Into the West"  
 Film  * "May It Be"  
    
  * Sagan om ringen (1971)  
  * Khraniteli (1991)  
 Other * Hobitit (1993)  
  * The Rings of Power (2022)  
  + music  
 Fan-made * The Hunt for Gollum (2009)  
  * Born of Hope (2009)  
    
 * Journey to Rivendell  
 * Game One   
 * Game Two: Shadows of Mordor  
 * War in Middle Earth  
 * Vol. I (1990)   
 * Vol. I (SNES)   
 * Riders of Rohan   
 * Elendor   
 * Volume II   
 * The Fellowship of the Ring  
 * The Two Towers   
 * The Return of the King  
 * War of the Ring   
 * The Third Age   
 * The Battle for Middle-earth  
 * Tactics   
 * The Battle for Middle-earth II  
  + The Rise of the Witch-king  
 Video games * Conquest   
 * Aragorn's Quest   
 * War in the North  
 * Lego The Lord of the Rings  
 * Guardians of Middle-earth  
 * Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor  
 * Middle-earth: Shadow of War  
 * The Lord of the Rings: Gollum  
  * Mines of Moria  
  * Siege of Mirkwood  
  * Rise of Isengard  
  * Riders of Rohan  
 The Lord of the Rings Online * Helm's Deep  
  * Mordor  
  * Minas Morgul  
  * War of Three Peaks  
  * Fate of Gundabad  
  * Before the Shadow  
    
 * Middle-earth Role Playing  
 Tabletop role- * The Lord of the Rings Roleplaying Game  
 playing games * The One Ring Roleplaying Game  
 * Adventures in Middle-earth  
 * Middle Earth   
  + War of the Ring  
  + Gondor: The Siege of Minas Tirith  
 Board games + Sauron   
 * Lord of the Rings  
 * Risk: The Lord of the Rings Trilogy Edition  
 * War of the Ring   
 * Middle-earth Collectible Card Game  
 Card games * The Lord of the Rings Trading Card Game  
 * The Lord of the Rings: The Card Game  
 Other games * Middle-earth Strategy Battle Game  
 * Lego The Lord of the Rings  
    
    
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 Middle-earth   
 * J. R. R. Tolkien   
 + Bibliography   
 * Canon   
 * Influences   
 + Beowulf   
 + Shakespeare   
 * Legendarium   
 * Outline   
 * The Adventures of Tom Bombadil  
 * Beren and Lúthien   
 * Bilbo's Last Song   
 * The Children of Húrin   
 * The Fall of Gondolin   
 * The Fall of Númenor   
 * The Hobbit   
 * The Lord of the Rings   
 + The Fellowship of the Ring  
 Works o "The Shadow of the Past"  
 o "The Council of Elrond"  
 + The Two Towers   
 + The Return of the King  
 o "The Scouring of the Shire"  
 o "The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen"  
 * The Silmarillion   
 + "Ainulindalë"   
 + Round World version   
 * Unfinished Tales   
 * The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien  
 * The History of The Hobbit   
 * The History of Middle-earth  
 + 1–2 The Book of Lost Tales  
 o Ælfwine   
 + 3 The Lays of Beleriand  
 History of + 4 The Shaping of Middle-earth  
 composition + 5 The Lost Road and Other Writings  
 + 6–9 The History of The Lord of the Rings  
 o The Notion Club Papers  
 + 10 Morgoth's Ring   
 + 11 The War of the Jewels  
 + 12 The Peoples of Middle-earth  
 * The Nature of Middle-earth  
  * Ainur   
  + Maiar   
  o Balrogs  
  o Wizards  
  + Valar   
  * Dragons   
  * Dwarves   
  * Eagles   
  * Elves   
 Peoples, + Half-elven  
 Monsters + Noldor   
  + Sundering   
  * Ents   
  * Hobbits   
  * Men   
  + Beornings   
  + Drúedain   
  + Dúnedain   
  * Orcs   
  * Trolls   
  * Celebrimbor   
  * Eärendil and Elwing  
  * Elendil   
  * Elrond   
  * Fëanor   
  * Fingolfin   
  * Finwë and Míriel  
  * Galadriel   
  * Gandalf   
  * Gil-galad   
  * Glorfindel   
 Characters * Goldberry   
  * Húrin   
  * Isildur   
  * Lúthien and Beren  
  * Melian   
  * Morgoth   
  * Saruman   
  * Sauron   
  * Thingol   
  * Tom Bombadil   
  * Tuor and Idril  
  * Túrin Turambar  
  * Ungoliant   
  * Beleriand   
  * Bree   
  * Gondor   
  * Harad   
  * Isengard   
  * Lonely Mountain  
 Fictional * Lothlórien   
 universe Geography * Mirkwood   
  * Mordor   
  * Moria   
  * Númenor   
  * Rivendell   
  * Rohan   
  * The Shire   
  + Bag End   
  * Valinor   
  * Mithril   
  * Palantír   
  * Red Book of Westmarch  
 Objects * Rings of Power  
  + One Ring   
  * Silmarils   
  * Two Trees of Valinor  
  * List of weapons and armour  
  * Artwork   
  * Family trees   
  * Heraldry   
  * Languages   
  + Quenya   
 Elements + Sindarin   
  * Maps   
  * Poetry   
  * Scripts   
  + Cirth   
  + Sarati   
  + Tengwar   
  * Ancestry as guide to character  
  * Architecture   
  * Christianity   
  * Cosmology   
  * Decline and fall  
  * England   
  * Environmentalism  
  * First World War  
  * Frame stories   
  * Magic   
 Themes * Medieval   
  * Modernism   
  * Music   
  * Naming of weapons  
  * Paganism   
  * Plants   
  * Prose style   
  * Psychological journeys  
  * Sentience dilemma  
  * Sound and language  
  * Time travel   
  * Trees and forests  
    
  * Jenny Dolfen   
 Artists * John Howe   
  * Alan Lee   
  * Ted Nasmith   
  * Bo Hansson   
  * Johan de Meij  
  + Symphony No. 1 The Lord of the Rings  
 Composers * Howard Shore   
  + Music of The Lord of the Rings film series  
  + Music of The Hobbit film series  
  * Bear McCreary  
  + Music of The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power television series  
 Adaptations, * Donald Swann   
 legacy + The Road Goes Ever On  
  + Poems and Songs of Middle Earth  
 Settings * The Tolkien Ensemble  
  + An Evening in Rivendell  
  + A Night in Rivendell  
  + At Dawn in Rivendell  
  + Leaving Rivendell  
  * Middle-earth Enterprises  
  * Film   
 Other media * Video games   
  * Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien  
  * Things named after Tolkien and his works  
    
 * The Atlas of Middle-earth   
 Maps * Journeys of Frodo   
 * A Map of Middle-earth   
 * The Complete Guide to Middle-earth  
 * A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien  
 * Master of Middle-Earth   
 * J. R. R. Tolkien: Author of the Century  
 * The J. R. R. Tolkien Companion and Guide  
 * The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia  
 * The Lord of the Rings: A Reader's Companion  
 Literary * The Road to Middle-Earth   
 criticism * Splintered Light   
 * Tolkien's Art: 'A Mythology for England'  
 * Tolkien: A Look Behind "The Lord of the Rings"  
 * Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth  
 * Tolkien's Legendarium   
 * Tolkien and the Great War   
 * The Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien  
 * The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary  
    
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 J. R. R. Tolkien   
 *   
 + Bibliography   
 + Letters   
 * Songs for the Philologists (1936)  
 + "Bagme Bloma"   
 * The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son (1953)  
 * "A Walking Song" (1954)  
 * The Adventures of Tom Bombadil (1962)  
 Poetry + "Errantry"   
 and songs + "Fastitocalon"   
 + "The Sea-Bell"   
 + "The Man in the Moon Stayed Up Too Late"  
 * The Road Goes Ever On (1967)  
 * Bilbo's Last Song (1974)  
 * List of Tolkien's alliterative verse  
 * The Hobbit (1937)   
 * "Leaf by Niggle" (1947)  
 * The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun (1945/2016)  
 * Farmer Giles of Ham (1949)  
 * The Lord of the Rings:  
 Fiction + The Fellowship of the Ring (1954)  
 + The Two Towers (1954)  
 + The Return of the King (1955)  
 * Tree and Leaf (1964)   
 * The Tolkien Reader (1966)  
 * Smith of Wootton Major (1967)  
 * The Father Christmas Letters (1976)  
 * The Silmarillion (1977)  
 * Poems and Stories (1980)  
 * Unfinished Tales (1980)  
 * Mr. Bliss (1982)   
 * The History of Middle-earth (1983–1996)  
 + The Book of Lost Tales  
 + The Lays of Beleriand  
 + The Shaping of Middle-earth  
 + The Lost Road and Other Writings  
 + The History of The Lord of the Rings  
 Posthumous + Morgoth's Ring   
 fiction + The War of the Jewels  
 + The Peoples of Middle-earth  
 * Tales from the Perilous Realm (1997)  
 * Roverandom (1998)   
 * The Children of Húrin (2007)  
 * The History of The Hobbit (2007)  
 * The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún (2009)  
 * The Fall of Arthur (2013)  
 * The Story of Kullervo (2015)  
 * Beren and Lúthien (2017)  
 * The Fall of Gondolin (2018)  
 * The Nature of Middle-earth (2021)  
 * The Fall of Númenor (2022)  
 * Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (Middle English text, 1925)  
 * "The Devil's Coach Horses" (1925)  
 * "Ancrene Wisse and Hali Meiðhad" (1929)  
 * "Sigelwara Land" (1932–34)  
 * "Chaucer as a Philologist: The Reeve's Tale" (1934)  
 Academic * "Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics" (1936)  
 works * "On Fairy-Stories" (1939)  
 * "On Translating Beowulf" (1940)  
 * Sir Orfeo (1944)   
 * Ancrene Wisse (1962)   
 * "English and Welsh" (1963)  
 * Jerusalem Bible (as translator and lexicographer, 1966)  
 * Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, and Sir Orfeo (translations, 1975)  
 * Exodus (1981)   
 Posthumous * Finn and Hengest (1982)  
 academic * The Monsters and the Critics, and Other Essays (1983)  
 * Beowulf and the Critics (2002)  
 * Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary with "Sellic Spell" (2014)  
 * A Secret Vice (2016)   
 * Biographers   
 + Humphrey Carpenter  
 + John Garth   
 * Christian   
 + Stratford Caldecott  
 + Matthew T. Dickerson  
 + Peter Kreeft   
 + Joseph Pearce   
 + Fleming Rutledge   
 + Ralph C. Wood   
 * Critics   
 + Douglas A. Anderson  
 + Nicholas Birns   
 + Bradley J. Birzer   
 + David Bratman   
 + Lin Carter   
 + Jane Chance   
 + Janet Brennan Croft  
 + Patrick Curry   
 + Bradford Lee Eden   
 + Dimitra Fimi   
 + Jason Fisher   
 + Verlyn Flieger   
 + Michael Foster   
 Scholars + Glen GoodKnight   
 + Wayne G. Hammond   
 + Randel Helms   
 + Thomas Honegger   
 + Charles A. Huttar   
 + Paul H. Kocher   
 + Stuart D. Lee   
 + Jared Lobdell   
 + John D. Rateliff   
 + Christina Scull   
 + Amy H. Sturgis   
 + Richard C. West   
 * Linguists   
 + Helge Fauskanger   
 + Carl F. Hostetter   
 + Tom Loback   
 + David Salo   
 + Arden R. Smith   
 * Medievalists   
 + Marjorie Burns   
 + Michael Drout   
 + Gergely Nagy   
 + Tom Shippey   
 + Elizabeth Solopova  
 + Sandra Ballif Straubhaar  
 * Family   
 + Francis Xavier Morgan  
 * Influences   
 * Artwork   
 + J. R. R. Tolkien: Artist and Illustrator  
 * Languages constructed by Tolkien  
 * The Inklings   
 * The Keys of Middle-earth  
 * Mythlore   
 * Mythopoeic Society   
 + Elvish Linguistic Fellowship  
 * Tolkien and the modernists  
 * Tolkien Estate   
 * Tolkien fandom   
 * The Tolkien Society   
 Related + Tolkien Reading Day  
 * Tolkien Studies   
 * Memorials   
 * Reception   
 * Tolkien research   
 * Works inspired by Tolkien  
 * J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography (1977, authorized biography)  
 * Master of Middle-Earth  
 * Tolkien and the Great War  
 * The Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien  
 * Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth  
 * Tolkien: A Cultural Phenomenon  
 * Tolkien's Art: A 'Mythology for England'  
 * Tolkien (biographical film)  
 * Poems and Songs of Middle Earth (album)  
 * Language and Human Nature  
 * The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary  
    
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 The Völsung Cycle   
 * Beowulf   
 * Niflung Cycle   
 Attestations * Norna-Gests þáttr   
 * Sigurd stones   
 * Skáldskaparmál   
 * Volsunga saga   
 * Attila   
 * Brynhild   
 * Granmar   
 * Gudrun   
 * Gunnar   
 * Hogni   
 * Helgi Hundingsbane   
 * Högne   
 People * Rerir   
 * Siggeir   
 * Sigi   
 * Sigmund   
 * Signy   
 * Sigurd   
 * Sinfjötli   
 * Svanhildr   
 * Völsung   
 * Andvari   
 * Fáfnir   
 * Grani   
 Other figures * Hreiðmarr   
 * Odin   
 * Ótr   
 * Regin   
 * Andvaranaut   
 Objects * Barnstokkr   
 * Gram   
 * Þiðrekssaga   
 * Hagbard and Signy   
 Related * The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún  
 * Nibelungenlied   
 * The Story of Sigurd the Volsung and the Fall of the Niblungs  
    
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 The Kalevala   
  * Ahti   
  * Ilmatar   
  * Loviatar   
  * Päivätär and Kuutar ‎  
  * Surma   
  * Tapio   
  + Kuippana  
 Gods * Tuonetar   
  * Tuoni   
  * Ukko   
  + Jumala   
  * Rauni   
  * Untamo   
  * Vammatar   
  * Vellamo   
  * Ilmarinen   
 Heroes * Kullervo   
  * Lemminkäinen  
  * Väinämöinen   
  * Lempo   
 Villains * Hiisi   
  * Joukahainen   
  * Louhi   
  * Aino   
  * Antero Vipunen  
  * Iku-Turso   
  * Mielikki   
 Others + Tellervo  
  * Nyyrikki   
  * Otso   
  * Sampsa Pellervoinen  
  * Syöjätär   
  * Ahtola   
  * Metsola   
 Places * Pohjola   
  * Tuonela   
  * Väinölä   
  * Kantele   
  * Sampo   
 Things * Sima   
  * Turja   
  * Ukonvasara   
  * Vuoksi   
  * The Children of Mon and Man  
  * Kalevipoeg   
  * The Lord of the Rings  
 Works inspired by the Kalevala * The Silmarillion  
  * The Song of Hiawatha  
  * The Tomten in Åbo Castle  
  * The Wall of Serpents  
  * The Day the Earth Froze  
  * Elric of Melniboné  
  * Finnish mythology  
  * Finnish paganism  
  + Finnish neopaganism  
  * Jade Warrior  
 Other related * Die Kalewainen in Pochjola  
  * Kalevala Day  
  * Kalevala House  
  * Kanteletar   
  * The Princess of Cyprus  
  * The Quest for Kalevala  
  * The Story of Kullervo  
  * Uhtua   
    
 * v   
 * t   
 * e   
 Books I Love Best Yearly: Older Readers Award   
 * The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 13¾ by Sue Townsend (1990)  
 * The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton (1991)   
 * Where's Wally? by Martin Handford (1992)   
 * Flowers in the Attic by V. C. Andrews (1993)  
 * Looking for Alibrandi by Melina Marchetta (1995)  
 * Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton (1996)   
 * The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien (1997)   
 * Tomorrow, When the War Began by John Marsden (1998)  
 * Bumface by Morris Gleitzman (1999)   
 * Looking for Alibrandi by Melina Marchetta (2000)  
 * Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling (2001)  
 * The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien (2002)  
 * Two of a Kind series by various authors (2003)  
 * Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J. K. Rowling (2004)  
 * Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J. K. Rowling (2005)  
 * Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J. K. Rowling (2006)  
 * Eragon by Christopher Paolini (2007)   
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The Lord of the Rings       The first single-volume edition (1968)    Author  J. R. R. Tolkien    Country United Kingdom   Language English   Genre  
  High fantasy 
 Adventure  
    Set in  Middle-earth    Publisher  Allen &amp; Unwin     Publication date   
 29 July 1954 ( The Fellowship of the Ring )
11 November 1954 ( The Two Towers )
20 October 1955 ( The Return of the King ) 
    Media type Print (hardback &amp; paperback)     OCLC    1487587    Preceded by   The Hobbit     Followed by   The Adventures of Tom Bombadil     
  The Lord of the Rings  is an epic  [1]  high-fantasy novel [a]  by English author and scholar J. R. R. Tolkien. Set in Middle-earth, the story began as a sequel to Tolkien's 1937 children's book  The Hobbit , but eventually developed into a much larger work. Written in stages between 1937 and 1949, The Lord of the Rings is one of the best-selling books ever written, with over 150 million copies sold. [2] 
 The title refers to the story's main antagonist, [b]  the Dark Lord Sauron, who, in an earlier age, created the One Ring to rule the other Rings of Power given to Men, Dwarves, and Elves, in his campaign to conquer all of Middle-earth. From homely beginnings in the Shire, a hobbit land reminiscent of the English countryside, the story ranges across Middle-earth, following the quest to destroy the One Ring mainly through the eyes of the hobbits Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin.
 Although often called a trilogy, the work was intended by Tolkien to be one volume of a two-volume set along with  The Silmarillion . [3]   [T 3]  For economic reasons, The Lord of the Rings was published over the course of a year from 29 July 1954 to 20 October 1955 in three volumes [3]   [4]  titled  The Fellowship of the Ring ,  The Two Towers , and  The Return of the King . The work is divided internally into six books, two per volume, with several appendices of background material. Some later editions print the entire work in a single volume, following the author's original intent.
 Tolkien's work, after an initially mixed reception by the literary establishment, has been the subject of extensive analysis of its themes and origins. Influences on this earlier work, and on the story of The Lord of the Rings, include philology, mythology, Christianity, earlier fantasy works, and his own experiences in the First World War.
  The Lord of the Rings is considered one of the greatest fantasy books ever written and it has helped to create and shape the modern fantasy genre. Since release, it has since been reprinted many times and translated into at least 38 languages. [c]  Its enduring popularity has led to numerous references in popular culture, the founding of many societies by fans of Tolkien's works, [5]  and the publication of many books about Tolkien and his works. It has inspired many derivative works, including paintings, music, films, television, video games, and board games. 
 Award-winning adaptations of The Lord of the Rings  have been made for radio, theatre, and film. It has been named Britain's best-loved novel of all time in the BBC's 2003 poll The Big Read.
Plot[edit]
 The Fellowship of the Ring[edit]
 Prologue[edit]
The prologue explains that the work is "largely concerned with hobbits", telling of their origins in a migration from the east, their habits such as smoking "pipe-weed", and how their homeland the Shire is organised. It explains how the narrative follows on from  The Hobbit , in which the hobbit Bilbo Baggins finds the One Ring, which had been in the possession of Gollum.
 Book I: The Ring Sets Out[edit]
     
Bilbo celebrates his eleventy-first (111th) birthday and leaves the Shire suddenly, passing the Ring to Frodo Baggins, his cousin [d]  and heir. Neither hobbit is aware of the Ring's origin, but the wizard Gandalf suspects it is a Ring of Power. Seventeen years later, Gandalf tells Frodo that he has confirmed that the Ring is the one lost by the Dark Lord Sauron long ago and counsels him to take it away from the Shire. Gandalf leaves, promising to return by Frodo's birthday and accompany him on his journey, but fails to do so.
 Frodo sets out on foot, offering a cover story of moving to Crickhollow, accompanied by his gardener Sam Gamgee and his cousin Pippin Took. They are pursued by mysterious Black Riders, but meet a passing group of Elves led by Gildor Inglorion, whose chants to Elbereth ward off the Riders. The hobbits spend the night with them, then take an evasive short cut the next day, and arrive at the farm of Farmer Maggot, who takes them to Bucklebury Ferry, where they meet their friend Merry Brandybuck. When they reach the house at Crickhollow, Merry and Pippin reveal they know about the Ring and insist on travelling with Frodo and Sam.
 They decide to try to shake off the Black Riders by cutting through the Old Forest. Merry and Pippin are trapped by Old Man Willow, an ancient tree who controls much of the forest, but are rescued by Tom Bombadil. Leaving the refuge of Tom's house, they get lost in a fog and are caught by a barrow-wight in a barrow on the downs, but Frodo, awakening from the barrow-wight's spell, calls Tom Bombadil, who frees them, and equips them with ancient swords from the barrow-wight's hoard.
 The hobbits reach the village of Bree, where they encounter a Ranger named Strider. The innkeeper gives Frodo a letter from Gandalf written three months before which identifies Strider as a friend. Knowing the riders will attempt to seize the party, Strider cunningly avoids their attack and leads the hobbits through the wilderness toward the Elven sanctuary of Rivendell. On the way to Rivendell, the group stops at the hill Weathertop. Strider identifies the riders as the Nazgûl, men from ancient times enslaved by lesser Rings of Power to serve Sauron. While at Weathertop, they are again attacked by five of the nine Black Riders. During the struggle, the Lord of the Nazgûl wounds Frodo with a cursed blade. After fighting off the Nazgûl, Strider treats Frodo with the herb athelas, and is joined by the elf Glorfindel who has been searching for the party. Glorfindel rides with Frodo, now deathly ill, toward Rivendell. The Nazgûl nearly capture Frodo at the Ford of Bruinen, but upon attempting to cross the ford, flood waters summoned by Elrond and Gandalf rise up and overwhelm the Nazgûl.
 Book II: The Ring Goes South[edit]
Frodo recovers in Rivendell under Elrond's care. The Council of Elrond discusses the history of Sauron and the Ring. Strider is revealed to be Aragorn, the heir of Isildur. Isildur had cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand in the battle ending the Second Age, but refused to destroy it, claiming it for himself. The Ring had been lost when Isildur was killed, finally ending up in Bilbo's possession after his meeting with Gollum described in The Hobbit. Gandalf reports that the chief wizard, Saruman, has betrayed them and is now working to become a power in his own right. Gandalf was captured by Saruman, but escaped, explaining why he had failed to return to meet Frodo as he had promised.
 
The Council decides that the Ring must be destroyed, but that can only be done by sending it to the fire of Mount Doom in Mordor where it was forged. Frodo takes this task upon himself. Elrond, with the advice of Gandalf, chooses companions for him. The Fellowship of the Ring consists of nine walkers who set out on the quest to destroy the One Ring, in opposition to the nine Black Riders: the Hobbit and ringbearer Frodo Baggins; his gardener Sam Gamgee; the two young Hobbits Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took; the Wizard Gandalf; the elf Legolas; the dwarf Gimli; and the men Aragorn the ranger, and Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor. The Fellowship thus represents the Free Peoples of the West – Elves, Dwarves, Men, and Hobbits, assisted by a Wizard.
 After a failed attempt to cross the Misty Mountains over the Redhorn Pass, the Fellowship take the perilous path through the Mines of Moria. They learn that Balin, one of the Dwarves who accompanied Bilbo in The Hobbit, and his colony of Dwarves were killed by Orcs. After surviving an attack, they are pursued by Orcs and a Balrog, an ancient fire demon from a prior Age. Gandalf confronts the Balrog, and both of them fall into the abyss of Moria. The others escape and find refuge in the timeless Elven forest of Lothlórien, where they are counselled by the Lady Galadriel. Before they leave, Galadriel tests their loyalty, and gives them individual, magical gifts to help them on their quest. She allows Frodo and Sam to look into her fountain, the Mirror of Galadriel, to see visions of the past, the present, and perhaps the future, and she refuses to take the Ring Frodo offers her, knowing that it would master her.
 Galadriel's husband Celeborn gives the Fellowship boats, elven cloaks, and waybread (Lembas), and they travel down the River Anduin to the hill of Amon Hen. There, Boromir tries to take the Ring from Frodo, but immediately regrets it after Frodo puts on the Ring and disappears. Frodo chooses to go alone to Mordor, but Sam, guessing what he intends, intercepts him as he tries to take a boat across the river, and goes with him.
 The Two Towers[edit]
 Book III: The Treason of Isengard[edit]
A party of large Orcs, Uruk-hai, sent by Saruman, and other Orcs sent by Sauron and led by Grishnákh, attack the Fellowship. Boromir tries to protect Merry and Pippin from the Orcs, but they kill him and capture the two hobbits. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas decide to pursue the Orcs taking Merry and Pippin to Saruman. In the kingdom of Rohan, the Orcs are killed by Riders of Rohan, led by Éomer. Merry and Pippin escape into Fangorn Forest, where they are befriended by Treebeard, the oldest of the tree-like Ents. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas track the hobbits to Fangorn. There they unexpectedly meet Gandalf.
 Gandalf explains that he killed the Balrog. He was also killed in the fight, but was sent back to Middle-earth to complete his mission. He is clothed in white and is now Gandalf the White, for he has taken Saruman's place as the chief of the wizards. Gandalf assures his friends that Merry and Pippin are safe. Together they ride to Edoras, capital of Rohan. Gandalf frees Théoden, King of Rohan, from the influence of Saruman's spy Gríma Wormtongue. Théoden musters his fighting strength and rides with his men to the ancient fortress of Helm's Deep, while Gandalf departs to seek help from Treebeard.
 Meanwhile, the Ents, roused by Merry and Pippin from their peaceful ways, attack and destroy Isengard, Saruman's stronghold, and flood it, trapping the wizard in the tower of Orthanc. Gandalf convinces Treebeard to send an army of Huorns to Théoden's aid. He brings an army of Rohirrim to Helm's Deep, and they defeat the Orcs, who flee into the forest of Huorns, never to be seen again. Gandalf, Théoden, Legolas, and Gimli ride to Isengard, and are surprised to find Merry and Pippin relaxing amidst the ruins. Gandalf offers Saruman a chance to turn away from evil. When Saruman refuses to listen, Gandalf strips him of his rank and most of his powers. After Saruman leaves, Wormtongue throws down a hard round object to try to kill Gandalf. Pippin picks it up; Gandalf swiftly takes it, but Pippin steals it in the night. It is revealed to be a  palantír , a seeing-stone that Saruman used to speak with Sauron, and that Sauron used to ensnare him. Sauron sees Pippin, but misunderstands the circumstances. Gandalf immediately rides for Minas Tirith, chief city of Gondor, taking Pippin with him.
 Book IV: The Ring Goes East[edit]
Frodo and Sam, heading for Mordor, struggle through the barren hills and cliffs of the Emyn Muil. They become aware they are being watched and tracked; on a moonlit night they capture Gollum, who has followed them from Moria. Frodo makes Gollum swear to serve him, as Ringbearer, and asks him to guide them to Mordor. Gollum leads them across the Dead Marshes. Sam overhears Gollum debating with his alter ego, Sméagol, whether to break his promise and steal the Ring.
 They find that the Black Gate of Mordor is too well guarded, so instead they travel south through the land of Ithilien to a secret pass that Gollum knows. On the way, they are captured by rangers led by Faramir, Boromir's brother, and brought to the secret fastness of Henneth Annûn. Faramir resists the temptation to seize the Ring and, disobeying standing orders to arrest strangers found in Ithilien, releases them.
 Gollum – who is torn between his loyalty to Frodo and his desire for the Ring – guides the hobbits to the pass, but leads them into the lair of the great spider Shelob in the tunnels of Cirith Ungol. Frodo holds up the gift given to him in Lothlórien: the Phial of Galadriel, which holds the light of Eärendil's star. The light drives Shelob back. Frodo cuts through a giant web using his sword Sting. Shelob attacks again, and Frodo falls to her venom. Sam picks up Sting and the Phial. He seriously wounds and drives off the monster. Believing Frodo to be dead, Sam takes the Ring to continue the quest alone. Orcs find Frodo; Sam overhears them and learns that Frodo is still alive, but is separated from him.
 The Return of the King[edit]
 Book V: The War of the Ring[edit]
Sauron sends a great army against Gondor. Gandalf arrives at Minas Tirith to warn Denethor of the attack, while Théoden musters the Rohirrim to ride to Gondor's aid. Minas Tirith is besieged; the Lord of the Nazgûl uses a battering ram and the power of his Ring to destroy the city's gates. Denethor, deceived by Sauron, falls into despair. He burns himself alive on a pyre; Pippin and Gandalf rescue his son Faramir from the same fate.
  Aragorn, accompanied by Legolas, Gimli, and the Rangers of the North, takes the Paths of the Dead to recruit the Dead Men of Dunharrow, oathbreakers who are bound by an ancient curse which denies them rest until they fulfil their oath to fight for the King of Gondor. Aragorn unleashes the Army of the Dead on the Corsairs of Umbar invading southern Gondor. With that threat eliminated, Aragorn uses the Corsairs' ships to transport the men of southern Gondor up the Anduin, reaching Minas Tirith just in time to turn the tide of battle. Théoden's niece Éowyn, who joined the army in disguise, kills the Lord of the Nazgûl with help from Merry; both are wounded. Together, Gondor and Rohan defeat Sauron's army in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, though at great cost; Théoden is among the dead.
 Aragorn enters Minas Tirith and heals Faramir, Éowyn, and Merry. He leads an army of men from Gondor and Rohan, marching through Ithilien to the Black Gate to distract Sauron from his true danger. At the Battle of the Morannon, his army is vastly outnumbered.
 Book VI: The End of the Third Age[edit]
Meanwhile, Sam rescues Frodo from the tower of Cirith Ungol. They set out across Mordor. When they reach the edge of the Cracks of Doom, Frodo cannot resist the Ring any longer. He claims it for himself and puts it on. Gollum suddenly reappears. He struggles with Frodo and bites off Frodo's finger with the Ring still on it. Celebrating wildly, Gollum loses his footing and falls into the Fire, taking the Ring with him. When the Ring is destroyed, Sauron loses his power forever. All he created collapses, the Nazgûl perish, and his armies are thrown into such disarray that Aragorn's forces emerge victorious.
 Aragorn is crowned King of Arnor and Gondor, and weds Arwen, daughter of Elrond. Théoden is buried and Éomer is crowned King of Rohan. His sister Éowyn is engaged to marry Faramir, now Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien. Galadriel, Celeborn, and Gandalf meet and say farewell to Treebeard, and to Aragorn.
 The four hobbits make their way back to the Shire, only to find that it has been taken over by men directed by "Sharkey" (whom they later discover to be Saruman). The hobbits, led by Merry, raise a rebellion and scour the Shire of Sharkey's evil. Gríma Wormtongue turns on Saruman and kills him in front of Bag End, Frodo's home. He is killed in turn by hobbit archers. Merry and Pippin are celebrated as heroes. Sam marries Rosie Cotton and uses his gifts from Galadriel to help heal the Shire. But Frodo is still wounded in body and spirit, having borne the Ring for so long. A few years later, in the company of Bilbo and Gandalf, Frodo sails from the Grey Havens west over the Sea to the Undying Lands to find peace.
 Appendices[edit]
The appendices outline more details of the history, cultures, genealogies, and languages that Tolkien imagined for the peoples of Middle-earth. They provide background details for the narrative, with much detail for Tolkien fans who want to know more about the stories.
 Appendix A: "Annals of the Kings and Rulers"
Provides extensive background to the larger world of Middle-earth, with brief overviews of the events of the first two Ages of the world, and then more detailed histories of the nations of Men in Gondor and Rohan, as well as a history of the royal Dwarvish line of Durin during the Third Age.The embedded "Tale of Aragorn and Arwen" tells how it happened that an immortal elf came to marry a man, as told in the main story, which Arwen's ancestor Lúthien had done in the First Age, giving up her immortality.
Appendix B: "The Tale of Years" (Chronology of the Westlands)
It is a timeline of events throughout the series, and ancient events affecting the narrative, and in lesser detail, it gives the stories' context in the fictional chronology of the larger mythology.It also tells that Sam gives his daughter Elanor the fictional  Red Book of Westmarch  – which contains the autobiographical stories of Bilbo's adventures at the opening of the war, and Frodo's role in the full-on War of the Ring, and serves as Tolkien's source for The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings (with Tolkien representing himself as a translator, rather than an epic novelist). It says that there was "a tradition" that after handing over the book, Sam crossed west over the sea himself, the last of the ring-bearers; and that some years later, after the deaths of Aragorn and Arwen, Legolas and Gimli also sailed together "over Sea".
Appendix C: "Family Trees" (Hobbits)
Gives hobbit genealogies – not only for Bilbo and Frodo's Baggins family, but also their relations the Tooks and Brandybucks, which connect them to Pippin and Merry.
Appendix D: "Calendars"
Describes some of the calendars used by the characters in the story, and explains that the Roman month names in the text are "translations" of the names in the hobbits' calendar. (Tolkien was a linguist, and provided Germanic-sounding names for the hobbit calendar by extrapolating names of German and Old English months forward to what he thought they might have become if all were still used in modern English, as Yule and Easter are.)
Appendix E: "Writing and Spelling"
Describes dwarves’ runes and the elvish runes use by the other peoples of Middle-earth; the names of the runes and letters incidentally give a bit of information about dwarvish and elvish languages.
Appendix F: "Languages and Peoples of the Third Age" and "On Translation"
Presented as two sections. In addition to outlines of the various languages in current use during the narrative, and mentioned or seen in the story, it discusses hobbits' names at length. It sorts out names which Tolkien affected to have translated into English, and names which said he had left in original form (since they had no meaning in hobbits' everyday language). 
Frame story[edit]
Tolkien presents The Lord of the Rings within a fictional frame story where he is not the original author, but merely the translator of part of an ancient document, the  Red Book of Westmarch . [6]  That book is modelled on the real  Red Book of Hergest , which similarly presents an older mythology. Various details of the frame story appear in the Prologue, its "Note on Shire Records", and in the Appendices, notably Appendix F. In this frame story, the Red Book is the purported source of Tolkien's other works relating to Middle-earth:  The Hobbit ,  The Silmarillion , and  The Adventures of Tom Bombadil . [7] 
Concept and creation[edit]
Background[edit]
Although a major work in itself, The Lord of the Rings was only the last movement of a much older set of narratives Tolkien had worked on since 1917 encompassing The Silmarillion, [8]  in a process he described as  mythopoeia . [e] 
  The Lord of the Rings started as a sequel to Tolkien's work  The Hobbit, published in 1937. [10]  The popularity of The Hobbit had led George Allen &amp; Unwin, the publishers, to request a sequel. Tolkien warned them that he wrote quite slowly, and responded with several stories he had already developed. Having rejected his contemporary drafts for  The Silmarillion , putting  Roverandom  on hold, and accepting  Farmer Giles of Ham , Allen &amp; Unwin continued to ask for more stories about hobbits. [11] 
Writing[edit]
Persuaded by his publishers, he started "a new Hobbit" in December 1937. [10]  After several false starts, the story of the One Ring emerged. The idea for the first chapter ("A Long-Expected Party") arrived fully formed, although the reasons behind Bilbo's disappearance, the significance of the Ring, and the title The Lord of the Rings did not come until the spring of 1938. [10]  Originally, he planned to write a story in which Bilbo had used up all his treasure and was looking for another adventure to gain more; however, he remembered the Ring and its powers and thought that would be a better focus for the new work. [10]  As the story progressed, he brought in elements from  The Silmarillion  mythology. [12] 
 Writing was slow, because Tolkien had a full-time academic position, marked exams to bring in a little extra income, and wrote many drafts. [10]   [T 4]  Tolkien abandoned The Lord of the Rings during most of 1943 and only restarted it in April 1944, [10]  as a serial for his son Christopher Tolkien, who was sent chapters as they were written while he was serving in South Africa with the Royal Air Force. Tolkien made another major effort in 1946, and showed the manuscript to his publishers in 1947. [10]  The story was effectively finished the next year, but Tolkien did not complete the revision of earlier parts of the work until 1949. [10]  The original manuscripts, which total 9,250 pages, now reside in the J. R. R. Tolkien Collection at Marquette University. [13] 
Poetry[edit]
Unusually for 20th century novels, the prose narrative is supplemented throughout by over 60 pieces of poetry. These include verse and songs of many genres: for wandering, marching to war, drinking, and having a bath; narrating ancient myths, riddles, prophecies, and magical incantations; and of praise and lament (elegy). [14]  Some, such as riddles, charms, elegies, and narrating heroic actions are found in Old English poetry. [14]  Scholars have stated that the poetry is essential for the fiction to work aesthetically and thematically, as it adds information not given in the prose, and it brings out characters and their backgrounds. [15]   [16]  The poetry has been judged to be of high technical skill, reflected in Tolkien's prose; for instance, he wrote much of Tom Bombadil's speech in metre. [17] 
Illustrations[edit]
     
Tolkien worked on the text using his maps of Middle-earth as a guide, to ensure the elements of the story fitted together in time and space. [T 5]  He prepared a variety of types of illustration – maps, calligraphy, drawings, cover designs, even a facsimile painting of the Book of Mazarbul – but only the maps, the inscription on the Ring, and a drawing of the Doors of Durin were included in the first edition. [18]   [T 6] 
 The hardback editions sometimes had cover illustrations by Tolkien, [f]  sometimes by other artists. According to  The New York Times , Barbara Remington's cover designs for Ballantine's paperback editions "achieved mass-cult status in the 1960s, particularly on college campuses" across America. [19] 
Influences[edit]
        Beowulf 's eotenas [ond] ylfe [ond] orcneas, "ogres [and] elves [and] devil-corpses" helped to inspire Tolkien to create the Orcs and Elves of Middle-earth. [20]    
Tolkien drew on a wide array of influences including language, [T 7]  Christianity, [T 8]  mythology and Germanic heroic legend including the Norse  Völsunga saga , [21]  archaeology, especially at the Temple of Nodens, [22]  ancient and modern literature, like Finnish 19th-century epic poetry  The Kalevala  by Elias Lönnrot, [23]  and personal experience. He was inspired primarily by his profession, philology; [T 9]  his work centred on the study of Old English literature, especially  Beowulf , and he acknowledged its importance to his writings. [20] 
He was a gifted linguist, influenced by Celtic, [24]   [21]  Finnish, [25]  Slavic, [26]  and Greek language and mythology. [27] 
Commentators have attempted to identify literary and topological antecedents for characters, places and events in Tolkien's writings; he acknowledged that he had enjoyed adventure stories by authors such as John Buchan and Rider Haggard. [28]   [29]   [30]  The Arts and Crafts polymath William Morris was a major influence, [T 10]  and Tolkien undoubtedly made use of some real place-names, such as Bag End, the name of his aunt's home. [31] 
Tolkien stated, too, that he had been influenced by his childhood experiences of the English countryside of Worcestershire near Sarehole Mill, and its urbanisation by the growth of Birmingham, [T 11]  and his personal experience of fighting in the trenches of the First World War. [32]  Moreover, the militarization and industrialization inspired the character of Sauron and his forces. The Orcs represented the worst of it as workers that have been tortured and brutalized by the war and industry. [33] 
Themes[edit]
Scholars and critics have identified many themes in the book with its complex interlaced narrative, including a reversed quest, [34]   [35]  the struggle of good and evil, [36]  death and immortality, [37]  fate and free will, [38]  the addictive danger of power, [39]  and various aspects of Christianity such as the presence of three Christ figures, for prophet, priest, and king, as well as elements like hope and redemptive suffering. [40]   [41]   [42]   [43] 
There is a common theme throughout the work of language, its sound, and its relationship to peoples and places, along with hints of providence in descriptions of weather and landscape. [44]  Out of these, Tolkien stated that the central theme is death and immortality. [T 12]  To those who supposed that the book was an allegory of events in the 20th century, Tolkien replied in the foreword to the Second Edition that it was not, saying he preferred "history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of readers."
 Some commentators have criticized the book for being a story about men for boys, with no significant women; or about a purely rural world with no bearing on modern life in cities; of containing no sign of religion; or of racism. Other commentators responded by noting that there are three powerful women in the book, Galadriel, Éowyn, and Arwen; that life, even in rural Hobbiton, is not idealised; that Christianity is a pervasive theme; and that Tolkien was sharply anti-racist both in peacetime and during the Second World War, while Middle-earth is evidently polycultural. [45]   [46]   [47] 
Publication history[edit]
A dispute with his publisher, George Allen &amp; Unwin, led Tolkien to offer the work to William Collins in 1950. Tolkien intended  The Silmarillion  (itself largely unrevised at this point) to be published along with The Lord of the Rings, but Allen &amp; Unwin were unwilling to do this. After Milton Waldman, his contact at Collins, expressed the belief that The Lord of the Rings itself "urgently wanted cutting", Tolkien eventually demanded that they publish the book in 1952. [48]  Collins did not; and so Tolkien wrote to Allen and Unwin, saying, "I would gladly consider the publication of any part of the stuff", fearing his work would never see the light of day. [10] 
 For publication, the work was divided into three volumes to minimize any potential financial loss due to the high cost of type-setting and modest anticipated sales:  The Fellowship of the Ring  (Books I and II),  The Two Towers  (Books III and IV), and  The Return of the King  (Books V and VI plus six appendices). [49]  Delays in producing appendices, maps and especially an index led to the volumes being published later than originally hoped – on 29 July 1954, on 11 November 1954 and on 20 October 1955 respectively in the United Kingdom. [50]  In the United States, Houghton Mifflin published The Fellowship of the Ring on 21 October 1954, The Two Towers on 21 April 1955, and The Return of the King on 5 January 1956. [51] 
  The Return of the King was especially delayed as Tolkien revised the ending and prepared appendices (some of which had to be left out because of space constraints). Tolkien did not like the title The Return of the King, believing it gave away too much of the storyline, but deferred to his publisher's preference. [52]  Tolkien wrote that the title The Two Towers "can be left ambiguous", [T 13]  but considered naming the two as Orthanc and Barad-dûr, Minas Tirith and Barad-dûr, or Orthanc and the Tower of Cirith Ungol. [T 14]  However, a month later he wrote a note published at the end of The Fellowship of the Ring and later drew a cover illustration, both of which identified the pair as Minas Morgul and Orthanc. [53]   [54] 
 Tolkien was initially opposed to titles being given to each two-book volume, preferring instead the use of book titles: e.g. The Lord of the Rings: Vol. 1, The Ring Sets Out and The Ring Goes South; Vol. 2, The Treason of Isengard and The Ring Goes East; Vol. 3, The War of the Ring and The End of the Third Age. However, these individual book titles were dropped, and after pressure from his publishers, Tolkien suggested the volume titles: Vol. 1, The Shadow Grows; Vol. 2, The Ring in the Shadow; Vol. 3, The War of the Ring or The Return of the King. [55]   [56] 
 Because the three-volume binding was so widely distributed, the work is often referred to as the Lord of the Rings "trilogy". In a letter to the poet W. H. Auden, who famously reviewed the final volume in 1956, [57]  Tolkien himself made use of the term "trilogy" for the work [T 15]  though he did at other times consider this incorrect, as it was written and conceived as a single book. [T 16]  It is often called a novel; however, Tolkien objected to this term as he viewed it as a heroic romance. [T 17] 
 The books were published under a profit-sharing arrangement, whereby Tolkien would not receive an advance or royalties until the books had broken even, after which he would take a large share of the profits. [58]  It has ultimately become one of the best-selling novels ever written, with 50 million copies sold by 2003 [59]  and over 150 million copies sold by 2007. [2]  The work was published in the UK by Allen &amp; Unwin until 1990, when the publisher and its assets were acquired by HarperCollins. [60]   [61] 
Editions and revisions[edit]
In the early 1960s Donald A. Wollheim, science fiction editor of the paperback publisher Ace Books, claimed that The Lord of the Rings was not protected in the United States under American copyright law because Houghton Mifflin, the US hardcover publisher, had neglected to copyright the work in the United States. [62]   [63]  Then, in 1965, Ace Books proceeded to publish an edition, unauthorized by Tolkien and without paying royalties to him. Tolkien took issue with this and quickly notified his fans of this objection. [64]  Grass-roots pressure from these fans became so great that Ace Books withdrew their edition and made a nominal payment to Tolkien. [65]   [T 18] 
     
Authorized editions followed from Ballantine Books and Houghton Mifflin to tremendous commercial success. Tolkien undertook various textual revisions to produce a version of the book that would be published with his consent and establish an unquestioned US copyright. This text became the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings, published in 1965. [65]  The first Ballantine paperback edition was printed in October that year, selling a quarter of a million copies within ten months. On 4 September 1966, the novel debuted on  The New York Times 's Paperback Bestsellers list as number three, and was number one by 4 December, a position it held for eight weeks. [68]  Houghton Mifflin editions after 1994 consolidate variant revisions by Tolkien, and corrections supervised by Christopher Tolkien, which resulted, after some initial glitches, in a computer-based unified text. [69] 
 In 2004, for the 50th Anniversary Edition, Wayne G. Hammond and Christina Scull, under supervision from Christopher Tolkien, studied and revised the text to eliminate as many errors and inconsistencies as possible, some of which had been introduced by well-meaning compositors of the first printing in 1954, and never been corrected. [70]  The 2005 edition of the book contained further corrections noticed by the editors and submitted by readers. Yet more corrections were made in the 60th Anniversary Edition in 2014. [71]  Several editions, including the 50th Anniversary Edition, print the whole work in one volume, with the result that pagination varies widely over the various editions. [T 19] 
Posthumous publication of drafts[edit]
From 1988 to 1992 Christopher Tolkien published the surviving drafts of The Lord of The Rings, chronicling and illuminating with commentary the stages of the text's development, in volumes 6–9 of his  History of Middle-earth  series. The four volumes carry the titles  The Return of the Shadow ,  The Treason of Isengard ,  The War of the Ring , and  Sauron Defeated . [72] 
Translations[edit]
The work has been translated, with varying degrees of success, into at least 38, [c]  and reportedly at least 70, languages. [73]  Tolkien, an expert in philology, examined many of these translations, and made comments on each that reflect both the translation process and his work. As he was unhappy with some choices made by early translators, such as the Swedish translation by Åke Ohlmarks, [T 20]  Tolkien wrote a "Guide to the Names in The Lord of the Rings" (1967). Because The Lord of the Rings purports to be a translation of the fictitious  Red Book of Westmarch , using the English language to represent the Westron of the "original", Tolkien suggested that translators attempt to capture the interplay between English and the invented nomenclature of the English work, and gave several examples along with general guidance. [74]   [75] 
Reception[edit]
1950s[edit]
Early reviews of the work were mixed. The initial review in the  Sunday Telegraph  described it as "among the greatest works of imaginative fiction of the twentieth century". [76]  The  Sunday Times  echoed this sentiment, stating that "the English-speaking world is divided into those who have read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and those who are going to read them." [76]  The  New York Herald Tribune  appeared to predict the books' popularity, writing in its review that they were "destined to outlast our time". [77]  W. H. Auden, a former pupil of Tolkien's and an admirer of his writings, regarded The Lord of the Rings as a "masterpiece", further stating that in some cases it outdid the achievement of John Milton's  Paradise Lost . [78]  Kenneth F. Slater wrote in Nebula Science Fiction, April 1955, "... if you don't read it, you have missed one of the finest books of its type ever to appear". [79]   [80]  On the other hand, in 1955, the Scottish poet Edwin Muir attacked  The Return of the King , writing that "All the characters are boys masquerading as adult heroes ... and will never come to puberty ... Hardly one of them knows anything about women", causing Tolkien to complain angrily to his publisher. [81]  In 1956, the literary critic Edmund Wilson wrote a review entitled "Oo, Those Awful Orcs!", calling Tolkien's work "juvenile trash", and saying "Dr. Tolkien has little skill at narrative and no instinct for literary form." [82] 
 Within Tolkien's literary group, The Inklings, the work had a mixed reception. Hugo Dyson complained loudly at its readings, [83]   [84]  whereas C. S. Lewis had very different feelings, writing, "here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron. Here is a book which will break your heart." [8]  Lewis observed that the writing is rich, in that some of the 'good' characters have darker sides, and likewise some of the villains have "good impulses". [85]  Despite the mixed reviews and the lack of a paperback until the 1960s, The Lord of the Rings initially sold well in hardback. [8] 
Later[edit]
Judith Shulevitz, writing in  The New York Times , criticized the "pedantry" of Tolkien's literary style, saying that he "formulated a high-minded belief in the importance of his mission as a literary preservationist, which turns out to be death to literature itself". [86]  The critic Richard Jenkyns, writing in  The New Republic , criticized the work for a lack of psychological depth. Both the characters and the work itself were, according to Jenkyns, "anemic, and lacking in fibre". [87]  The science fiction author David Brin interprets the work as holding unquestioning devotion to a traditional hierarchical social structure. [88]  In his essay "Epic Pooh", fantasy author Michael Moorcock critiques the world-view displayed by the book as deeply conservative, in both the "paternalism" of the narrative voice and the power structures in the narrative. [89]  Tom Shippey, like Tolkien an English philologist, notes the wide gulf between Tolkien's supporters, both popular and academic, and his literary detractors, and attempts to explain in detail both why the literary establishment disliked The Lord of the Rings, and the work's subtlety, themes, and merits, including the impression of depth that it conveys. [90]  The scholar of humanities Brian Rosebury analysed Tolkien's prose style in detail, showing that it was generally quite plain, varying to suit the voices of the different characters, and rising to a heroic register for special moments. [91] 
Awards[edit]
In 1957, The Lord of the Rings was awarded the International Fantasy Award. Despite its numerous detractors, the publication of the Ace Books and Ballantine paperbacks helped The Lord of the Rings become immensely popular in the United States in the 1960s. The book has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the twentieth century, judged by both sales and reader surveys. [92]  In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted in Britain by the BBC, The Lord of the Rings was found to be the "Nation's best-loved book". In similar 2004 polls both Germany [93]  and Australia [94]  chose The Lord of the Rings as their favourite book. In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, The Lord of the Rings was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium". [95]  In 2019, the  BBC News  listed The Lord of the Rings on its list of the 100 most influential novels. [96] 
Adaptations[edit]
 The Lord of the Rings has been adapted for radio, stage, film and television.
Radio[edit]
The book has been adapted for radio four times. In 1955 and 1956, the BBC broadcast  The Lord of the Rings , a 13-part radio adaptation of the story. In the 1960s radio station WBAI produced a short radio adaptation. A 1979 dramatization of  The Lord of the Rings  was broadcast in the United States and subsequently issued on tape and CD. In 1981, the BBC broadcast  The Lord of the Rings , a new dramatization in 26 half-hour instalments. [97]   [98] 
Film and television[edit]
A variety of filmmakers considered adapting Tolkien's book, among them Stanley Kubrick, who thought it unfilmable, [99]   [100]  Michelangelo Antonioni, [101]  Jim Henson, [102]  Heinz Edelmann, [103]  and John Boorman. [104] 
A Swedish live action television film,  Sagan om ringen , was broadcast in 1971. [105] 
In 1978, Ralph Bakshi made an animated film version covering The Fellowship of the Ring and part of The Two Towers, to mixed reviews. [106]  In 1980, Rankin/Bass released an animated TV special based on the closing chapters of The Return of the King, gaining mixed reviews. [107]   [108] 
In Finland, a live action television miniseries,  Hobitit , was broadcast in 1993 based on The Lord of the Rings, with a flashback to Bilbo's encounter with Gollum in The Hobbit. [109]   [110] 
 A far more successful adaptation was Peter Jackson's live action  The Lord of the Rings film trilogy, produced by New Line Cinema and released in three instalments as  The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring  (2001),  The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers  (2002), and  The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King  (2003). All three parts won multiple Academy Awards, including consecutive Best Picture nominations. The final instalment of this trilogy was the second film to break the one-billion-dollar barrier and won a total of 11 Oscars (something only two other films in history,  Ben-Hur  and  Titanic , have accomplished), including Best Picture, Best Director and Best Adapted Screenplay. [111]   [112]  Commentators including Tolkien scholars, literary critics and film critics are divided on how faithfully Jackson adapted Tolkien's work, or whether a film version is inevitably different, and if so the reasons for any changes, and the effectiveness of the result. [113] 
   The Hunt for Gollum , a 2009 film by Chris Bouchard, [114]   [115]  and the 2009  Born of Hope , written by Paula DiSante and directed by Kate Madison, are fan films based on details in the appendices of The Lord of the Rings. [116] 
 From September 2022, Amazon is presenting a multi-season television series of stories,  The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power . It is set at the beginning of the Second Age, long before the time of The Lord of the Rings, based on materials in the novel's appendices. [117]   [118]   [119] 
Audiobooks[edit]
In 1990, Recorded Books published an audio version of The Lord of the Rings, [120]  read by the British actor Rob Inglis. A large-scale musical theatre adaptation,  The Lord of the Rings , was first staged in Toronto, Ontario, Canada in 2006 and opened in London in June 2007; it was a commercial failure. [121] 
 In 2013, artist Phil Dragash recorded a full unabridged version of the book, using score from Peter Jackson's movies. [122]   [123]   [124] 
 During the COVID-19 lockdown, Andy Serkis read the entire book of  The Hobbit  to raise money for charity. [125]  He then recorded the work again as an audiobook. [126]   [127]  The cover art was done by Alan Lee. In 2021, Serkis recorded The Lord of the Rings novels. [128] 
Legacy[edit]
Influence on fantasy[edit]
The enormous popularity of Tolkien's work expanded the demand for fantasy. Largely thanks to The Lord of the Rings, the genre flowered throughout the 1960s and enjoys popularity to the present day. [129]  The opus has spawned many imitations, such as  The Sword of Shannara , which Lin Carter called "the single most cold-blooded, complete rip-off of another book that I have ever read," [130]  as well as alternate interpretations of the story, such as  The Last Ringbearer .
 The Legend of Zelda , which popularized the action-adventure game genre in the 1980s, was inspired by The Lord of the Rings among other fantasy books. [131]   [132]   Dungeons &amp; Dragons , which popularized the role-playing game genre in the 1970s, features several races from The Lord of the Rings, including halflings (hobbits), elves, dwarves, half-elves, orcs, and dragons. However, Gary Gygax, lead designer of the game, maintained that he was influenced very little by The Lord of the Rings, stating that he included these elements as a marketing move to draw on the popularity the work enjoyed at the time he was developing the game. [133] 
Because Dungeons &amp; Dragons has gone on to influence many popular games, especially role-playing video games, the influence of The Lord of the Rings extends to many of them, with titles such as  Dragon Quest , [134]   [135]   EverQuest , the  Warcraft  series, and  The Elder Scrolls  series of games [136]  as well as video games set in Middle-earth itself.
Music[edit]
In 1965, the songwriter Donald Swann, best known for his collaboration with Michael Flanders as Flanders &amp; Swann, set six poems from The Lord of the Rings and one from  The Adventures of Tom Bombadil  ("Errantry") to music. When Swann met with Tolkien to play the songs for his approval, Tolkien suggested for "Namárië" (Galadriel's lament) a setting reminiscent of plain chant, which Swann accepted. [137]  The songs were published in 1967 as  The Road Goes Ever On: A Song Cycle , [138]  and a recording of the songs performed by singer William Elvin with Swann on piano was issued that same year by Caedmon Records as Poems and Songs of Middle Earth. [139] 
 Rock bands of the 1970s were musically and lyrically inspired by the fantasy-embracing counter-culture of the time. The British rock band Led Zeppelin recorded several songs that contain explicit references to The Lord of the Rings, such as mentioning Gollum and Mordor in "Ramble On", the Misty Mountains in "Misty Mountain Hop", and Ringwraiths in "The Battle of Evermore". In 1970, the Swedish musician Bo Hansson released an instrumental concept album entitled Sagan om ringen ("The Saga of the Ring", the title of the Swedish translation at the time). [140]  The album was subsequently released internationally as  Music Inspired by Lord of the Rings  in 1972. [140]  From the 1980s onwards, many heavy metal acts have been influenced by Tolkien. [141] 
 In 1988, the Dutch composer and trombonist Johan de Meij completed his  Symphony No. 1 "The Lord of the Rings" . It had 5 movements, titled "Gandalf", "Lothlórien", "Gollum", "Journey in the Dark", and "Hobbits". [142] 
 The 1991 album  Shepherd Moons  by the Irish musician Enya contains an instrumental titled "Lothlórien", in reference to the home of the wood-elves. [143] 
Impact on popular culture[edit]
     
 The Lord of the Rings has had a profound and wide-ranging impact on popular culture, beginning with its publication in the 1950s, but especially during the 1960s and 1970s, when young people embraced it as a countercultural saga. [144]  "Frodo Lives!" and "Gandalf for President" were two phrases popular amongst United States Tolkien fans during this time. [145]  Its impact is such that the words "Tolkienian" and "Tolkienesque" have entered the  Oxford English Dictionary , and many of his fantasy terms, formerly little-known in English, such as "Orc" and "Warg", have become widespread in that domain. [146] 
Among its effects are numerous parodies, especially  Harvard Lampoon 's  Bored of the Rings , which has had the distinction of remaining continuously in print from its publication in 1969, and of being translated into at least 11 languages. [147] 
 In 1969, Tolkien sold the merchandising rights to The Lord of The Rings (and The Hobbit) to United Artists under an agreement stipulating a lump sum payment of £10,000 [148]  plus a 7.5% royalty after costs, [149]  payable to Allen &amp; Unwin and the author. [150]  In 1976, three years after the author's death, United Artists sold the rights to Saul Zaentz Company, who now trade as Tolkien Enterprises. Since then all "authorised" merchandise has been signed off by Tolkien Enterprises, although the intellectual property rights of the specific likenesses of characters and other imagery from various adaptations is generally held by the adaptors. [151] 
 Outside commercial exploitation from adaptations, from the late 1960s onwards there has been an increasing variety of original licensed merchandise, with posters and calendars created by illustrators such as Barbara Remington. [152] 
 The work was named Britain's best novel of all time in the BBC's The Big Read. [153]  In 2015, the BBC ranked The Lord of the Rings 26th on its list of the 100 greatest British novels. [154]  It was included in  Le Monde 's list of "100 Books of the Century". [155] 
Notes[edit]
 
  ^  J. R. R. Tolkien did not like it when the word "novel" was used to describe his works, but the term is commonly applied. He preferred the phrase "heroic romance". [T 1] 
  ^  Tolkien has the wizard Gandalf say to the hobbit Frodo "the Black Riders are the Ringwraiths, the Nine Servants of the Lord of the Rings." [T 2] 
^    a       b    At least 38 languages are listed at the FAQ. This number is a conservative estimate; some 56 translations are listed at translations of The Lord of the Rings , and 57 languages are listed at Elrond's Library.
  ^  Although Frodo refers to Bilbo as his "uncle", the character is introduced in "A Long-expected Party" as one of Bilbo's younger cousins. The two were in fact first and second cousins, once removed either way (his paternal great-great-uncle's son's son and his maternal great-aunt's son).
  ^  Tolkien created the word to define a different view of myth from C. S. Lewis's "lies breathed through silver", writing the poem  Mythopoeia  to present his argument; it was first published in  Tree and Leaf  in 1988. [9] 
  ^  See the lead images in the articles on the three separate volumes, e.g. The Fellowship of the Ring.
 
References[edit]
Primary[edit]
 
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #329 to Peter Szabo Szentmihalyi, October 1971
  ^   Tolkien, J. R. R. (1954a).  The Fellowship of the Ring .  The Lord of the Rings . Boston: Houghton Mifflin. OCLC 9552942. book 2, ch. 1 "Many Meetings"
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #126 to Milton Waldman (draft), 10 March 1950
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #17 to Stanley Unwin, 15 October 1937
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #144 to Naomi Mitchison, 25 April 1954
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #141 to Allen &amp; Unwin, 9 October 1953
  ^  Tolkien 1997, pp. 162–197 "English and Welsh"
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #142 to Robert Murray, S. J., 2 December 1953
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #165 to Houghton Mifflin, 30 June 1955
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #19 to Stanley Unwin, 31 December 1960
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #178 to Allen &amp; Unwin, 12 December 1955, and #303 to Nicholas Thomas, 6 May 1968
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #211 to Rhona Beare, 14 October 1958
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #140 to Rayner Unwin, 17 August 1953
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #143 to Rayner Unwin, 22 January 1954
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #163 to W. H. Auden, 7 June 1955
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #149 to Rayner Unwin, 9 September 1954
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #239 to Peter Szabo Szentmihalyi, draft, October 1971
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letters #270, #273 and #277
  ^  Tolkien, J. R. R. (2004). The Lord of the Rings 50th Anniversary Edition. HarperCollins. ISBN  978-0-261-10320-7 . This special 50th anniversary hardback edition of J. R. R. Tolkien's classic masterpiece includes the complete revised and reset text, two-fold out maps printed in red and black and, unique to this edition, a full-colour fold-out reproduction of Tolkien's own facsimile pages from the Book of Mazarbul that the Fellowship discover in Moria. 
  ^  Carpenter 1981, letters #228 and #229 to Allen &amp; Unwin, 24 January 1961 and 23 February 1961
 
Secondary[edit]
 
  ^   Chance, Jane (1980) [1979]. The Lord of the Rings: Tolkien's Epic. Tolkien's Art: A Mythology for England. Macmillan. pp. 97–127. ISBN  0-333-29034-8 .
^    a       b    Wagner, Vit (16 April 2007). "Tolkien proves he's still the king".  Toronto Star . Archived from the original on 9 March 2011. Retrieved 8 March 2011.
^    a       b    Reynolds, Pat. "The Lord of the Rings: The Tale of a Text" (PDF). The Tolkien Society. Archived from the original (PDF) on 3 March 2016. Retrieved 24 October 2015.
  ^   "The Life and Works for JRR Tolkien". BBC. 7 February 2002. Archived from the original on 1 November 2010. Retrieved 4 December 2010.
  ^  Gilsdorf, Ethan (23 March 2007). "Elvish Impersonators".  The New York Times . Archived from the original on 5 December 2007. Retrieved 3 April 2007.
  ^  Hooker, Mark T. (2006). The Feigned-manuscript Topos. A Tolkienian Mathomium: a collection of articles on J. R. R. Tolkien and his legendarium. Llyfrawr. pp. 176–177. ISBN  978-1-4382-4631-4 .
  ^  Bowman, Mary R. (October 2006). "The Story Was Already Written: Narrative Theory in "The Lord of the Rings"". Narrative. 14 (3): 272–293. doi:10.1353/nar.2006.0010. JSTOR 20107391. S2CID 162244172. the frame of the Red Book of Westmarch, which becomes one of the major structural devices Tolkien uses to invite meta-fictional reflection... He claims, in essence, that the story was already written... 
^    a       b       c    Doughan, David. "J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch". TolkienSociety.org. Archived from the original on 3 March 2006. Retrieved 16 June 2006.
  ^   Hammond, Wayne G.; Scull, Christina (2006).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Companion and Guide: II. Reader's Guide . HarperCollins. pp. 620–622. ISBN  978-0-00-821453-1 .
^    a       b       c       d       e       f       g       h       i    Carpenter 1977, pp. 187–208
  ^  Carpenter 1977, p. 195.
  ^  Rérolle, Raphaëlle (5 December 2012). "My Father's 'Eviscerated' Work – Son Of Hobbit Scribe J. R. R. Tolkien Finally Speaks Out".  Le Monde/Worldcrunch. Archived from the original on 10 February 2013.
  ^   "J. R. R. Tolkien Collection: Marquette Archives | Raynor Memorial Libraries | Marquette University". Archived from the original on 19 December 2013.
^    a       b    Kullmann, Thomas (2013). "Poetic Insertions in Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings".  Connotations: A Journal for Critical Debate . 23 (2): 283–309. Archived from the original on 8 November 2018. Retrieved 15 May 2020.
  ^  Higgins, Andrew (2014). "Tolkien's Poetry (2013), edited by Julian Eilmann and Allan Turner". Journal of Tolkien Research. 1 (1). Article 4. Archived from the original on 1 August 2019. Retrieved 15 May 2020.
  ^   Straubhaar, Sandra Ballif (2005). "Gilraen's Linnod : Function, Genre, Prototypes". Journal of Tolkien Studies. 2 (1): 235–244. doi:10.1353/tks.2005.0032. ISSN 1547-3163. S2CID 170378314.
  ^   Zimmer, Paul Edwin (1993). "Another Opinion of 'The Verse of J. R. R. Tolkien'".  Mythlore . 19 (2). Article 2.
  ^  Holmes, John R. (2013) [2007]. "Art and Illustrations by Tolkien". In Drout, Michael D. C. (ed.).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia . Routledge. pp. 27–32. ISBN  978-0-415-86511-1 .
^    a       b    Carmel, Julia (15 February 2020). "Barbara Remington, Illustrator of Tolkien Book Covers, Dies at 90".  The New York Times . Retrieved 4 September 2020.
^    a       b     Shippey, Tom (2005) [1982]. The Road to Middle-earth (Third ed.). HarperCollins. pp. 74, 169–170 and passim. ISBN  978-0-261-10275-0 .
^    a       b     Lee, Stuart D.; Solopova, Elizabeth (2005). The Keys of Middle-earth: Discovering Medieval Literature Through the Fiction of J. R. R. Tolkien. Palgrave. pp. 124–125. ISBN  978-1-4039-4671-3 .
  ^  Anger, Don N. (2013) [2007]. "Report on the Excavation of the Prehistoric, Roman and Post-Roman Site in Lydney Park, Gloucestershire". In Drout, Michael D. C. (ed.).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia . Routledge. pp. 563–564. ISBN  978-0-415-86511-1 .
  ^  Noble Smith (2013). "Chapter 5: Dealing with "the Big People"". The Wisdom of the Shire: A Short Guide to a Long and Happy Life. St. Martin's Griffin. p. 46. ISBN  978-1250038296 .
  ^   Burns, Marjorie (2005). Perilous Realms: Celtic and Norse in Tolkien's Middle-earth. University of Toronto Press. pp. 13–29 and passim. ISBN  978-0-8020-3806-7 .
  ^  Handwerk, Brian (1 March 2004). "Lord of the Rings Inspired by an Ancient Epic". National Geographic News. National Geographic Society. pp. 1–2. Archived from the original on 16 March 2006. Retrieved 4 October 2006.
  ^  Kuzmenko, Dmitry. "Slavic echoes in the works of J. R. R. Tolkien" (in Ukrainian). Archived from the original on 25 April 2012. Retrieved 6 November 2011.
  ^  Stanton, Michael (2001). Hobbits, Elves, and Wizards: Exploring the Wonders and Worlds of J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. Palgrave Macmillan. p. 18. ISBN  1-4039-6025-9 .
  ^  Resnick, Henry (1967). "An Interview with Tolkien".  Niekas : 37–47.
  ^  Nelson, Dale (2013) [2007]. "Literary Influences, Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries". In Drout, Michael D. C. (ed.).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia . Routledge. pp. 366–377. ISBN  978-0-415-86511-1 .
  ^  Hooker, Mark T. (2011). Fisher, Jason (ed.). Reading John Buchan in Search of Tolkien. Tolkien and the study of his sources : critical essays. McFarland. pp. 162–192. ISBN  978-0-7864-6482-1 . OCLC 731009810.
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  ^  Livingston, Michael (2006). "The Shellshocked Hobbit: The First World War and Tolkien's Trauma of the Ring".  Mythlore . Mythopoeic Society. pp. 77–92. Archived from the original on 23 December 2011. Retrieved 3 June 2011.
  ^  Ahmed, Ali Arslan (8 May 2020). "How War Inspired JRR Tolkien To Write Lord Of The Rings". Dankanator.
  ^  Campbell, Lori M. (2010).  Portals of Power: Magical Agency and Transformation in Literary Fantasy . McFarland. p. 161. ISBN  978-0-7864-5655-0 .
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  ^  Carpenter 1977, pp. 211 ff..
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  ^  "The second part is called The Two Towers, since the events recounted in it are dominated by Orthanc, ..., and the fortress of Minas Morgul..."
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  ^  Carpenter 1981, letter #137, #140, #143 all to Rayner Unwin, his publisher, in 1953-4
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^    a       b    Reynolds, Pat. "The Lord of the Rings: The Tale of a Text". The Tolkien Society. Archived from the original on 8 September 2006.
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  ^   "Lord of the Rings Comparison". 21 December 2014. Archived from the original on 7 October 2017.
  ^   Tolkien, Christopher (2002) [1988–1992].  The History of the Lord of the Rings: Box Set (The History of Middle-earth). HarperCollins. ISBN  978-0-261-10370-2 . OCLC 43216229.
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^    a       b     "The Lord of the Rings Boxed Set (Lord of the Rings Trilogy Series) section: Editorial reviews". Archived from the original on 10 December 2010. Retrieved 4 December 2010.
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  ^  Drout 2006, p. 15
  ^  See also interview in "Show" magazine vol. 1, Number 1 1970
  ^  Bramwell, Tony (2014). Magical Mystery Tours: My Life with the Beatles. Pavilion Books. p. 70. ISBN  978-1-910232-16-3 .
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  ^  "Yle teettää oman sovituksen Taru sormusten herrasta-sadusta" [Yle to produce its own version of the tale of The Lord of the Rings].  Helsingin Sanomat  (in Finnish). 18 June 1991.
  ^  Kajava, Jukka (29 March 1993). "Tolkienin taruista on tehty tv-sarja: Hobitien ilme syntyi jo Ryhmäteatterin Suomenlinnan tulkinnassa" [Tolkien's tales have been turned into a TV series: The Hobbits have been brought to live in the Ryhmäteatteri theatre].  Helsingin Sanomat  (in Finnish). (subscription required)
  ^  Rosenberg, Adam (14 January 2016). "'Star Wars' ties 'Lord of the Rings' with 30 Oscar nominations, the most for any series".  Mashable . Archived from the original on 12 May 2019. Retrieved 1 July 2019.
  ^  The Return of the King peak positions
 U.S. and Canada:  "All Time Domestic Box Office".  Box Office Mojo . Archived from the original on 4 June 2004. 
Worldwide:  "All Time Worldwide Box Office".  Box Office Mojo . Archived from the original on 5 June 2004.  
  ^  Bogstad, Janice M.; Kaveny, Philip E. (2011).  Introduction . Picturing Tolkien: Essays on Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings Film Trilogy. McFarland. pp. 5–23. ISBN  978-0-7864-8473-7 .
  ^  Masters, Tim (30 April 2009). "Making Middle-earth on a shoestring". BBC News. BBC. Archived from the original on 3 May 2009. Retrieved 1 May 2009.
  ^   Sydell, Laura (30 April 2009). "High-Def 'Hunt For Gollum' New Lord of the Fanvids".  All Things Considered . NPR. Archived from the original on 3 May 2009. Retrieved 1 May 2009.
  ^  Lamont, Tom (7 March 2010). "Born of Hope – and a lot of charity".  The Guardian . Archived from the original on 5 January 2015. Retrieved 5 January 2015.
  ^  Axon, Samuel (13 November 2017). "Amazon will run a multi-season Lord of the Rings prequel TV series".  Ars Technica . Archived from the original on 14 November 2017.
  ^  @LOTRonPrime (7 March 2019). "Welcome to the Second Age:amazon.com/lotronprime" (Tweet). Archived from the original on 10 February 2020. Retrieved 24 March 2020 – via Twitter.
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  ^  Inglis, Rob (narrator) (1990). The Lord of the Rings. Recorded Books. ISBN  1-4025-1627-4 .
  ^   "The fastest West End flops – in pictures".  The Guardian . Retrieved 29 April 2017.
  ^   "Phil Dragash". Phil Dragash. Retrieved 11 March 2022.
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  ^   "Coronavirus: Andy Serkis reads entire Hobbit live online for charity". BBC News. 9 May 2020.
  ^    Audible.com | Try Audible Free Today .
  ^    The Hobbit  – via www.audible.com.
  ^   "Andy Serkis records Lord of the Rings audiobooks for HarperCollins | The Bookseller". www.thebookseller.com. Retrieved 7 September 2021.
  ^   Fimi, Dimitra (2020) [2014]. "Later Fantasy Fiction: Tolkien's Legacy". In Lee, Stuart D. (ed.). A Companion to J. R. R. Tolkien. Wiley Blackwell. pp. 335–349. ISBN  978-1119656029 .
  ^   Carter, Lin (1978).  The Year's Best Fantasy Stories: 4 . DAW Books. pp. 207–208.
  ^  "Classic: Zelda und Link" [Classic: Zelda and Link].  Club Nintendo  (in German). Vol. 1996, no. 2. Nintendo of Europe. April 1996. p. 72. [The two program designers Shigeru Miyamoto and Takashi Tezuka were responsible for the game, who set themselves the goal of developing a fairytale adventure game with action elements... ...Takashi Tezuka, a great lover of fantasy novels such as Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, wrote the script for the first two games in the Zelda series]. 
  ^   "Shigeru Miyamoto Interview". Super PLAY (in Swedish). Medströms Dataförlag AB (4/03). March 2003. Archived from the original on 7 September 2006. Retrieved 24 September 2006. All ideas for The legend of Zelda were mine and Takashi Tezukas... ...Books, movies and our own lives. 
  ^  Gygax, Gary. "Gary Gygax – Creator of Dungeons &amp; Dragons". The One Ring.net. Archived from the original on 27 June 2006. Retrieved 28 May 2006.
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  ^  Tolkien had recorded a version of his theme on a friend's tape recorder in 1952. This was later issued by Caedmon Records in 1975 as part of J. R. R. Tolkien reads and sings The Lord of the Rings (LP recording TC1478).
  ^  Tolkien, J. R. R.; Swann, Donald (1967).   The Road Goes Ever On: A Song Cycle  . Ballantine Books.
  ^  Tolkien, J. R. R.; Swann, Donald (1967).  Poems and Songs of Middle Earth  (LP recording). Caedmon Records. TC1231/TC91231.
^    a       b    Snider, Charles (2008). The Strawberry Bricks Guide to Progressive Rock. Strawberry Bricks. pp. 120–121. ISBN  978-0-615-17566-9 .
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  ^  Feist, Raymond (2001). Meditations on Middle-earth. St. Martin's Press. ISBN  0-312-30290-8 .
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Sources[edit]
   Carpenter, Humphrey (1977).  J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography . New York: Ballantine Books. ISBN  978-0-04-928037-3 . 
  Carpenter, Humphrey, ed. (1981).  The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien . Boston: Houghton Mifflin. ISBN  978-0-395-31555-2 . 
  Drout, Michael D. C. (2006).  The J. R. R. Tolkien Encyclopedia . Routledge. ISBN  978-0-415-96942-0 . 
  Hammond, Wayne G.; Scull, Christina (2005).  The Lord of the Rings: A Reader's Companion . Houghton Mifflin Co. ISBN  978-0-00-720907-1 . 
 Tolkien, Christopher (ed.) (1988–1992).  The History of The Lord of the Rings , 4 vols.
  Tolkien, J. R. R. (1997).  The Monsters and the Critics, and Other Essays . HarperCollins. ISBN  978-0-261-10263-7 .  
External links[edit]
  Tolkien website of Harper Collins (the British publisher)
 Tolkien website of Houghton Mifflin Archived 24 April 2021 at the Wayback Machine (the American publisher)
 Lord of the Rings, The Archived 2 June 2021 at the Wayback Machine at the Encyclopedia of Fantasy
The Lord of the Rings - Wikipedia
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings
https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings
The Lord of the Rings
2023-01-30
None
<div><div><p><a href="/wiki/LOTR:Featured_article"></a></p>
<figure> 	<a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/d/db/51eq24cRtRL._SX331_BO1%2C204%2C203%2C200_.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20200608002334"></a> 	 	<figcaption> 	 	<a href="/wiki/File:51eq24cRtRL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg"></a> 	 	 	 	<p>Cover of the 50th Anniversary One-Volume Edition</p> 	 	</figcaption> </figure>
<figure> 	<a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/a/af/Amazon-com-The_Lord_of_the_Rings_%28One-Volume%29-TRoP_tie-in.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20220905000224"></a> 	 	<figcaption> 	 	<a href="/wiki/File:Amazon-com-The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(One-Volume)-TRoP_tie-in.jpg"></a> 	 	 	 	<p>Cover of the <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Rings_of_Power"><i>The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power</i></a> tie-in One-Volume Edition</p> 	 	</figcaption> </figure>
<p><i><b>The Lord of the Rings</b></i> is an epic <a href="/wiki/High_fantasy">high fantasy</a> novel written by <a href="/wiki/J.R.R._Tolkien">J.R.R. Tolkien</a>, which was later fitted as a trilogy. The story began as a sequel to Tolkien's earlier fantasy book <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i>, and soon developed into a much larger story. At publication, it was divided into <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(novel)">The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i>, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers_(novel)">The Two Towers</a></i>, and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(novel)">The Return of the King</a>.</i>
</p><p>Written in stages between 1937 and 1949, with much of it during World War II<sup><a href="#cite_note-1">[1]</a></sup>, it was originally published in three volumes in 1954 and 1955. It has since been reprinted numerous times and translated into at least 38 different languages<sup><a href="#cite_note-2">[2]</a></sup>, becoming one of the most popular works of twentieth-century literature.
</p><p>The action in <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> is set in what the author conceived to be the lands of the real Earth, inhabited by humanity but placed in a fictional past, before familiar history but after the fall of his version of Atlantis, <a href="/wiki/N%C3%BAmenor">Númenor</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-3">[3]</a></sup> Tolkien gave this setting a modern English name, <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a>, a rendering of the <a href="/wiki/Old_English">Old English</a> <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middangeard">Middangeard</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-4">[4]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Main conflict</h2>
<p>The story concerns peoples such as <a href="/wiki/Hobbits">Hobbits</a>, <a href="/wiki/Elves">Elves</a>, <a href="/wiki/Men">Men</a>, <a href="/wiki/Dwarves">Dwarves</a>, <a href="/wiki/Wizards">Wizards</a>, and <a href="/wiki/Orcs">Orcs</a> (called <a href="/wiki/Goblins">goblins</a> in <i>The Hobbit</i>), and centers on the <a href="/wiki/One_Ring">Ring of Power</a> made by the <a href="/wiki/Dark_Lord">Dark Lord</a> <a href="/wiki/Sauron">Sauron</a>. Starting from quiet beginnings in the <a href="/wiki/Shire">Shire</a>, the story ranges across Middle-earth and follows the courses of the <a href="/wiki/War_of_the_Ring">War of the Ring</a>. The main story is followed by six appendices that provide a wealth of historical and linguistic background material,<sup><a href="#cite_note-5">[5]</a></sup> as well as an index listing every character, place, <a href="/wiki/Songs_and_Verses">song</a>, and sword.
</p><p>Along with Tolkien's other writings, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has been subjected to extensive analysis of its literary themes and origins. Although a major work in itself, the story is merely the last movement of a larger <a href="/wiki/Mythology">mythological</a> cycle, or legendarium, that Tolkien had worked on for many years since 1917.<sup><a href="#cite_note-6">[6]</a></sup> Influences on this earlier work, and on the story of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, include <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philology">philology</a>, <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_Mythology">mythology</a> and religion, as well as earlier fantasy works and Tolkien's experiences in <a href="/wiki/World_War_I">World War I</a>. <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> in its turn is considered to have had a great impact on modern fantasy, and the impact of Tolkien's works is such that the use of the words "Tolkienian" and "Tolkienesque" have been recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary.<sup><a href="#cite_note-7">[7]</a></sup>
</p><p>The immense and enduring popularity of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has led to <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_popular_culture">numerous references in popular culture</a>, the founding of many societies by <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_fandom">fans of Tolkien's works</a>, and a large number of books about Tolkien and his works being published. <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has inspired (and continues to inspire) short stories, <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_video_games">video games</a>, artworks and musical works (see <a href="/wiki/Works_inspired_by_J._R._R._Tolkien">Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien</a>). Numerous adaptations of Tolkien's works have been made for a wide range of media. <a href="/wiki/Adaptations_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">Adaptations of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i></a> in particular have been made for the radio, for the theatre, and for film. The 2001–2003 release of <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_film_trilogy"><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> film trilogy</a> saw a surge of interest in <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and Tolkien's other works.<sup><a href="#cite_note-surge-8">[8]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Backstory</h2>
<p>The back story begins thousands of years before the action in the book, with the rise of the eponymous Lord of the Rings, the Dark Lord <a href="/wiki/Sauron">Sauron</a>, a malevolent reincarnated deity who possessed great supernatural powers and who later became the ruler of the dreaded realm of <a href="/wiki/Mordor">Mordor</a>. At the end of the <a href="/wiki/First_Age">First Age</a> of Middle-earth, Sauron survived the catastrophic defeat and chaining of his lord, the ultimate Dark Lord, <a href="/wiki/Melkor">Morgoth</a> (who was formerly counted as one of the <a href="/wiki/Valar">Valar</a>, the angelic <i>Powers</i> of the <a href="/wiki/Arda">world</a>). During the <a href="/wiki/Second_Age">Second Age</a>, Sauron schemed to gain dominion over Middle-earth. In the disguise as "Annatar" or <i>Lord of Gifts</i>, he aided <a href="/wiki/Celebrimbor">Celebrimbor</a> and other <a href="/wiki/Gwaith-i-M%C3%ADrdain">Elven-smiths</a> of <a href="/wiki/Eregion">Eregion</a> in the forging of magical <a href="/wiki/Rings_of_Power">Rings of Power</a> which conferred various powers and effects on their wearers. The most important of these were the Nine, the Seven and the Three (which he did not touch or know of the three.) called the <i>Rings of Power</i> or <i>Great Rings</i>.
</p><p>However, he then secretly forged a Great Ring of his own, the <a href="/wiki/One_Ring">One Ring</a>, by which he planned to enslave the wearers of the other Rings of Power. This plan failed when the Elves became aware of him and took off their Rings. Sauron then launched a <a href="/wiki/War_of_the_Elves_and_Sauron">war</a> during which he captured sixteen and distributed them to lords and kings of Dwarves and Men; these Rings were known as the Seven and Nine respectively. The Dwarf-lords proved too tough to be enslaved, although their natural desire for wealth, especially gold, increased; this brought more conflict between them and other races, and fed a dangerous greed. The Men who received the Nine rings were slowly corrupted over time and eventually became the <i><a href="/wiki/Nazg%C3%BBl">Nazgûl</a></i>, Sauron's most feared servants. The Three Rings Sauron failed to capture, and remained in the possession of the Elves (who forged these independently). The war ended as Men of the island-kingdom of <a href="/wiki/N%C3%BAmenor">Númenor</a> helped the besieged Elves, and Sauron's forces were practically destroyed. At this time he still held most of Middle-earth, excluding the coasts, Imladris (<a href="/wiki/Rivendell">Rivendell</a>) and the <a href="/wiki/Gulf_of_Lune">Gulf of Lune</a>.
</p>
<figure> 	<a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/6/68/NumenorEN.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20070102112034"></a> 	 	<figcaption> 	 	<a href="/wiki/File:NumenorEN.jpg"></a> 	 	 	 	<p>A map of <a href="/wiki/N%C3%BAmenor">Númenor</a> (called <i>Andor</i> by the Elves)</p> 	 	</figcaption> </figure>
<p>Over 1500 years later, word reached the <a href="/wiki/Kings_of_N%C3%BAmenor">King of Númenor</a>, <a href="/wiki/Ar-Pharaz%C3%B4n">Ar-Pharazôn</a>, that Sauron had claimed the title "King of Men". This provoked Ar-Pharazôn and gave him an opportunity to display the glory and strength of Númenor. He arrived in Middle-earth with such overwhelming force that Sauron's armies fled at the sight of the <a href="/wiki/N%C3%BAmen%C3%B3reans">Númenóreans</a>. Abandoned by his minions, Sauron surrendered to the Númenóreans, and was taken to Númenor as a "prisoner". Sauron then started to poison the minds of the Númenóreans against the Valar. Thus, Sauron set into motion events that brought about Númenor's destruction. He did this by corrupting the King's mind, telling him that the immortality of the Elves was his to take if he set foot upon the lands of <a href="/wiki/Aman">Aman</a>, the <i>Blessed Realm</i>, where <a href="/wiki/Valinor">Valinor</a>, the realm of the Valar, was located. Fearing death, Ar-Pharazôn led an invasion of Aman and Valinor with the greatest host seen since the <a href="/wiki/War_of_Wrath">end of the First Age</a>. However, upon reaching Aman, he and his army were buried by a landslide, and there they would remain until the <a href="/wiki/Dagor_Dagorath">Final Battle</a> in Tolkien's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eschatology">eschatology</a>. <a href="/wiki/Manw%C3%AB">Manwë</a>, the King of Arda, called upon <a href="/wiki/Eru_Il%C3%BAvatar">Eru Ilúvatar</a> (God), who opened a great chasm in the sea, destroying Númenor, and removed the Undying Lands from the mortal world. The destruction of Númenor destroyed Sauron's physical body and his ability to take a fair and handsome shape, but his spirit returned to Mordor and assumed a new form: black, "burning hot", and terrible.
</p><p>Over 100 years later, he launched an attack against the Númenórean exiles (<a href="/wiki/The_Faithful">The Faithful</a>, who did not join Ar-Pharazôn's expedition), who managed to escape to Middle-earth. However, the exiles (led by <a href="/wiki/Elendil">Elendil</a> and his sons <a href="/wiki/Isildur">Isildur</a> and <a href="/wiki/An%C3%A1rion">Anárion</a>) had time to prepare, and, after forming the <a href="/wiki/Last_Alliance_of_Elves_and_Men">Last Alliance of Elves and Men</a> with the Elven-king <a href="/wiki/Gil-galad">Gil-galad</a>, they marched against Mordor, defeated Sauron on the plain of <a href="/wiki/Dagorlad">Dagorlad</a>, and besieged <a href="/wiki/Barad-d%C3%BBr">Barad-dûr</a>, at which time Anárion was slain. After seven years of siege, Sauron himself was ultimately forced to engage in single combat with the leaders. Gil-galad and Elendil perished in the struggle, and Elendil's sword, <a href="/wiki/Narsil">Narsil</a>, broke beneath him. However, Sauron's body was also overcome and slain,<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-3">[3]</a></sup> and Isildur cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand with the hilt-shard of Narsil, and at this Sauron's spirit fled and he did not reappear for a millenium. Isildur was advised to destroy the One Ring by the only way it could be — by casting it into the volcanic <a href="/wiki/Mount_Doom">Mount Doom</a> where it was forged — but he refused, attracted to its beauty and kept it as compensation for the deaths of his father and brother (weregild).
</p><p>So began the <a href="/wiki/Third_Age">Third Age</a> of the Sun. Two years later, while journeying to <a href="/wiki/Rivendell">Rivendell</a>, Isildur and his soldiers were ambushed by a band of Orcs at the <a href="/wiki/Disaster_of_the_Gladden_Fields">Disaster of the Gladden Fields</a>. While the latter were almost all killed, Isildur escaped by putting on the Ring — which made mortal wearers invisible. However, the Ring slipped from his finger while he was swimming in the great River <a href="/wiki/Anduin">Anduin</a>; he was killed by Orc-arrows and the Ring was lost for two millennia. It was then found by chance by a <a href="/wiki/Stoors">Stoor</a> named <a href="/wiki/D%C3%A9agol">Déagol</a>. His relative and friend<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-3">[3]</a></sup> <a href="/wiki/Gollum">Sméagol</a> strangled him for the Ring and was banished from his home by his maternal grandmother. He fled to the <a href="/wiki/Misty_Mountains">Misty Mountains</a> where he slowly withered and became a disgusting, slimy creature called Gollum.
</p><p>In <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a>,</i> set 60 years before the events in <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> Tolkien relates the story of the seemingly accidental finding of the Ring by another hobbit, <a href="/wiki/Bilbo_Baggins">Bilbo Baggins</a>, who takes it to his home, <a href="/wiki/Bag_End">Bag End</a>. Story-externally, the tale related in <i>The Hobbit</i> was written before <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, and it was only later that the author developed Bilbo's magic ring into the "One Ring." Neither Bilbo nor the wizard, <a href="/wiki/Gandalf">Gandalf</a>, are aware at this point that Bilbo's magic ring is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron.
</p>
<h2>Synopsis</h2>
<figure> 	<a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/5/59/Middle-earth.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20060726004750"></a> 	 	<figcaption> 	 	<a href="/wiki/File:Middle-earth.jpg"></a> 	 	 	 	<p><a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a> during the <a href="/wiki/Third_Age">Third Age</a></p> 	 	</figcaption> </figure>
<p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> takes up the story about 60 years after the end of <i>The Hobbit.</i> The story begins in the first volume, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(novel)">The Fellowship of the Ring</a>,</i> when <a href="/wiki/Frodo_Baggins">Frodo Baggins</a>, Bilbo's adoptive heir, came into possession of Bilbo's magic ring. Bilbo's old friend, <a href="/wiki/Gandalf">Gandalf the Grey</a>, who got Bilbo involved in the adventures in <i>The Hobbit</i> that led to the discovery of the Ring, discovered that it was in fact the <a href="/wiki/One_Ring">One Ring</a>, the instrument of Sauron's power and the object for which the Dark Lord has been searching for most of the Third Age, and which corrupted others with desire for it and the power it held.
</p><p>Sauron sent the sinister <a href="/wiki/Nazg%C3%BBl">Nazgûl</a>, in the guise of riders in black, to the <a href="/wiki/Shire">Shire</a>, Frodo's native land, in search of the Ring. Frodo escaped, with the help of his loyal gardener <a href="/wiki/Samwise_Gamgee">Samwise Gamgee</a> and three close friends, <a href="/wiki/Meriadoc_Brandybuck">Meriadoc Brandybuck</a>, <a href="/wiki/Peregrin_Took">Peregrin Took</a>, and <a href="/wiki/Fredegar_Bolger">Fredegar Bolger</a>. While Fredegar acted as decoy for the Ringwraiths, Frodo and the others set off to take the Ring to the Elven haven of <a href="/wiki/Rivendell">Rivendell</a>. They were aided by the enigmatic <a href="/wiki/Tom_Bombadil">Tom Bombadil</a>, who saved them from <a href="/wiki/Old_Man_Willow">Old Man Willow</a> and took them in for a few days of feasting, rest, and counsel. At the town of <a href="/wiki/Bree">Bree</a>, Frodo's party was joined by a man called "Strider", who was revealed, in a letter left by Gandalf at the <a href="/wiki/The_Prancing_Pony">local inn</a> for Frodo, to be <a href="/wiki/Aragorn_II_Elessar">Aragorn</a>, the heir to the thrones of <a href="/wiki/Gondor">Gondor</a> and <a href="/wiki/Arnor">Arnor</a>, two great realms founded by the Númenórean exiles. Aragorn led the hobbits to Rivendell on Gandalf's request. However, Frodo was gravely wounded by the leader of the Ringwraiths, though he managed to recover under the care of lord <a href="/wiki/Elrond">Elrond</a>, the <a href="/wiki/Half-elf">Half-elf</a>.
</p><p>In Rivendell, the hobbits also learned that Sauron's forces could only be resisted if Aragorn took up his inheritance and fulfilled an ancient prophecy by wielding the sword <a href="/wiki/Narsil">Andúril</a>, which had been forged anew from the shards of <a href="/wiki/Narsil">Narsil</a>, the sword that cut the Ring from Sauron's finger in the Second Age. The treachery of <a href="/wiki/Saruman">Saruman</a>, formerly head of the <a href="/wiki/White_Council">White Council</a> and now in league with Sauron is also revealed. <a href="/wiki/Council_of_Elrond">A high council</a>, attended by representatives of the major races of Middle-earth; Elves, Dwarves, and Men, and presided over by Elrond, decide that the only course of action that can save Middle-earth is to destroy the Ring by taking it to Mordor and casting it into <a href="/wiki/Mount_Doom">Mount Doom</a>, where it was forged.
</p><p>Frodo volunteered for the task, and a "<a href="/wiki/Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(group)">Fellowship of the Ring</a>" was formed to aid him — consisting of Frodo, his three Hobbit companions, Gandalf, Aragorn, <a href="/wiki/Boromir">Boromir</a> of Gondor, <a href="/wiki/Gimli">Gimli</a> the Dwarf, and <a href="/wiki/Legolas">Legolas</a> the Elf. Their journey took them through the Mines of <a href="/wiki/Khazad-d%C3%BBm">Moria</a>, where they began to be followed by the creature <a href="/wiki/Gollum">Gollum</a>, whom Bilbo had met in the Goblin-caves of the Misty Mountains years before. (The full tale of their meeting is told in <i>The Hobbit.</i>) Gollum long possessed the Ring before it passed to Bilbo. Gandalf explained that Gollum belonged to a people "of hobbit-kind" before he came upon the Ring, which corrupted him. A slave to the Ring's evil power, Gollum desperately sought to regain his "Precious." As they proceeded through the Mines, Pippin unintentionally betrayed their presence and the party was attacked by creatures of Sauron. Gandalf battled an ancient demon, a <a href="/wiki/Balrogs">Balrog</a>, and fell into a deep chasm, apparently to his death. Escaping from Moria, the Fellowship, now led by Aragorn, go to the Elven realm of <a href="/wiki/Lothl%C3%B3rien">Lothlórien</a>. Here, the Lady <a href="/wiki/Galadriel">Galadriel</a> showed Frodo and Sam visions of the past, present, and future. Frodo also saw the <a href="/wiki/Eye_of_Sauron">Eye of Sauron</a>, a metaphysical expression of Sauron himself, and Galadriel was tempted by the Ring. By the end of the first volume, after the Fellowship has travelled along the great River <a href="/wiki/Anduin">Anduin</a>, Frodo decided to continue the trek to Mordor on his own, largely due to the Ring's growing influence on Boromir; however, the faithful Sam insisted on going with him.
</p><p>In the second volume, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers_(novel)">The Two Towers</a>,</i> a parallel story, told in the first book of the volume, details the exploits of the remaining members of the Fellowship who aid the country of <a href="/wiki/Rohan">Rohan</a> in its war against the emerging evil of <a href="/wiki/Saruman">Saruman</a>, leader of the Order of Wizards, who wanted the Ring for himself. At the start of the first book, the Fellowship was further scattered; Merry and Pippin were captured by Sauron and Saruman's Orcs, Boromir was mortally wounded defending them, and Aragorn and the others went off in pursuit of the Hobbits captors. The three meet Gandalf, who has returned to Middle-earth as "Gandalf the White": they found out that he slew the Balrog of Moria, and although the battle also proved fatal to Gandalf, he was then sent back and "reborn" as a more imposing figure. At the end of the first book, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli help defeat Saruman's armies at the <a href="/wiki/Battle_of_the_Hornburg">Battle of the Hornburg</a> while Saruman himself was cornered by the tree-like <a href="/wiki/Ents">Ents</a> and <a href="/wiki/Huorns">Huorns</a>, accompanied by Merry and Pippin, who escaped from captivity, and the two groups are reunited.
</p><p>The second book of the volume tells of Frodo and Sam's exploits on the way to Mount Doom. They managed to capture and "tame" Gollum, who then showed them a way to enter Mordor secretly (as opposed to the <a href="/wiki/Black_Gate">Black Gate</a>), albeit through the dreaded realm of <a href="/wiki/Minas_Morgul">Minas Morgul</a>. At the end of the volume, Gollum betrayed Frodo to the great spider, <a href="/wiki/Shelob">Shelob</a>, and though he survived, he was captured by Orcs. Meanwhile, Sauron launched an all-out military assault upon Middle-earth, with the <a href="/wiki/Witch-king_of_Angmar">Witch-king</a> (leader of the Ringwraiths) leading a fell host from <a href="/wiki/Minas_Morgul">Minas Morgul</a> into battle against <a href="/wiki/Gondor">Gondor</a>, in the <a href="/wiki/War_of_the_Ring">War of the Ring</a>.
</p><p>In the third volume, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(novel)">The Return of the King</a>,</i> the further adventures of Gandalf, Aragorn and company are related in the first book of the volume, while Frodo and Sam's are related in the second, as with <i>The Two Towers.</i> As told in the first book, the Fellowship assisted in the final battles against the armies of Sauron, including the siege of the city of <a href="/wiki/Minas_Tirith">Minas Tirith</a> in Gondor and the climactic life-or-death battle before the <a href="/wiki/Black_Gate">Black Gate</a> of Mordor, where the alliance of Gondor and Rohan fought desperately against Sauron's armies in order to distract him from the Ring, hoping to gain time for Frodo to destroy it.
</p><p>In the second book, Sam rescued Frodo from captivity. After much struggle, they finally reached Mount Doom itself, tailed by Gollum. However, the temptation of the Ring proved too great for Frodo and he claimed it for himself. However, Gollum struggled with him and managed to bite the Ring off. Crazed with triumph, Gollum slipped into the fires of the mountain, and the Ring was destroyed.
</p><p>Finally, Sauron was defeated, and Aragorn was crowned king. However, all was not over, for Saruman managed to escape and <a href="/wiki/Scouring_of_the_Shire">scour the Shire</a> before being overthrown. At the end, Frodo remained wounded in body and spirit and went west accompanied by Bilbo over the Sea to Valinor, where he could find peace.
</p><p>According to Tolkien's <a href="/wiki/Timeline_of_Arda">timeline</a>, the events depicted in the story occurred between Bilbo's announcement of his <a href="/wiki/September_22">September 22</a>, <a href="/wiki/TA_3001">3001</a> <a href="/wiki/Bilbo%27s_Farewell_Birthday_Party">birthday party</a>, and Sam's return to <a href="/wiki/Bag_End">Bag End</a> on <a href="/wiki/October_6">October 6</a>, <a href="/wiki/TA_3021">3021</a>. Most of the events portrayed in the story occur in <a href="/wiki/TA_3018">TA 3018</a> and <a href="/wiki/TA_3019">TA 3019</a>, with Frodo heading out from Bag End on <a href="/wiki/September_23">September 23</a> 3018, and the destruction of the Ring six months later on <a href="/wiki/March_25">March 25</a>, 3019.
</p>
<h2>Characters</h2>
<dl><dd><i>For character information see: <a href="/wiki/List_of_characters">List of characters</a></i></dd></dl>
<h3>Good (excluding most minor characters)</h3>
<ul><li><a href="/wiki/Aragorn_II_Elessar">Aragorn</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gimli">Gimli</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Legolas">Legolas</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gandalf">Gandalf</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Boromir">Boromir</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Frodo_Baggins">Frodo Baggins</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Samwise_Gamgee">Samwise Gamgee</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Peregrin_Took">Peregrin Took</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Meriadoc_Brandybuck">Meriadoc Brandybuck</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Bilbo_Baggins">Bilbo Baggins</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Elrond">Elrond</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Glorfindel">Glorfindel</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Arwen">Arwen</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Elladan_and_Elrohir">Elladan</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Elladan_and_Elrohir">Elrohir</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Thranduil">Thranduil</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Haldir_of_Lothl%C3%B3rien">Haldir</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Celeborn">Celeborn</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Galadriel">Galadriel</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gwaihir">Gwaihir</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Balin">Balin</a> (mentioned)</li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gl%C3%B3in">Glóin</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/D%C3%A1in_II_Ironfoot">Dáin II Ironfoot</a> (mentioned)</li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Faramir">Faramir</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Denethor_II">Denethor II</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Beregond">Beregond</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Treebeard">Treebeard</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Th%C3%A9oden">Théoden</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/%C3%89omer">Éomer</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/%C3%89owyn">Éowyn</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/H%C3%A1ma">Háma</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gamling">Gamling</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Th%C3%A9odred">Théodred</a></li></ul>
<h3>Evil</h3>
<ul><li><a href="/wiki/Sauron">Sauron</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Witch-king_of_Angmar">Witch-king of Angmar</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Mouth_of_Sauron">Mouth of Sauron</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Nazg%C3%BBl">Nazgûl</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gorbag">Gorbag</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Shagrat">Shagrat</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Saruman">Saruman</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gr%C3%ADma_Wormtongue">Gríma Wormtongue</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Ugl%C3%BAk">Uglúk</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Gollum">Gollum</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Shelob">Shelob</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/Durin%27s_Bane">Durin's Bane</a>, a <a href="/wiki/Balrog">Balrog</a></li></ul>
<h2>Background</h2>
<h3>Writing</h3>
<table>
<tbody><tr>
<th><strong>The Lord of the Rings</strong>
</th></tr>
<tr>
<td><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(novel)">Volume I</a> - <a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers_(novel)">Volume II</a> - <a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(novel)">Volume III</a>
</td></tr></tbody></table>
<p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> in conception was meant as a sequel <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i>, his tale for children published in 1937.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup> The popularity of <i>The Hobbit</i> led to demands from his publishers for more stories about Hobbits and <a href="/wiki/Goblins">goblins</a>, and so that same year Tolkien began writing what would become <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> - not to be finished until 12 years later in 1949, not be fully published until 1955, by which time Tolkien would be 63 years old.
</p><p>Tolkien did not originally intend to write a sequel to <i>The Hobbit,</i> and instead wrote several other children's tales such as <i><a href="/wiki/Roverandom">Roverandom</a>.</i> As his main work, Tolkien began to outline the history of <a href="/wiki/Arda">Arda</a>, telling tales of the <a href="/wiki/Silmarils">Silmarils</a>, and many other stories forming the vast background to <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and the <a href="/wiki/Third_Age">Third Age</a>. Tolkien died before he could complete and put together all of this work cohesively, but his son <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher Tolkien</a> edited his father's work, filled in gaps, and published it in 1977 as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-10">[10]</a></sup> Some Tolkien biographers regard <i>The Silmarillion</i> as the true "work of his heart"<sup><a href="#cite_note-11">[11]</a></sup>, as it provides the historical and linguistic context for the more popular work and for <a href="/wiki/Languages_of_Middle-earth">his constructed languages</a>, and had occupied most of Tolkien's adult life. As a result <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> ended up as the last movement of Tolkien's <a href="/wiki/Legendarium">legendarium</a> and, to him, the "much larger, and I hope also in proportion the best, of the entire cycle".<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-3">[3]</a></sup>
</p><p>Persuaded by his publishers, he started 'a new Hobbit' in the third week of December 1937.<sup><a href="#cite_note-12">[12]</a></sup> After several false starts, the story of the One Ring soon emerged, and the book mutated from being a sequel to <i>The Hobbit,</i> to being, in theme, more a sequel to the unpublished <i>Silmarillion.</i> The idea of the first chapter (<a href="/wiki/A_Long-expected_Party_(chapter)"><i>A Long-expected Party</i></a>) arrived fully-formed, although the reasons behind Bilbo's disappearance, the significance of the Ring, and the title <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> did not arrive until the spring of 1938.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup> Originally, he planned to write another story in which Bilbo had used up all his treasure and was looking for another adventure to gain more; however, he remembered the ring and its powers and decided to write about it instead.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup> He began with Bilbo as the main character but decided that the story was too serious to use the fun-loving hobbit and so Tolkien looked to use a member of Bilbo's family.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup> He thought about using Bilbo's son, but this generated some difficult questions, such as the whereabouts of his wife and whether he would let his son go into danger. Thus he looked for an alternate character to carry the ring. In Greek legend, it was a hero's nephew that gained the item of power, and so the hobbit Frodo came into existence.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup>
</p>
<dl><dd>"<i>As the high Legends of the beginning are supposed to look at things through Elvish minds, so the middle tale of the Hobbit takes a virtually human point of view - and the last tale </i>[The Lord of the Rings]<i> blends them.</i>"</dd>
<dd>—<small>Tolkien on <i>The Silmarillion</i>, <i>The Hobbit</i>, and <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> respectively<sup><a href="#cite_note-13">[13]</a></sup></small></dd></dl>
<p>Writing was slow due to Tolkien's perfectionism and a wartime shortage of paper. It was frequently interrupted by his obligations as an examiner, and other academic duties.
</p><p>The first sentence of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i> was in fact written on a blank page which a student had left on an exam paper which Tolkien was marking — "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."<sup><a href="#cite_note-14">[14]</a></sup> He seems to have abandoned <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> during most of 1943 and only restarted it in April 1944.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup> This effort was written as a serial for <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher Tolkien</a> and <a href="/wiki/C.S._Lewis">C.S. Lewis</a> — the former would be sent copies of chapters as they were written while he was serving in Africa in the Royal Air Force. He made another push in 1946, and showed a copy of the manuscript to his publishers in 1947.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup> The story was effectively finished the next year, but Tolkien did not finish revising earlier parts of the work until 1949.<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup>
</p><p>A dispute with his publishers, <a href="/wiki/Allen_%26_Unwin">Allen &amp; Unwin</a>, led to the book being offered to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HarperCollins">HarperCollins</a> in 1950. He intended <i>The Silmarillion</i> (itself largely unrevised at this point) to be published along with <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> but A&amp;U were unwilling to do this. After his contact at Collins, Milton Waldman, expressed the belief that <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> itself "urgently needed cutting", he eventually demanded that they publish the book in 1952. They did not do so, and so Tolkien wrote to Allen and Unwin, saying "I would gladly consider the publication of any part of the stuff."<sup><a href="#cite_note-genesis-9">[9]</a></sup>
</p>
<h3>Publication</h3>
<p>For publication, due largely to post-war paper shortages, but also to keep the price of the first volume down, the book was divided into three volumes: <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(novel)">The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i>: Books I and II, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers_(novel)">The Two Towers</a></i>: Books III and IV, and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(novel)">The Return of the King</a></i>: Books V and VI plus 6 <a href="/wiki/Appendices">appendices</a>. Delays in producing appendices, maps and especially indices led to these being published later than originally hoped — on 21 July 1954, 11 November 1954 and 20 October 1955 respectively in the <a href="/wiki/United_Kingdom">United Kingdom</a>, slightly later in the United States. <i>The Return of the King</i> was especially delayed. Tolkien, moreover, did not especially like the title <i>The Return of the King</i>, believing it gave away too much of the storyline. He had originally suggested <i><a href="/wiki/War_of_the_Ring">War of the Ring</a>,</i> which was dismissed by his publishers.<sup><a href="#cite_note-15">[15]</a></sup>
</p>
<figure> 	<a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/b/b9/LotR_book1968.png/revision/latest?cb=20060310233630"></a> 	 	<figcaption> 	 	<a href="/wiki/File:LotR_book1968.png"></a> 	 	 	 	<p>Dust jacket of the 1968 UK edition</p> 	 	</figcaption> </figure>
<p>The books were published under a 'profit-sharing' arrangement, whereby Tolkien would not receive an advance or royalties until the books had broken even, after which he would take a large share of the profits. An index to the entire 3-volume set at the end of third volume was promised in the first volume. However, this proved impractical to compile in a reasonable timescale. Later, in 1966, four indices, not compiled by Tolkien, were added to <i>The Return of the King.</i> Because the three-volume binding was so widely distributed, the work is often referred to as the <i>Lord of the Rings</i> "trilogy." In a letter to W. H. Auden, Tolkien himself made use of the term "trilogy" for the work (<i><a href="/wiki/The_Letters_of_J._R._R._Tolkien">The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien</a></i>, #163) though he did at other times consider this incorrect, as it was written and conceived as a single book (<i>Letters,</i> #149). It is also often called a <a href="/wiki/Novel">novel</a>; however, Tolkien also objected to this term as he viewed it as a romance (<i>Letters,</i> #329; "romance" in this sense refers to a heroic tale).
</p><p>A 1999 (Millennium Edition) British (<a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0261103873">ISBN 0-261-10387-3</a>) 7-volume box set followed the six-book division authored by Tolkien, with the Appendices from the end of <i>The Return of the King</i> bound as a separate volume. The letters of <i>Tolkien</i> appeared on the spines of the boxed set which included a CD. To coincide with the film release, a new version of this popular edition was released featuring images from the films, such as:
</p>
<ul><li>I - Frodo climbing the steps to Bag End</li>
<li>II - Aragorn and Arwen in Rivendell</li>
<li>III - Gandalf in Moria</li>
<li>IV - A swan boat from Lothlórien</li>
<li>V - A Black Rider from the 'Flight to the Ford' sequence</li>
<li>VI - The tower of <a href="/wiki/Cirith_Ungol">Cirith Ungol</a> (although this image featured in many of the promotional books (e.g. the 'FotR Photo Guide') from the first film, it did not feature in the films until <i>Return of the King</i>)</li>
<li>App. - Frodo's hand holding the One Ring</li></ul>
<p>This new imprint (<a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0007635559">ISBN 0-00-763555-9</a>) also omitted the CD.
The individual names for books in this series were decided posthumously, based on a combination of suggestions Tolkien had made during his lifetime and the titles of the existing volumes — <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viz.">viz</a>:
</p>
<ul><li>T Book I: <i>The Return of the Shadow</i></li>
<li>O Book II: <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i></li>
<li>L Book III: <i>The Treason of Isengard</i></li>
<li>K Book IV: <i>The Journey to Mordor</i></li>
<li>I Book V: <i>The War of the Ring</i></li>
<li>E Book VI: <i>The Return of the King</i></li>
<li>N Appendices</li></ul>
<p>The name of the complete work is often abbreviated to '<b>LotR'</b>, '<b>LOTR'</b>, or simply '<b>LR'</b> (Tolkien himself used <b>L.R.</b>), and the three volumes as FR, FOTR, or FotR (The <b>F</b>ellowship <b>o</b>f <b>t</b>he <b>R</b>ing), TT or TTT (<b>T</b>he <b>T</b>wo <b>T</b>owers), and RK, ROTK, or RotK (The <b>R</b>eturn <b>o</b>f <b>t</b>he <b>K</b>ing).
</p><p>Note that the titles <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_Shadow">The Return of the Shadow</a>,</i> <i><a href="/wiki/The_Treason_of_Isengard">The Treason of Isengard</a></i> and <a href="/wiki/The_War_of_the_Ring_(book)"><i>The War of the Ring</i></a> were used by <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher Tolkien</a> in <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">The History of The Lord of the Rings</a>.</i>
</p>
<h3>Publication history</h3>
<p>The three parts were first published by <a href="/wiki/Allen_%26_Unwin">Allen &amp; Unwin</a> in 1954–1955, several months apart. They have since been reissued many times by multiple publishers, as one, three, six or seven volume sets. The two most common current printings are <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618343997">ISBN 0-618-34399-7</a> (one-volume) and <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618346244">ISBN 0-618-34624-4</a> (three volume set). In the early 1960s, Donald A. Wollheim, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Science_fiction">science fiction</a> editor of the paperback publisher Ace Books, realized that <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was not protected in the United States under American copyright law because the US hardcover edition had been bound from pages printed in the United Kingdom, with the original intention being for them to be printed in the British edition. Ace Books proceeded to publish an edition, unauthorized by Tolkien and without royalties to him. Tolkien took issue with this and quickly notified his fans of this objection. Grass-roots pressure from these fans became so great that Ace books withdrew their edition and made a nominal payment to Tolkien, well below what he might have been due in an appropriate publication. However, this poor beginning was overshadowed when an authorized edition followed from Ballantine Books to tremendous commercial success. By the mid-1960s the books, due to their wide exposure on the American public stage, had become a true cultural phenomenon. Also at this time Tolkien undertook various textual revisions to produce a version of the book that would have a valid US copyright. This would later become known as the Second Edition of <i>The Lord of the Rings.</i>
</p><p>The books have been translated, with various degrees of success, into dozens of other languages.<sup><a href="#cite_note-16">[16]</a></sup> Tolkien, an expert in philology, examined many of these translations, and had comments on each that reflect both the translation process and his work. To aid translators, Tolkien wrote his <i>Guide to the Names in The Lord of the Rings.</i> Because <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> is said to be a translation of the <i><a href="/wiki/Red_Book_of_Westmarch">Red Book of Westmarch</a>,</i> translators have an unusual degree of freedom when translating <i>The Lord of the Rings.</i> This allows for such translations as <a href="/wiki/Elves">Elf</a> becoming <i>Elb</i> in German — Elb does not carry the connotations of mischief that its English counterpart does and therefore is more true to the work that Tolkien created. In contrast to the usual modern practice, names intended to have a particular meaning in the English version are translated to provide a similar meaning in the target language: in German, for example, the name "Baggins" becomes "Beutlin," containing the word <i>Beutel</i> meaning "bag."
</p><p>In 1990 Recorded Books published an unabridged audio version of the books, and hired British actor Rob Inglis, who had starred in a one-man production of <i>The Hobbit</i>, to read. Inglis performs the books verbatim, using distinct voices for each character, and sings all of the songs. Tolkien had written music for some of the songs in the book. For the rest, Inglis, along with director Claudia Howard wrote additional music. The current ISBN is 1402516274.
</p>
<h3>Influences</h3>
<p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> began as a personal exploration by Tolkien of his interests in philology, religion (particularly Roman Catholicism), fairy tales, as well as <a href="/wiki/Norse_mythology">Norse</a> and Celtic <a href="/wiki/Mythology">mythology</a>, but it was also crucially influenced by the effects of his military service during <a href="/wiki/World_War_I">World War I</a>.<sup><a href="#cite_note-17">[17]</a></sup> Tolkien detailed his creation to an astounding extent; he created a complete mythology for his realm of Middle-earth, including genealogies of characters, languages, writing systems, calendars and histories. Some of this supplementary material is detailed in the appendices to <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> and the mythological history woven into a large, biblically-styled volume entitled <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a>.</i> However many parts of the world he crafted, as he freely admitted, are influenced by other sources.
</p><p>Tolkien's largest influences in the creation of his world were his Catholic faith and the Bible.<sup><a href="#cite_note-18">[18]</a></sup> Tolkien once described <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> to his friend, the English Jesuit Father Robert Murray, as "<i>a fundamentally religious and Catholic work, unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision.</i>"<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-3">[3]</a></sup> There are many theological themes underlying the narrative including the battle of good versus evil, the triumph of humility over pride, and the activity of grace. In addition the saga includes themes which incorporate death and immortality, mercy and pity, resurrection, salvation, repentance, self-sacrifice, free will, justice, fellowship, authority and healing. In addition the Lord's Prayer "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil" was reportedly present in Tolkien's mind as he described Frodo's struggles against the power of the One Ring.<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-3">[3]</a></sup>
</p><p>Non-Christian religious motifs also had strong influences in Tolkien's Middle-earth. His <a href="/wiki/Ainur">Ainur</a>, a race of angelic beings who are responsible for <a href="/wiki/Ainulindal%C3%AB">conceptualising the world</a>, includes the <a href="/wiki/Vala">Valar</a>, the pantheon of "gods" who are responsible for the maintenance of everything from skies and seas to dreams and doom, and their servants, the <a href="/wiki/Maiar">Maiar</a>. The concept of the Valar echoes Greek and Norse mythologies, although the Ainur and <a href="/wiki/Arda">the world</a> itself are all creations of a monotheistic deity — <a href="/wiki/Eru_Il%C3%BAvatar">Ilúvatar or Eru, "The One"</a>. As the external practice of Middle-earth religion is downplayed in <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> explicit information about them is only given in the different versions of <i>Silmarillion</i> material. However, there remain allusions to this aspect of Tolkien's mythos, including "the Great Enemy" who was Sauron's master and "Elbereth, Queen of Stars" (<a href="/wiki/Melkor">Morgoth</a> and <a href="/wiki/Varda">Varda</a> respectively, two of the Valar) in the main text, the "Authorities" (referring to the Valar, literally <i>Powers</i>) in the Prologue, and "the One" in Appendix A. Other non-Christian mythological elements can be seen, including other sentient non-humans (Dwarves, Elves, Hobbits and Ents), a "Green Man" (<a href="/wiki/Tom_Bombadil">Tom Bombadil</a>), and spirits or ghosts (<a href="/wiki/Barrow-wights">Barrow-wights</a>, <a href="/wiki/Dead_Men_of_Dunharrow">Oathbreakers</a>).
</p>
<figure> 	<a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/4/45/Cover_lotr_green_gandalf.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20070102112551"></a> 	 	<figcaption> 	 	<a href="/wiki/File:Cover_lotr_green_gandalf.jpg"></a> 	 	 	 	<p>Gandalf the "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Odin">Odinic</a> wanderer", from a book cover by <a href="/wiki/John_Howe">John Howe</a></p> 	 	</figcaption> </figure>
<p>The mythologies from northern Europe are perhaps the best known non-Christian influences on Tolkien. His Elves and Dwarves are by and large based on <a href="/wiki/Norse_mythology">Norse</a> and related Germanic mythologies.<sup>[<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citing_sources"><i>citation needed</i></a>]</sup> The figure of Gandalf is particularly influenced by the Germanic deity Odin in his incarnation as "the Wanderer", an old man with one eye, a long white beard, a wide brimmed hat, and a staff; Tolkien states that he thinks of Gandalf as an <i>"Odinic wanderer"</i> in a letter of 1946.<sup><a href="#cite_note-letters-3">[3]</a></sup> Finnish mythology and more specifically the Finnish national epic <i><a href="/wiki/Kalevala">Kalevala</a></i> were also acknowledged by Tolkien as an influence on Middle-earth. <sup>[<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citing_sources"><i>citation needed</i></a>]</sup> In a similar manner to <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, the <i>Kalevala</i> centers around a magical item of great power, the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sampo">Sampo</a>, which bestows great fortune on its owner but never makes its exact nature clear. Like the One Ring, the Sampo is fought over by forces of good and evil, and is ultimately lost to the world as it is destroyed towards the end of the story. In another parallel, the latter work's wizard character <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/V%C3%A4in%C3%A4m%C3%B6inen">Väinämöinen</a> also has many similarities to Gandalf in his immortal origins and wise nature, and both works end with their respective wizard departing on a ship to lands beyond the mortal world. Tolkien also based his <a href="/wiki/Elvish_languages">Elvish language</a> <a href="/wiki/Quenya">Quenya</a> on Finnish.<sup><a href="#cite_note-19">[19]</a></sup>
</p><p>In addition <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was crucially influenced by Tolkien's experiences during World War I and his son's during World War II. The central action of the books — a climactic, age-ending war between good and evil — is the central event of many world mythologies, notably Norse, but it is also a clear reference to the well-known description of World War I, which was commonly referred to as "the war to end all wars."
After the publication of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> these influences led to speculation that the One Ring was an allegory for the nuclear bomb.<sup><a href="#cite_note-la_Hood-20">[20]</a></sup> Tolkien, however, repeatedly insisted that his works were not an allegory of any kind. However there is a strong theme of despair in the face of new mechanized warfare that Tolkien himself had experienced in the trenches of World War I. The development of a specially bred Orc army, and the destruction of the environment to aid this, also have modern resonances; and the effects of the Ring on its users evoke the modern literature of drug addiction as much as any historic quest literature.
</p><p>Nevertheless, Tolkien states in the introduction to the books that he disliked allegories and that the story was not one,<sup><a href="#cite_note-21">[21]</a></sup> and it would be irresponsible to dismiss such direct statements on these matters lightly. Tolkien had already completed most of the book, including the ending in its entirety, before the first nuclear bombs were made known to the world at Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945.
</p><p>While Tolkien plausibly denied any specific 'nuclear' reference, it is clear that the Ring has broad applicability to the concept of Absolute Power and its effects, and that the plot hinges on the view that anyone who seeks to gain absolute worldly power will inevitably be corrupted by it. Some also say there is also clear evidence that one of the main subtexts of the story — the passing of a mythical "Golden Age" — was influenced not only by Arthurian legend but also by Tolkien's contemporary anxieties about the growing encroachment of urbanisation and industrialisation into the "traditional" English lifestyle and countryside. The concept of the "ring of power" itself is also present in Plato's Republic and in the story of Gyges' ring (a story often compared to the Book of Job). Many, however, believe Tolkien's most likely source was the Norse tale of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigurd_the_Volsung">Sigurd the Volsung</a>. Some locations and characters were inspired by Tolkien's childhood in <a href="/wiki/Sarehole">Sarehole</a> (then a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Worcestershire">Worcestershire</a> village, now part of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birmingham">Birmingham</a>) and Birmingham.
</p>
<h3>Critical response</h3>
<p>Tolkien's work has received mixed reviews since its inception, ranging from terrible to excellent. Recent reviews in various media have been, in a majority, highly positive. On its initial review the <i>Sunday Telegraph</i> felt it was "among the greatest works of imaginative fiction of the twentieth century". The <i>Sunday Times</i> seemed to echo these sentiments when in their review it was stated that "the English-speaking world is divided into those who have read <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> and <i>The Hobbit</i> and those who are going to read them." The New York Herald Tribune also seemed to have an idea of how popular the books would become, writing in its review that they were "destined to outlast our time."<sup><a href="#cite_note-22">[22]</a></sup>
</p><p>Not all original reviews, however, were so kind. <i>New York Times</i> reviewer Judith Shulevitz criticized the "pedantry" of Tolkien's literary style, saying that he "formulated a high-minded belief in the importance of his mission as a literary preservationist, which turns out to be death to literature itself." <sup><a href="#cite_note-23">[23]</a></sup> Critic Richard Jenkyns, writing in <i>The New Republic</i>, criticized a perceived lack of psychological depth. Both the characters and the work itself are, according to Jenkyns, "anemic, and lacking in fiber."<sup><a href="#cite_note-24">[24]</a></sup> Even within Tolkien's social group, <a href="/wiki/The_Inklings">The Inklings</a>, reviews were mixed. <a href="/wiki/Hugo_Dyson">Hugo Dyson</a> was famously recorded as saying, during one of Tolkien's readings to the group, "Oh no! Not another fucking elf!"<sup><a href="#cite_note-25">[25]</a></sup> However, another Inkling, <a href="/wiki/C.S._Lewis">C.S. Lewis</a>, had very different feelings, writing, "here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron. Here is a book which will break your heart."
</p><p>Several other authors in the genre, however, seemed to agree more with Dyson than Lewis. Science-fiction author David Brin criticized the books for what he perceived to be their unquestioning devotion to a traditional elitist social structure, their positive depiction of the slaughter of the opposing forces, and their romantic backward-looking worldview.<sup><a href="#cite_note-26">[26]</a></sup> Michael Moorcock, another famous science fiction and fantasy author, is also a fervent detractor of <i>The Lord of the Rings.</i> In his essay, "Epic Pooh," he equates Tolkien's work to <i>Winnie-the-Pooh</i> and criticizes it and similar works for their perceived Merry England point of view.<sup><a href="#cite_note-27">[27]</a></sup> Incidentally, Moorcock met both Tolkien and Lewis in his teens and claims to have liked them personally, even though he does not admire them on artistic grounds.
</p><p>More recently, critical analysis has focused on Tolkien's experiences in the <a href="/wiki/World_War_I">First World War</a>; writers such as John Garth in 'Tolkien and the Great War', Janet Brennan Croft and <a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Tom Shippey</a> all look in detail at this aspect and compare the imagery, mental landscape and traumas in Lord of the Rings with those experienced by soldiers in the trenches and the history of the Great War. John Carey, formerly Merton Professor of English Literature at Oxford University, speaking in April 2003 on the BBC "Big Read" programme which voted Lord of the Rings "Britain's best-loved book", said that "Tolkien's writing is essentially a species of war literature; not as direct perhaps as Wilfred Owen, or as solid as some, but very, very interesting as that — the most solid reflection on war experiences written up as fantasy."
</p><p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, despite not being published in paperback until the 1960s, sold well in hardback.<sup><a href="#cite_note-28">[28]</a></sup>
In 1957 it was awarded the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Fantasy_Award">International Fantasy Award</a>. Despite its numerous detractors, the publication of the Ace Books and Ballantine paperbacks helped <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> become immensely popular in the 1960s. The book has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the twentieth century, judged by both sales and reader surveys.<sup><a href="#cite_note-29">[29]</a></sup> In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted by the <a href="/wiki/BBC">BBC</a>, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was found to be the "Nation's Best-loved Book". Australians voted <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> "My Favourite Book" in a 2004 survey conducted by the Australian ABC.<sup><a href="#cite_note-30">[30]</a></sup> In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium".<sup><a href="#cite_note-31">[31]</a></sup> In 2002 Tolkien was voted the ninety-second "greatest Briton" in a poll conducted by the BBC, and in 2004 he was voted thirty-fifth in the SABC3's Great South Africans, the only person to appear in both lists. His popularity is not limited just to the English-speaking world: in a 2004 poll inspired by the UK’s "Big Read" survey, about 250,000 Germans found <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> to be their favourite work of literature.<sup><a href="#cite_note-32">[32]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Adaptations</h2>
<dl><dd><i>Main article: <a href="/wiki/Adaptations_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings</a></i></dd></dl>
<figure> 	<a href="https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/lotr/images/7/74/LOTRFOTRmovie.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20210717105815"></a> 	 	<figcaption> 	 	<a href="/wiki/File:LOTRFOTRmovie.jpg"></a> 	 	 	 	<p><a href="/wiki/Peter_Jackson">Peter Jackson</a>'s <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(film)">The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i></p> 	 	</figcaption> </figure>
<p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has been adapted for film, radio and stage multiple times.
</p><p>The book has been adapted for radio three times. In 1955 and 1956, the British Broadcasting Company (<a href="/wiki/BBC">BBC</a>) broadcast <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1955_radio_series)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i>, a 12-part radio adaptation of the story, of which no recording has survived. A 1979 dramatization of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1979_radio_series)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i> was broadcast in the United States and subsequently issued on tape and CD. In 1981 the BBC broadcast, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1981_radio_series)">The Lord of the Rings</a></i>, a new dramatization in 26 half-hour installments.
</p><p>Three film adaptations have been made. The first was <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1978_film)">J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings</a></i> (1978), by animator <a href="/wiki/Ralph_Bakshi">Ralph Bakshi</a>, the first part of what was originally intended to be a two-part adaptation of the story (hence its original title, <i>The Lord of the Rings Part 1</i>). It covers <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> and part of <i>The Two Towers</i>. The second, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(1980_film)">The Return of the King</a></i> (1980), was an animated television special by <a href="/wiki/Rankin-Bass">Rankin-Bass</a>, who had produced a similar version of <i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit_(1977_animated_film)">The Hobbit</a></i> (1977). The third was director <a href="/wiki/Peter_Jackson">Peter Jackson</a>'s live action <a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_film_trilogy"><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> film trilogy</a>, produced by <a href="/wiki/New_Line_Cinema">New Line Cinema</a> and released in three installments as <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring">The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i> (2001), <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Two_Towers">The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers</a></i> (2002), and <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings:_The_Return_of_the_King">The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King</a></i> (2003). The live-action film trilogy has done much in particular to bring the book into the public consciousness.<sup><a href="#cite_note-surge-8">[8]</a></sup>
</p><p>There have been four stage productions based on the book. Three original full-length stage adaptations of <i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> (2001), <i>The Two Towers</i> (2002), and <i>The Return of the King</i> (2003) were staged in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cincinnati,_Ohio">Cincinnati, Ohio</a>. A stage musical adaptation of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> (2006) was staged in Toronto, Canada.
</p>
<h2>Influences on the fantasy genre</h2>
<p>Following the massive success of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, Tolkien considered a sequel entitled <i><a href="/wiki/The_New_Shadow">The New Shadow</a></i>, in which the <a href="/wiki/Men_of_Gondor">Men of Gondor</a> turn to dark cults and consider an uprising against Aragorn's son, <a href="/wiki/Eldarion">Eldarion</a>. Tolkien decided not to do it, and the incomplete story can be found in <i><a href="/wiki/The_Peoples_of_Middle-earth">The Peoples of Middle-earth</a></i>. Tolkien returned to finish his mythology, which was published in novel form posthumously by <a href="/wiki/Christopher_Tolkien">Christopher Tolkien</a> in 1977, and the remaining information of his legendarium was published through <i><a href="/wiki/Unfinished_Tales">Unfinished Tales</a></i> (1980) and <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_Middle-earth">The History of Middle-earth</a></i>, a twelve volume series published from 1983 to 1996, of which <i>The Peoples of Middle-earth</i> is part.
</p><p>Nonetheless, the enormous popularity of Tolkien's epic saga greatly expanded the demand for fantasy fiction. Largely thanks to <i>The Lord of the Rings,</i> the genre flowered throughout the 1960s. Many other books in a broadly similar vein were published (including the <i>Earthsea</i> books of Ursula K. Le Guin, the <i>Thomas Covenant</i> <a href="/wiki/Novel">novels</a> of Stephen R. Donaldson), and in the case of the <i>Gormenghast</i> books by Mervyn Peake, and <i>The Worm Ouroboros</i> by E. R. Eddison, rediscovered.<sup><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citing_sources">[<i>citation needed</i>]</a></sup>
</p><p>It also strongly influenced the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Role-playing_game">role playing game</a> industry which achieved popularity in the 1970s with <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dungeons_%26_Dragons">Dungeons &amp; Dragons</a></i>. <i>Dungeons &amp; Dragons</i> features many races found in <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> most notably the presence of <a href="/wiki/Halfling">halflings</a>, Elves, Dwarves, <a href="/wiki/Half-elven">Half-elves</a>, <a href="/wiki/Orcs">Orcs</a>, and dragons. However, Gary Gygax, lead designer of the game, maintains that he was influenced very little by <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>, stating that he included these elements as a marketing move to draw on the then-popularity of the work.<sup><a href="#cite_note-33">[33]</a></sup> <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> also has influenced <i>Magic: The Gathering</i>. <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has also influenced the creation of various video games, including <i>The Legend of Zelda</i>,<sup><a href="#cite_note-34">[34]</a></sup> <i>Baldur's Gate</i>, <i>Everquest</i>, <i>The Elder Scrolls</i>, <i>Neverwinter Nights</i>, and the <i>Warcraft</i> series,<sup><a href="#cite_note-35">[35]</a></sup> as well as <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_video_games">video games set in Middle-earth</a> itself.
</p><p>As in all artistic fields, a great many lesser derivatives of the more prominent works appeared. The term "Tolkienesque" is used in the genre to refer to the oft-used and abused storyline of <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>: a group of adventurers embarking on a quest to save a magical fantasy world from the armies of an evil "<a href="/wiki/Dark_Lord">dark lord</a>," and is a testament to how much the popularity of these books has increased, since many critics initially decried it as being "Wagner for children" (a reference to the Ring Cycle) — an especially interesting commentary in light of a possible interpretation of the books as a Christian response to Wagner.<sup><a href="#cite_note-36">[36]</a></sup>
</p><p>The work has also had an influence upon such science fiction authors as Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke. In fact, Clarke (who compared it to Frank Herbert's <i>Dune</i><sup><a href="#cite_note-37">[37]</a></sup>) makes a reference to <a href="/wiki/Mount_Doom">Mount Doom</a> in his work <i>2061: Odyssey Three</i>.<sup>[<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Citing_sources"><i>citation needed</i></a>]</sup> Tolkien also influenced George Lucas' <i>Star Wars</i> films.<sup><a href="#cite_note-38">[38]</a></sup>
</p>
<h2>Pop culture references</h2>
<dl><dd><i>Main article: <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_popular_culture">Middle-earth in popular culture</a></i></dd></dl>
<p><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> has had a profound and wide-ranging impact on popular culture, from its publication in the 1950s, but especially throughout the 1960s and 1970s, where young people embraced it as a countercultural saga. Its influence has been vastly extended in the present day, thanks to the Peter Jackson live-action films. Well known examples include "Frodo Lives!" and "Gandalf for President", two phrases popular among American <a href="/wiki/Tolkien_fandom">Tolkien fans</a> during the 1960s and 1970s,<sup><a href="#cite_note-39">[39]</a></sup> "Ramble On", "<a href="/wiki/The_Battle_of_Evermore">The Battle of Evermore</a>", and "<a href="/wiki/Misty_Mountain_Hop">Misty Mountain Hop</a>", three compositions by the British rock band Led Zeppelin that contain explicit references to <i>The Lord of the Rings</i> (with others, such as "Stairway to Heaven", alleged by some to contain such), "Rivendell", a song about the joys of a stay at the Elven haven by the band Rush]] (found on their album <i>Fly by Night</i>, 1975), "Lord of the Rings" and "Gandalf the Wizard" by the German power metal band <a href="/wiki/Blind_Guardian">Blind Guardian</a> (who have also produced a <i>Silmarillion</i>-inspired album, <i><a href="/wiki/Nightfall_in_Middle-Earth">Nightfall in Middle-Earth</a></i>), nearly the entire discography of Austrian black metal band Summoning (who have also looked to other Tolkien works for inspiration)<sup><a href="#cite_note-40">[40]</a></sup> Rock band Marillion also take their name from Tolkien's Silmarillion. <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>-themed editions of popular board games (e.g., <a href="/wiki/Risk:_Lord_of_the_Rings_Trilogy_Edition">Risk: Lord of the Rings Trilogy Edition</a>, chess and Monopoly),<sup><a href="#cite_note-41">[41]</a></sup> and parodies such as <i><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bored_of_the_Rings">Bored of the Rings</a></i>, produced for the Harvard Lampoon.
</p>
<h2>Further reading</h2>
<ul><li>Carpenter, Humphrey (2000). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography</i>, Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618057021">ISBN 0-618-05702-1</a></li>
<li>Ready, William (1981). <i>The Tolkien Relation</i>, New York: Warner Books. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0446301108">ISBN 0-446-30110-8</a></li>
<li>O'Neil, Timothy (1979). <i>The Individuated Hobbit</i>, Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/039528208X">ISBN 039528208X</a></li></ul>
<h2>See also</h2>
<ul><li><i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">The History of The Lord of the Rings</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/Works_inspired_by_J._R._R._Tolkien">Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/Adaptations_of_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_popular_culture">Middle-earth in popular culture</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/Middle-earth_in_video_games">Middle-earth in video games</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/Themes_in_The_Lord_of_the_Rings">Themes in The Lord of the Rings</a></i></li>
<li><i><a href="/wiki/Chronology_of_the_Lord_of_the_Rings">Chronology of the Lord of the Rings</a></i></li></ul>
<h3>Books</h3>
<ol><li><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(novel)"><i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i></a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers_(novel)"><i>The Two Towers</i></a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(novel)"><i>The Return of the King</i></a></li></ol>
<h3>Films</h3>
<ul><li><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit_(1977_film)"><i>The Hobbit</i> (1977 film)</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/The_Lord_of_the_Rings_(1978_film)"><i>The Lord of the Rings</i> (1978 film)</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(1980_film)"><i>The Return of the King</i> (1980 film)</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(movie)"><i>The Fellowship of the Ring</i> (movie)</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers_(movie)"><i>The Two Towers</i> (movie)</a></li>
<li><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(movie)"><i>The Return of the King</i> (movie)</a></li></ul>
<h2>External links</h2>
<dl><dt>Cover art</dt></dl>
<ul><li><i>Adāzing</i> - <a href="https://www.adazing.com/lord-of-the-rings-book-cover-designs/">Lord of the Rings Book Cover Designs</a> (1954 to 2002)</li></ul>
<h2>Translations</h2>
<table>
<tbody><tr>
<td><b>Foreign Language</b>
</td>
<td><b>Translated name</b>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Afrikaans
</td>
<td>Die Here van die Ringe
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Albanian
</td>
<td>Kryezoti i Unazave
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Alemannic German
</td>
<td>Der Herr der Ringe
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Amharic
</td>
<td>ቀለበቶች ጌታ
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Armenian
</td>
<td>Մատանիների տիրակալը
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Arabic
</td>
<td>سيد الخواتم
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Assamese
</td>
<td>আঙঠিৰ প্ৰভু
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Awadhi
</td>
<td>द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Azerbaijani
</td>
<td>Üzüklərin Hökmdarı
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Basque
</td>
<td>Eraztunen Jauna
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Belarusian Cyrillic
</td>
<td>Уладар Пярсцёнкаў
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Bengali
</td>
<td>দ্য লর্ড অব দ্য রিংস
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Bosnian
</td>
<td>Gospodar prstenova
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Breton
</td>
<td>Aotrou ar Gwalennoù
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Bulgarian Cyrillic
</td>
<td>Властелинът на пръстените
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Burmese
</td>
<td>လက်စွပ်များ၏ အရှင်သခင်
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Cambodian
</td>
<td>ព្រះអម្ចាស់នៃកងដែល
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Cantonese
</td>
<td>魔戒
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Catalan
</td>
<td>El Senyor dels anells
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Cebuano
</td>
<td>Ang Ginoo sa mga Singsing
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Chinese (Min Nan)
</td>
<td>Chhiú-chí Ông
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Chinese (Simplified)
</td>
<td>魔戒
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Chinese (Wu)
</td>
<td>指环王
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Colognian
</td>
<td>Dr Herr dr Ringe
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Cornish
</td>
<td>An Arlodh a'n Bysowyer
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Croatian
</td>
<td>Gospodar Prstenova
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Czech
</td>
<td>Pán prstenů
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Danish
</td>
<td>Ringenes Herre
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Dutch
</td>
<td>In de Ban van de Ring
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Esperanto
</td>
<td>La Sinjoro de la Ringoj
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Estonian
</td>
<td>Sõrmuste Isand
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Faroese
</td>
<td>Ringanna Harri
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Filipino
</td>
<td>Ang Panginoon ng Singsing
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Finnish
</td>
<td>Taru Sormusten Herrasta
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>French
</td>
<td>Le Seigneur des Anneaux
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Frisian
</td>
<td>A Her faan A Ringer (Northern) Master fan alle Ringen (Western)
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Galician
</td>
<td>O Señor dos Aneis
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Georgian
</td>
<td>ბეჭდების მბრძანებელი
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>German
</td>
<td>Der Herr der Ringe
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Greek
</td>
<td>Ο άρχοντας των δαχτυλιδιών
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Hausa
</td>
<td>Ubangijin Zobba
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Hebrew
</td>
<td>שר הטבעות (טרילוגיית ספרים)
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Hindi
</td>
<td>द लार्ड ऑफ द रिंग्स
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Hungarian
</td>
<td>A gyűrűk ura
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Icelandic
</td>
<td>Hringadróttinssaga
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Indonesian
</td>
<td>Raja Segala Cincin
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Italian
</td>
<td>Il Signore degli Anelli
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Irish Gaelic
</td>
<td>An Tiarna na bhFáinní
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Japanese
</td>
<td>指輪物語
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Javanese
</td>
<td>Pangeran saka cincin
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Kannada
</td>
<td>ದಿ ಲಾರ್ಡ್ ಆಫ್ ದಿ ರಿಂಗ್ಸ್
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Kazakh
</td>
<td>Сақиналар әміршісі (Cyrillic) Saqïnalar ämirşisi (Latin)
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Korean
</td>
<td>반지의 제왕
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Kurdish
</td>
<td>شای ئەنگوستیلەکان (Sorani) Begê Gustîlan (Kurmanji)
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Kyrgyz Cyrillic
</td>
<td>Теңир шакеги
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Laotian
</td>
<td>ພຣະຜູ້ເປັນເຈົ້າຂອງແຫວນໄດ້
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Latin
</td>
<td>Dominus Anulorum
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Latvian
</td>
<td>Gredzenu pavēlnieks
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Lithuanian
</td>
<td>Žiedu Valdovas
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Lombard
</td>
<td>El Scior di Anei
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Luxembourgish
</td>
<td>Den Här vun de Réng
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Macedonian Cyrillic
</td>
<td>Господарот на Прстените
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Maithili
</td>
<td>द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Malayalam
</td>
<td>ദ ലോർഡ് ഓഫ് ദ റിങ്സ്
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Malaysian
</td>
<td>Raja Segala Cincin
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Maltese
</td>
<td>Il-Ħakkiem ta 'l-anelli
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Maori
</td>
<td>Te Ariki o nga Mowhiti
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Marathi
</td>
<td>द लॉर्ड ऑफ द रिंग्स
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Mongolian Cyrillic
</td>
<td>Бөгжний эзэн
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Montenegrin
</td>
<td>Gospodar Prstenova
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Nepalese
</td>
<td>द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Norwegian
</td>
<td>Ringenes Herre (Bokmål)
<p>Ringdrotten (Nynorsk)
</p>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Occitan
</td>
<td>Lo Senhor dels Anèls
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Old English
</td>
<td>Se Hlāford þāra Hringa
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Pashto
</td>
<td>د کړۍ_ګانې رب
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Persian
</td>
<td>ارباب حلقه ها
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Polish
</td>
<td>Władca Pierścieni
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Portuguese
</td>
<td>O Senhor dos Anéis (Brazil)
<p>A Irmandade do Anel (Portugal)
</p>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Punjabi
</td>
<td>لارڈ آف دا رنگز (Western Punjabi) ਦ ਲਾਰਡ ਆਫ਼ ਦ ਰਿੰਗਸ
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Quechua
</td>
<td>Siwikunap Apun
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Querétaro Otomi
</td>
<td>Ar 'ño̲ho̲ ya anillos
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Romanian
</td>
<td>Stăpânul Inelelor
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Russian
</td>
<td>Властелин колец
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Sardinian
</td>
<td>Su Sennore de sos Aneddos
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Scottish Gaelic
</td>
<td>Tha Tighearna nam Fàinnean
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Serbian
</td>
<td>Господар прстенова (Cyrillic) Gospodar Prstenova (Latin)
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Sinhalese
</td>
<td>මුදුවේ අධිපති
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Slovak
</td>
<td>Pán Prsteňov
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Slovenian
</td>
<td>Gospodar Prstanov
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Spanish
</td>
<td>El Señor de los Anillos
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Sundanese
</td>
<td>Gusti tina Cingcin
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Swahili
</td>
<td>Bwana wa Mapete
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Swedish (old)
<p><small>Swedish (new)</small>
</p>
</td>
<td>Härskarringen
<p><small>Ringarnas Herre</small>
</p>
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Tajik Cyrillic
</td>
<td>Парвардигори зиреҳҳои
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Tatar
</td>
<td>Йөзекләр Хуҗасы
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Telugu
</td>
<td>ఆ లార్డ్ ఆఫ్ ది రింగ్స్
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Tamil
</td>
<td>த லோட் ஒவ் த ரிங்ஸ்
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Thai
</td>
<td>เดอะลอร์ดออฟเดอะริงส์
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Turkish
</td>
<td>Yüzüklerin Efendisi
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Turkmen
</td>
<td>Ýüzükleriň Padşasy
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Ukrainian Cyrillic
</td>
<td>Володар перснів
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Urdu
</td>
<td>دی لارڈ آف دی رنگز
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Uzbek
</td>
<td>Узуклар Ҳукмдори (Cyrillic) Uzuklar Hukmdori (Latin)
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Vietnamese
</td>
<td>Chúa tể những chiếc nhẫn
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Welsh
</td>
<td>Yr Arglwydd y cylchoedd
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Yiddish
</td>
<td>דער האר פון די פינגערלעך
</td></tr></tbody></table>
<table>
<tbody><tr>
<th><b><a href="/wiki/J.R.R._Tolkien">J.R.R. Tolkien</a>'s <a href="/wiki/Middle-earth">Middle-earth</a> Legendarium</b>
</th></tr>
<tr>
<td>Published works
</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/The_Hobbit">The Hobbit</a></i> (1937) • <i><b><strong>The Lord of the Rings</strong></b></i> (<i><a href="/wiki/The_Fellowship_of_the_Ring_(novel)">The Fellowship of the Ring</a></i> [1954] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Two_Towers_(novel)">The Two Towers</a></i> [1954] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_King_(novel)">The Return of the King</a></i> [1955]) • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Tom_Bombadil">The Adventures of Tom Bombadil</a></i> [1962] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Road_Goes_Ever_On">The Road Goes Ever On</a></i> [1967]
</td></tr>
<tr>
<td>Posthumous publications
</td>
<td><i><a href="/wiki/Bilbo%27s_Last_Song">Bilbo's Last Song</a></i> [1974] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Silmarillion">The Silmarillion</a></i> [1977] • <i><a href="/wiki/Unfinished_Tales">Unfinished Tales</a></i> [1980] <br /> <i><b><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_Middle-earth">The History of Middle-earth</a></b></i> (<i><a href="/wiki/The_Book_of_Lost_Tales_Part_One">The Book of Lost Tales Part One</a></i> [1983] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Book_of_Lost_Tales_Part_Two">The Book of Lost Tales Part Two</a></i> [1984] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lays_of_Beleriand">The Lays of Beleriand</a></i> [1985] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Shaping_of_Middle-earth">The Shaping of Middle-earth</a></i> [1986] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Lost_Road_and_Other_Writings">The Lost Road and Other Writings</a></i> [1987] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Return_of_the_Shadow">The Return of the Shadow</a></i> [1988] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Treason_of_Isengard">The Treason of Isengard</a></i> [1989] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_War_of_the_Ring_(book)">The War of the Ring</a></i> [1990] • <i><a href="/wiki/Sauron_Defeated">Sauron Defeated</a></i> [1992] • <i><a href="/wiki/Morgoth%27s_Ring">Morgoth's Ring</a></i> [1993] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_War_of_the_Jewels_(book)">The War of the Jewels</a></i> [1994] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Peoples_of_Middle-earth">The Peoples of Middle-earth</a></i> [1996] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_History_of_Middle-earth:_Index">Index</a></i> [2006]) <br /> <i><b><a href="/wiki/Great_Tales">Great Tales</a></b></i> (<i><a href="/wiki/The_Children_of_H%C3%BArin">The Children of Húrin</a></i> [2007] • <i><a href="/wiki/Beren_and_L%C3%BAthien">Beren and Lúthien</a></i> [2017] • <i><a href="/wiki/The_Fall_of_Gondolin_(book)">The Fall of Gondolin (book)</a></i> [2018]) <br /> <i><a href="/wiki/The_Nature_of_Middle-earth">The Nature of Middle-earth</a></i> [2021]
<p><b>Articles about Middle-earth by...</b><br />
<a href="/wiki/List_of_Middle-earth_articles_by_category">Category</a> • <a href="/wiki/List_of_Middle-earth_articles">Name</a> • <a href="/wiki/List_of_Middle-earth_writings">Writings</a> • <a href="/wiki/List_of_characters">Characters</a> • <a href="/wiki/List_of_Middle-earth_peoples">Peoples</a> • <a href="/wiki/Category:Rivers">Rivers</a> • <a href="/wiki/Realms_of_Arda">Realms</a> • <a href="/wiki/Timeline_of_Arda">Ages</a>
</p>
</td></tr></tbody></table>
<h2>References</h2>
<div>
<h3>Text</h3>
<div>
<ul><li><cite>Tolkien, J.R.R. (1954 [2005]). <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>. Houghton Mifflin.</cite> </li></ul>
<p>paperback: <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618640150">ISBN 0-618-64015-0</a>
</p>
<ul><li><cite>Tolkien, J.R.R. (1937 [2002]). <i>The Hobbit</i>. Houghton Mifflin.</cite> </li></ul>
<p>paperback: <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618260307">ISBN 0-618-26030-7</a>
</p>
<ul><li><cite>Tolkien, J.R.R. (1977 [2004]). <i>The Silmarillion</i>. Houghton Mifflin.</cite> </li></ul>
<p>paperback: <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618391118">ISBN 0-618-39111-8</a>
</p>
</div>
<div><ol>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-1">↑</a> <a href="http://www.nationalgeographic.com/ngbeyond/rings/influences.html">World War I and World War II</a>. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-2">↑</a> <a href="http://www.tolkien.co.uk/information/faq.asp">Tolkien FAQ: How many languages have The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings been translated into?</a>
</li>
<li>↑ <sup><a href="#cite_ref-letters_3-0">3.0</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-letters_3-1">3.1</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-letters_3-2">3.2</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-letters_3-3">3.3</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-letters_3-4">3.4</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-letters_3-5">3.5</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-letters_3-6">3.6</a></sup> <cite>Tolkien, J.R.R. (1981). <i><i><a href="/wiki/The_Letters_of_J._R._R._Tolkien">The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien</a></i></i>. Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618056998">ISBN 0-618-05699-8</a>.</cite> 
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-4">↑</a> <a href="http://www.dummies.com/WileyCDA/DummiesArticle/id-2287.html">Exploring the Diverse Lands of Middle-earth</a>. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-5">↑</a> <a href="http://www.cliffsnotes.com/WileyCDA/LitNote/id-172,pageNum-49.html">The Return of the King: Summaries and Commentaries: Appendices</a>. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-6">↑</a> <a href="http://www.tolkiensociety.org/tolkien/biography.html">J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch</a>. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-7">↑</a> <cite>Gilliver, Peter (2006). <i>The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary</i>. Oxford University Press. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0198610696">ISBN 0-19-861069-6</a>.</cite> 
</li>
<li>↑ <sup><a href="#cite_ref-surge_8-0">8.0</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-surge_8-1">8.1</a></sup> Gilsdorf, Ethan (November 16, <a href="/wiki/2003">2003</a>). <a href="http://www.boston.com/news/globe/magazine/articles/2003/11/16/lord_of_the_gold_ring/">Lord of the Gold Ring</a>. <i>The Boston Globe</i>. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
</li>
<li>↑ <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-0">9.0</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-1">9.1</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-2">9.2</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-3">9.3</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-4">9.4</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-5">9.5</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-6">9.6</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-7">9.7</a></sup> <sup><a href="#cite_ref-genesis_9-8">9.8</a></sup> <a href="http://web.archive.org/web/20030817081254/http://www.uni-klu.ac.at/~jkoeberl/Courses/Tolkien/l_04_genesis.pdf">The Lord of the Rings: Genesis</a>. Archived from <a href="http://www.uni-klu.ac.at/~jkoeberl/Courses/Tolkien/l_04_genesis.pdf">the original</a> on 2003-08-17. Retrieved on 2006-06-14.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-10">↑</a> <a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Tom Shippey</a>, <i><a href="/wiki/The_Road_to_Middle-earth">The Road to Middle-earth</a></i> Revised and Expanded Edition
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-11">↑</a> <a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Tom Shippey</a>, <i><a href="/wiki/J.R.R._Tolkien:_Author_of_the_Century">J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century</a></i>
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-12">↑</a> <a href="/wiki/Tom_Shippey">Tom Shippey</a>, <i><a href="/wiki/J.R.R._Tolkien:_Author_of_the_Century">J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century</a></i>, Ch. 2, pg. 54
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-13">↑</a> <i><a href="/wiki/The_Letters_of_J.R.R._Tolkien">The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien</a></i>, <a href="/wiki/Letter_131">Letter 131</a>, pg. 145
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-14">↑</a> Socher, Abe (April 19, <a href="/wiki/2005">2005</a>). <a href="http://chronicle.com/jobs/2005/04/2005041901c.htm">Grading Blues</a>. <i>Chronicle Careers</i>. Retrieved on 2006-04-22.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-15">↑</a> <cite>Tolkien, J.R.R. (1990). <i><a href="/wiki/The_War_of_the_Ring_(book)">The War of the Ring</a>: The History of The Lord of the Rings, Part Three</i>. Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618083596">ISBN 0-618-08359-6</a>.</cite> 
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-16">↑</a> <a href="http://www.tolkien.co.uk/information/faq.asp#12">How many languages have The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings been translated into?</a>. Retrieved on 3 June 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-17">↑</a> <a href="http://www.nationalgeographic.com/ngbeyond/rings/influences.html">Influences of Lord of the Ring</a>. Retrieved on 16 April 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-18">↑</a> Steven D. Greydanus. <a href="http://www.decentfilms.com/sections/articles/2559">Faith and Fantasy: Tolkien the Catholic, The Lord of the Rings, and Peter Jackson’s Film Trilogy</a>. Retrieved on 4 June 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-19">↑</a> <a href="http://www.nationalgeographic.com/ngbeyond/rings/language.html">Cultural and Linguistic Conservation</a>. Retrieved on 16 April 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-la_Hood_20-0">↑</a> <a href="http://www.theonering.net/perl/newsview/8/1054032089">The LOTR Props Exhibition: Steve la Hood Speaks</a>. Retrieved on 14 June 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-21">↑</a> <cite>Tolkien, J.R.R. (1991). <i>The Lord of the Rings</i>. HarperCollins. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0261102389">ISBN 0-261-10238-9</a>.</cite> 
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-22">↑</a> <a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbninquiry.asp?z=y&amp;ean=9780345339706&amp;displayonly=REV">From the Critics</a>. Retrieved on May 30, 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-23">↑</a> <a href="http://www.theonering.com/docs/2437.html">Hobbits in Hollywood</a>. Retrieved on May 13, 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-24">↑</a> Richard Jenkyns. "Bored of the Rings." <i>The New Republic.</i> January 28, 2002. <a href="http://www.tnr.com/doc.mhtml?i=20020128&amp;s=jenkyns20020128&amp;c=1">[1]</a>
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-25">↑</a> Wilson, A.N.. "<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/4726760/Tolkien-was-not-a-writer.html">Tolkien was not a writer</a>", <i><a href="http://telegraph.co.uk/">telegraph.co.uk</a></i>, Telegraph Group Limited, 2001-11-24. Retrieved on 2013-11-30. 
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-26">↑</a> <a href="http://www.davidbrin.com/tolkienarticle1.html">We Hobbits are a Merry Folk: an incautious and heretical re-appraisal of J.R.R. Tolkien</a>. Retrieved on 9 January 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-27">↑</a> Moorcock, Michael. <a href="http://www.revolutionsf.com/article.html?id=953">Epic Pooh</a>. Retrieved on 27 January 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-28">↑</a> <a href="http://www.lordotrings.com/biography.asp">J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch</a>. Retrieved on June 14, 2006.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-29">↑</a> Seiler, Andy (December 16, <a href="/wiki/2003">2003</a>). <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/life/movies/news/2003-12-12-lotr-main_x.htm">'Rings' comes full circle</a>. <i>USA Today</i>. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-30">↑</a> Cooper, Callista (December 5, <a href="/wiki/2005">2005</a>). <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/newsitems/200512/s1523327.htm">Epic trilogy tops favourite film poll</a>. <i>ABC News Online</i>. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-31">↑</a> O'Hehir, Andrew (June 4, <a href="/wiki/2001">2001</a>). <a href="http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2001/06/04/tolkien/">The book of the century</a>. <i>Salon.com</i>. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-32">↑</a> Diver, Krysia (October 5, <a href="/wiki/2004">2004</a>). <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2004/10/04/1096871805007.html?from=storyrhs">A lord for Germany</a>. <i>The Sydney Morning Herald</i>. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-33">↑</a> <a href="http://www.theonering.net/features/interviews/gary_gygax.html">Gary Gygax - Creator of Dungeons &amp; Dragons</a>. Retrieved on 2006-05-28.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-34">↑</a> <cite> (1996) <i>Club Nintendo (Germany)</i>. Nintendo of Europe. “Takashi Tezuka, a great lover of fantasy novels such as Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, wrote the script for the first two games in the Zelda series.”</cite> 
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-35">↑</a> Douglass, Perry (May 17, <a href="/wiki/2006">2006</a>). <a href="http://xbox.ign.com/articles/709/709122p1.html">The Influence of Literature and Myth in Videogames</a>. <i>IGN</i>. Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-36">↑</a> <a href="http://atimes.com./atimes/others/spengler.html">The Complete Spengler</a>. <i>Asian Times Online</i> (May 29, <a href="/wiki/2006">2006</a>). Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-37">↑</a> <a href="http://www.iblist.com/book.php?id=130">http://www.iblist.com/book.php?id=130</a>
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-38">↑</a> <a href="http://www.jitterbug.com/origins/lotr.html">Star Wars Origins - The Lord of the Rings</a>. <i>Star Wars Origins</i>. Retrieved on 2006-09-19.
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-39">↑</a> <cite>Carpenter, Humphrey (2000). <i>J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography</i>. Houghton Mifflin. <a href="/wiki/Special:BookSources/0618057021">ISBN 0-618-05702-1</a>.</cite> 
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-40">↑</a> <i>White Dwarf Magazine</i>, #304
</li>
<li><a href="#cite_ref-41">↑</a> Drake, Matt (June 29, <a href="/wiki/2005">2005</a>). <a href="http://www.rpg.net/reviews/archive/11/11348.phtml">Review of Lord of the Rings</a>. <i>RPGnet</i>. Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
</li>
</ol></div>
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 The Lord of the Rings

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 First edition copies of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings

 The Lord of the Rings

 Author

 J.R.R. Tolkien

 Genre

 High fantasy, Adventure

 Released

 July 29, 1954 (The Fellowship of the Ring)
 November 11, 1954 (The Two Towers)
 October 20, 1955 (The Return of the King)

 Publisher

 George Allen & Unwin(United Kingdom)

 OCLC

 1487587

 Cover of the 50th Anniversary One-Volume Edition

 Cover of the The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power tie-in One-Volume Edition

 The Lord of the Rings is an epic high fantasy novel written by J.R.R. Tolkien, which was later fitted as a trilogy. The story began as a sequel to Tolkien's earlier fantasy book The Hobbit, and soon developed into a much larger story. At publication, it was divided into The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King.

 Written in stages between 1937 and 1949, with much of it during World War II[1], it was originally published in three volumes in 1954 and 1955. It has since been reprinted numerous times and translated into at least 38 different languages[2], becoming one of the most popular works of twentieth-century literature.

 The action in The Lord of the Rings is set in what the author conceived to be the lands of the real Earth, inhabited by humanity but placed in a fictional past, before familiar history but after the fall of his version of Atlantis, Númenor.[3] Tolkien gave this setting a modern English name, Middle-earth, a rendering of the Old English Middangeard.[4]

 Contents

 * 1 Main conflict
 * 2 Backstory
 * 3 Synopsis
 * 4 Characters
 + 4.1 Good (excluding most minor characters)
 + 4.2 Evil
 * 5 Background
 + 5.1 Writing
 + 5.2 Publication
 + 5.3 Publication history
 + 5.4 Influences
 + 5.5 Critical response
 * 6 Adaptations
 * 7 Influences on the fantasy genre
 * 8 Pop culture references
 * 9 Further reading
 * 10 See also
 + 10.1 Books
 + 10.2 Films
 * 11 External links
 * 12 Translations
 * 13 References
 + 13.1 Text

 Main conflict

 The story concerns peoples such as Hobbits, Elves, Men, Dwarves, Wizards, and Orcs (called goblins in The Hobbit), and centers on the Ring of Power made by the Dark Lord Sauron. Starting from quiet beginnings in the Shire, the story ranges across Middle-earth and follows the courses of the War of the Ring. The main story is followed by six appendices that provide a wealth of historical and linguistic background material,[5] as well as an index listing every character, place, song, and sword.

 Along with Tolkien's other writings, The Lord of the Rings has been subjected to extensive analysis of its literary themes and origins. Although a major work in itself, the story is merely the last movement of a larger mythological cycle, or legendarium, that Tolkien had worked on for many years since 1917.[6] Influences on this earlier work, and on the story of The Lord of the Rings, include philology, mythology and religion, as well as earlier fantasy works and Tolkien's experiences in World War I. The Lord of the Rings in its turn is considered to have had a great impact on modern fantasy, and the impact of Tolkien's works is such that the use of the words "Tolkienian" and "Tolkienesque" have been recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary.[7]

 The immense and enduring popularity of The Lord of the Rings has led to numerous references in popular culture, the founding of many societies by fans of Tolkien's works, and a large number of books about Tolkien and his works being published. The Lord of the Rings has inspired (and continues to inspire) short stories, video games, artworks and musical works (see Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien). Numerous adaptations of Tolkien's works have been made for a wide range of media. Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings in particular have been made for the radio, for the theatre, and for film. The 2001–2003 release of The Lord of the Rings film trilogy saw a surge of interest in The Lord of the Rings and Tolkien's other works.[8]

 Backstory

 The back story begins thousands of years before the action in the book, with the rise of the eponymous Lord of the Rings, the Dark Lord Sauron, a malevolent reincarnated deity who possessed great supernatural powers and who later became the ruler of the dreaded realm of Mordor. At the end of the First Age of Middle-earth, Sauron survived the catastrophic defeat and chaining of his lord, the ultimate Dark Lord, Morgoth (who was formerly counted as one of the Valar, the angelic Powers of the world). During the Second Age, Sauron schemed to gain dominion over Middle-earth. In the disguise as "Annatar" or Lord of Gifts, he aided Celebrimbor and other Elven-smiths of Eregion in the forging of magical Rings of Power which conferred various powers and effects on their wearers. The most important of these were the Nine, the Seven and the Three (which he did not touch or know of the three.) called the Rings of Power or Great Rings.

 However, he then secretly forged a Great Ring of his own, the One Ring, by which he planned to enslave the wearers of the other Rings of Power. This plan failed when the Elves became aware of him and took off their Rings. Sauron then launched a war during which he captured sixteen and distributed them to lords and kings of Dwarves and Men; these Rings were known as the Seven and Nine respectively. The Dwarf-lords proved too tough to be enslaved, although their natural desire for wealth, especially gold, increased; this brought more conflict between them and other races, and fed a dangerous greed. The Men who received the Nine rings were slowly corrupted over time and eventually became the Nazgûl, Sauron's most feared servants. The Three Rings Sauron failed to capture, and remained in the possession of the Elves (who forged these independently). The war ended as Men of the island-kingdom of Númenor helped the besieged Elves, and Sauron's forces were practically destroyed. At this time he still held most of Middle-earth, excluding the coasts, Imladris (Rivendell) and the Gulf of Lune.

 A map of Númenor (called Andor by the Elves)

 Over 1500 years later, word reached the King of Númenor, Ar-Pharazôn, that Sauron had claimed the title "King of Men". This provoked Ar-Pharazôn and gave him an opportunity to display the glory and strength of Númenor. He arrived in Middle-earth with such overwhelming force that Sauron's armies fled at the sight of the Númenóreans. Abandoned by his minions, Sauron surrendered to the Númenóreans, and was taken to Númenor as a "prisoner". Sauron then started to poison the minds of the Númenóreans against the Valar. Thus, Sauron set into motion events that brought about Númenor's destruction. He did this by corrupting the King's mind, telling him that the immortality of the Elves was his to take if he set foot upon the lands of Aman, the Blessed Realm, where Valinor, the realm of the Valar, was located. Fearing death, Ar-Pharazôn led an invasion of Aman and Valinor with the greatest host seen since the end of the First Age. However, upon reaching Aman, he and his army were buried by a landslide, and there they would remain until the Final Battle in Tolkien's eschatology. Manwë, the King of Arda, called upon Eru Ilúvatar (God), who opened a great chasm in the sea, destroying Númenor, and removed the Undying Lands from the mortal world. The destruction of Númenor destroyed Sauron's physical body and his ability to take a fair and handsome shape, but his spirit returned to Mordor and assumed a new form: black, "burning hot", and terrible.

 Over 100 years later, he launched an attack against the Númenórean exiles (The Faithful, who did not join Ar-Pharazôn's expedition), who managed to escape to Middle-earth. However, the exiles (led by Elendil and his sons Isildur and Anárion) had time to prepare, and, after forming the Last Alliance of Elves and Men with the Elven-king Gil-galad, they marched against Mordor, defeated Sauron on the plain of Dagorlad, and besieged Barad-dûr, at which time Anárion was slain. After seven years of siege, Sauron himself was ultimately forced to engage in single combat with the leaders. Gil-galad and Elendil perished in the struggle, and Elendil's sword, Narsil, broke beneath him. However, Sauron's body was also overcome and slain,[3] and Isildur cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand with the hilt-shard of Narsil, and at this Sauron's spirit fled and he did not reappear for a millenium. Isildur was advised to destroy the One Ring by the only way it could be — by casting it into the volcanic Mount Doom where it was forged — but he refused, attracted to its beauty and kept it as compensation for the deaths of his father and brother (weregild).

 So began the Third Age of the Sun. Two years later, while journeying to Rivendell, Isildur and his soldiers were ambushed by a band of Orcs at the Disaster of the Gladden Fields. While the latter were almost all killed, Isildur escaped by putting on the Ring — which made mortal wearers invisible. However, the Ring slipped from his finger while he was swimming in the great River Anduin; he was killed by Orc-arrows and the Ring was lost for two millennia. It was then found by chance by a Stoor named Déagol. His relative and friend[3] Sméagol strangled him for the Ring and was banished from his home by his maternal grandmother. He fled to the Misty Mountains where he slowly withered and became a disgusting, slimy creature called Gollum.

 In The Hobbit, set 60 years before the events in The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien relates the story of the seemingly accidental finding of the Ring by another hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, who takes it to his home, Bag End. Story-externally, the tale related in The Hobbit was written before The Lord of the Rings, and it was only later that the author developed Bilbo's magic ring into the "One Ring." Neither Bilbo nor the wizard, Gandalf, are aware at this point that Bilbo's magic ring is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron.

 Synopsis

 Middle-earth during the Third Age

 The Lord of the Rings takes up the story about 60 years after the end of The Hobbit. The story begins in the first volume, The Fellowship of the Ring, when Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's adoptive heir, came into possession of Bilbo's magic ring. Bilbo's old friend, Gandalf the Grey, who got Bilbo involved in the adventures in The Hobbit that led to the discovery of the Ring, discovered that it was in fact the One Ring, the instrument of Sauron's power and the object for which the Dark Lord has been searching for most of the Third Age, and which corrupted others with desire for it and the power it held.

 Sauron sent the sinister Nazgûl, in the guise of riders in black, to the Shire, Frodo's native land, in search of the Ring. Frodo escaped, with the help of his loyal gardener Samwise Gamgee and three close friends, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Fredegar Bolger. While Fredegar acted as decoy for the Ringwraiths, Frodo and the others set off to take the Ring to the Elven haven of Rivendell. They were aided by the enigmatic Tom Bombadil, who saved them from Old Man Willow and took them in for a few days of feasting, rest, and counsel. At the town of Bree, Frodo's party was joined by a man called "Strider", who was revealed, in a letter left by Gandalf at the local inn for Frodo, to be Aragorn, the heir to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor, two great realms founded by the Númenórean exiles. Aragorn led the hobbits to Rivendell on Gandalf's request. However, Frodo was gravely wounded by the leader of the Ringwraiths, though he managed to recover under the care of lord Elrond, the Half-elf.

 In Rivendell, the hobbits also learned that Sauron's forces could only be resisted if Aragorn took up his inheritance and fulfilled an ancient prophecy by wielding the sword Andúril, which had been forged anew from the shards of Narsil, the sword that cut the Ring from Sauron's finger in the Second Age. The treachery of Saruman, formerly head of the White Council and now in league with Sauron is also revealed. A high council, attended by representatives of the major races of Middle-earth; Elves, Dwarves, and Men, and presided over by Elrond, decide that the only course of action that can save Middle-earth is to destroy the Ring by taking it to Mordor and casting it into Mount Doom, where it was forged.

 Frodo volunteered for the task, and a "Fellowship of the Ring" was formed to aid him — consisting of Frodo, his three Hobbit companions, Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir of Gondor, Gimli the Dwarf, and Legolas the Elf. Their journey took them through the Mines of Moria, where they began to be followed by the creature Gollum, whom Bilbo had met in the Goblin-caves of the Misty Mountains years before. (The full tale of their meeting is told in The Hobbit.) Gollum long possessed the Ring before it passed to Bilbo. Gandalf explained that Gollum belonged to a people "of hobbit-kind" before he came upon the Ring, which corrupted him. A slave to the Ring's evil power, Gollum desperately sought to regain his "Precious." As they proceeded through the Mines, Pippin unintentionally betrayed their presence and the party was attacked by creatures of Sauron. Gandalf battled an ancient demon, a Balrog, and fell into a deep chasm, apparently to his death. Escaping from Moria, the Fellowship, now led by Aragorn, go to the Elven realm of Lothlórien. Here, the Lady Galadriel showed Frodo and Sam visions of the past, present, and future. Frodo also saw the Eye of Sauron, a metaphysical expression of Sauron himself, and Galadriel was tempted by the Ring. By the end of the first volume, after the Fellowship has travelled along the great River Anduin, Frodo decided to continue the trek to Mordor on his own, largely due to the Ring's growing influence on Boromir; however, the faithful Sam insisted on going with him.

 In the second volume, The Two Towers, a parallel story, told in the first book of the volume, details the exploits of the remaining members of the Fellowship who aid the country of Rohan in its war against the emerging evil of Saruman, leader of the Order of Wizards, who wanted the Ring for himself. At the start of the first book, the Fellowship was further scattered; Merry and Pippin were captured by Sauron and Saruman's Orcs, Boromir was mortally wounded defending them, and Aragorn and the others went off in pursuit of the Hobbits captors. The three meet Gandalf, who has returned to Middle-earth as "Gandalf the White": they found out that he slew the Balrog of Moria, and although the battle also proved fatal to Gandalf, he was then sent back and "reborn" as a more imposing figure. At the end of the first book, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli help defeat Saruman's armies at the Battle of the Hornburg while Saruman himself was cornered by the tree-like Ents and Huorns, accompanied by Merry and Pippin, who escaped from captivity, and the two groups are reunited.

 The second book of the volume tells of Frodo and Sam's exploits on the way to Mount Doom. They managed to capture and "tame" Gollum, who then showed them a way to enter Mordor secretly (as opposed to the Black Gate), albeit through the dreaded realm of Minas Morgul. At the end of the volume, Gollum betrayed Frodo to the great spider, Shelob, and though he survived, he was captured by Orcs. Meanwhile, Sauron launched an all-out military assault upon Middle-earth, with the Witch-king (leader of the Ringwraiths) leading a fell host from Minas Morgul into battle against Gondor, in the War of the Ring.

 In the third volume, The Return of the King, the further adventures of Gandalf, Aragorn and company are related in the first book of the volume, while Frodo and Sam's are related in the second, as with The Two Towers. As told in the first book, the Fellowship assisted in the final battles against the armies of Sauron, including the siege of the city of Minas Tirith in Gondor and the climactic life-or-death battle before the Black Gate of Mordor, where the alliance of Gondor and Rohan fought desperately against Sauron's armies in order to distract him from the Ring, hoping to gain time for Frodo to destroy it.

 In the second book, Sam rescued Frodo from captivity. After much struggle, they finally reached Mount Doom itself, tailed by Gollum. However, the temptation of the Ring proved too great for Frodo and he claimed it for himself. However, Gollum struggled with him and managed to bite the Ring off. Crazed with triumph, Gollum slipped into the fires of the mountain, and the Ring was destroyed.

 Finally, Sauron was defeated, and Aragorn was crowned king. However, all was not over, for Saruman managed to escape and scour the Shire before being overthrown. At the end, Frodo remained wounded in body and spirit and went west accompanied by Bilbo over the Sea to Valinor, where he could find peace.

 According to Tolkien's timeline, the events depicted in the story occurred between Bilbo's announcement of his September 22, 3001 birthday party, and Sam's return to Bag End on October 6, 3021. Most of the events portrayed in the story occur in TA 3018 and TA 3019, with Frodo heading out from Bag End on September 23 3018, and the destruction of the Ring six months later on March 25, 3019.

 Characters

 For character information see: List of characters

 Good (excluding most minor characters)

 * Aragorn
 * Gimli
 * Legolas
 * Gandalf
 * Boromir
 * Frodo Baggins
 * Samwise Gamgee
 * Peregrin Took
 * Meriadoc Brandybuck
 * Bilbo Baggins
 * Elrond
 * Glorfindel
 * Arwen
 * Elladan
 * Elrohir
 * Thranduil
 * Haldir
 * Celeborn
 * Galadriel
 * Gwaihir
 * Balin (mentioned)
 * Glóin
 * Dáin II Ironfoot (mentioned)
 * Faramir
 * Denethor II
 * Beregond
 * Treebeard
 * Théoden
 * Éomer
 * Éowyn
 * Háma
 * Gamling
 * Théodred

 Evil

 * Sauron
 * Witch-king of Angmar
 * Mouth of Sauron
 * Nazgûl
 * Gorbag
 * Shagrat
 * Saruman
 * Gríma Wormtongue
 * Uglúk
 * Gollum
 * Shelob
 * Durin's Bane, a Balrog

 Background

 Writing

 The Lord of the Rings 
 Volume I - Volume II - Volume III
 

 The Lord of the Rings in conception was meant as a sequel The Hobbit, his tale for children published in 1937.[9] The popularity of The Hobbit led to demands from his publishers for more stories about Hobbits and goblins, and so that same year Tolkien began writing what would become The Lord of the Rings - not to be finished until 12 years later in 1949, not be fully published until 1955, by which time Tolkien would be 63 years old.

 Tolkien did not originally intend to write a sequel to The Hobbit, and instead wrote several other children's tales such as Roverandom. As his main work, Tolkien began to outline the history of Arda, telling tales of the Silmarils, and many other stories forming the vast background to The Lord of the Rings and the Third Age. Tolkien died before he could complete and put together all of this work cohesively, but his son Christopher Tolkien edited his father's work, filled in gaps, and published it in 1977 as The Silmarillion.[10] Some Tolkien biographers regard The Silmarillion as the true "work of his heart"[11], as it provides the historical and linguistic context for the more popular work and for his constructed languages, and had occupied most of Tolkien's adult life. As a result The Lord of the Rings ended up as the last movement of Tolkien's legendarium and, to him, the "much larger, and I hope also in proportion the best, of the entire cycle".[3]

 Persuaded by his publishers, he started 'a new Hobbit' in the third week of December 1937.[12] After several false starts, the story of the One Ring soon emerged, and the book mutated from being a sequel to The Hobbit, to being, in theme, more a sequel to the unpublished Silmarillion. The idea of the first chapter (A Long-expected Party) arrived fully-formed, although the reasons behind Bilbo's disappearance, the significance of the Ring, and the title The Lord of the Rings did not arrive until the spring of 1938.[9] Originally, he planned to write another story in which Bilbo had used up all his treasure and was looking for another adventure to gain more; however, he remembered the ring and its powers and decided to write about it instead.[9] He began with Bilbo as the main character but decided that the story was too serious to use the fun-loving hobbit and so Tolkien looked to use a member of Bilbo's family.[9] He thought about using Bilbo's son, but this generated some difficult questions, such as the whereabouts of his wife and whether he would let his son go into danger. Thus he looked for an alternate character to carry the ring. In Greek legend, it was a hero's nephew that gained the item of power, and so the hobbit Frodo came into existence.[9]

 "As the high Legends of the beginning are supposed to look at things through Elvish minds, so the middle tale of the Hobbit takes a virtually human point of view - and the last tale [The Lord of the Rings] blends them." —Tolkien on The Silmarillion, The Hobbit, and The Lord of the Rings respectively[13]

 Writing was slow due to Tolkien's perfectionism and a wartime shortage of paper. It was frequently interrupted by his obligations as an examiner, and other academic duties.

 The first sentence of The Hobbit was in fact written on a blank page which a student had left on an exam paper which Tolkien was marking — "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit."[14] He seems to have abandoned The Lord of the Rings during most of 1943 and only restarted it in April 1944.[9] This effort was written as a serial for Christopher Tolkien and C.S. Lewis — the former would be sent copies of chapters as they were written while he was serving in Africa in the Royal Air Force. He made another push in 1946, and showed a copy of the manuscript to his publishers in 1947.[9] The story was effectively finished the next year, but Tolkien did not finish revising earlier parts of the work until 1949.[9]

 A dispute with his publishers, Allen & Unwin, led to the book being offered to HarperCollins in 1950. He intended The Silmarillion (itself largely unrevised at this point) to be published along with The Lord of the Rings, but A&U were unwilling to do this. After his contact at Collins, Milton Waldman, expressed the belief that The Lord of the Rings itself "urgently needed cutting", he eventually demanded that they publish the book in 1952. They did not do so, and so Tolkien wrote to Allen and Unwin, saying "I would gladly consider the publication of any part of the stuff."[9]

 Publication

 For publication, due largely to post-war paper shortages, but also to keep the price of the first volume down, the book was divided into three volumes: The Fellowship of the Ring: Books I and II, The Two Towers: Books III and IV, and The Return of the King: Books V and VI plus 6 appendices. Delays in producing appendices, maps and especially indices led to these being published later than originally hoped — on 21 July 1954, 11 November 1954 and 20 October 1955 respectively in the United Kingdom, slightly later in the United States. The Return of the King was especially delayed. Tolkien, moreover, did not especially like the title The Return of the King, believing it gave away too much of the storyline. He had originally suggested War of the Ring, which was dismissed by his publishers.[15]

 Dust jacket of the 1968 UK edition

 The books were published under a 'profit-sharing' arrangement, whereby Tolkien would not receive an advance or royalties until the books had broken even, after which he would take a large share of the profits. An index to the entire 3-volume set at the end of third volume was promised in the first volume. However, this proved impractical to compile in a reasonable timescale. Later, in 1966, four indices, not compiled by Tolkien, were added to The Return of the King. Because the three-volume binding was so widely distributed, the work is often referred to as the Lord of the Rings "trilogy." In a letter to W. H. Auden, Tolkien himself made use of the term "trilogy" for the work (The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien, #163) though he did at other times consider this incorrect, as it was written and conceived as a single book (Letters, #149). It is also often called a novel; however, Tolkien also objected to this term as he viewed it as a romance (Letters, #329; "romance" in this sense refers to a heroic tale).

 A 1999 (Millennium Edition) British (ISBN 0-261-10387-3) 7-volume box set followed the six-book division authored by Tolkien, with the Appendices from the end of The Return of the King bound as a separate volume. The letters of Tolkien appeared on the spines of the boxed set which included a CD. To coincide with the film release, a new version of this popular edition was released featuring images from the films, such as:

 * I - Frodo climbing the steps to Bag End
 * II - Aragorn and Arwen in Rivendell
 * III - Gandalf in Moria
 * IV - A swan boat from Lothlórien
 * V - A Black Rider from the 'Flight to the Ford' sequence
 * VI - The tower of Cirith Ungol (although this image featured in many of the promotional books (e.g. the 'FotR Photo Guide') from the first film, it did not feature in the films until Return of the King)
 * App. - Frodo's hand holding the One Ring

 This new imprint (ISBN 0-00-763555-9) also omitted the CD. The individual names for books in this series were decided posthumously, based on a combination of suggestions Tolkien had made during his lifetime and the titles of the existing volumes — viz:

 * T Book I: The Return of the Shadow
 * O Book II: The Fellowship of the Ring
 * L Book III: The Treason of Isengard
 * K Book IV: The Journey to Mordor
 * I Book V: The War of the Ring
 * E Book VI: The Return of the King
 * N Appendices

 The name of the complete work is often abbreviated to 'LotR', 'LOTR', or simply 'LR' (Tolkien himself used L.R.), and the three volumes as FR, FOTR, or FotR (The Fellowship of the Ring), TT or TTT (The Two Towers), and RK, ROTK, or RotK (The Return of the King).

 Note that the titles The Return of the Shadow, The Treason of Isengard and The War of the Ring were used by Christopher Tolkien in The History of The Lord of the Rings.

 Publication history

 The three parts were first published by Allen & Unwin in 1954–1955, several months apart. They have since been reissued many times by multiple publishers, as one, three, six or seven volume sets. The two most common current printings are ISBN 0-618-34399-7 (one-volume) and ISBN 0-618-34624-4 (three volume set). In the early 1960s, Donald A. Wollheim, science fiction editor of the paperback publisher Ace Books, realized that The Lord of the Rings was not protected in the United States under American copyright law because the US hardcover edition had been bound from pages printed in the United Kingdom, with the original intention being for them to be printed in the British edition. Ace Books proceeded to publish an edition, unauthorized by Tolkien and without royalties to him. Tolkien took issue with this and quickly notified his fans of this objection. Grass-roots pressure from these fans became so great that Ace books withdrew their edition and made a nominal payment to Tolkien, well below what he might have been due in an appropriate publication. However, this poor beginning was overshadowed when an authorized edition followed from Ballantine Books to tremendous commercial success. By the mid-1960s the books, due to their wide exposure on the American public stage, had become a true cultural phenomenon. Also at this time Tolkien undertook various textual revisions to produce a version of the book that would have a valid US copyright. This would later become known as the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings.

 The books have been translated, with various degrees of success, into dozens of other languages.[16] Tolkien, an expert in philology, examined many of these translations, and had comments on each that reflect both the translation process and his work. To aid translators, Tolkien wrote his Guide to the Names in The Lord of the Rings. Because The Lord of the Rings is said to be a translation of the Red Book of Westmarch, translators have an unusual degree of freedom when translating The Lord of the Rings. This allows for such translations as Elf becoming Elb in German — Elb does not carry the connotations of mischief that its English counterpart does and therefore is more true to the work that Tolkien created. In contrast to the usual modern practice, names intended to have a particular meaning in the English version are translated to provide a similar meaning in the target language: in German, for example, the name "Baggins" becomes "Beutlin," containing the word Beutel meaning "bag."

 In 1990 Recorded Books published an unabridged audio version of the books, and hired British actor Rob Inglis , who had starred in a one-man production of The Hobbit, to read. Inglis performs the books verbatim, using distinct voices for each character, and sings all of the songs. Tolkien had written music for some of the songs in the book. For the rest, Inglis, along with director Claudia Howard wrote additional music. The current ISBN is 1402516274.

 Influences

 The Lord of the Rings began as a personal exploration by Tolkien of his interests in philology, religion (particularly Roman Catholicism), fairy tales, as well as Norse and Celtic mythology, but it was also crucially influenced by the effects of his military service during World War I.[17] Tolkien detailed his creation to an astounding extent; he created a complete mythology for his realm of Middle-earth, including genealogies of characters, languages, writing systems, calendars and histories. Some of this supplementary material is detailed in the appendices to The Lord of the Rings, and the mythological history woven into a large, biblically-styled volume entitled The Silmarillion. However many parts of the world he crafted, as he freely admitted, are influenced by other sources.

 Tolkien's largest influences in the creation of his world were his Catholic faith and the Bible.[18] Tolkien once described The Lord of the Rings to his friend, the English Jesuit Father Robert Murray, as "a fundamentally religious and Catholic work, unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision."[3] There are many theological themes underlying the narrative including the battle of good versus evil, the triumph of humility over pride, and the activity of grace. In addition the saga includes themes which incorporate death and immortality, mercy and pity, resurrection, salvation, repentance, self-sacrifice, free will, justice, fellowship, authority and healing. In addition the Lord's Prayer "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil" was reportedly present in Tolkien's mind as he described Frodo's struggles against the power of the One Ring.[3]

 Non-Christian religious motifs also had strong influences in Tolkien's Middle-earth. His Ainur, a race of angelic beings who are responsible for conceptualising the world, includes the Valar, the pantheon of "gods" who are responsible for the maintenance of everything from skies and seas to dreams and doom, and their servants, the Maiar. The concept of the Valar echoes Greek and Norse mythologies, although the Ainur and the world itself are all creations of a monotheistic deity — Ilúvatar or Eru, "The One". As the external practice of Middle-earth religion is downplayed in The Lord of the Rings, explicit information about them is only given in the different versions of Silmarillion material. However, there remain allusions to this aspect of Tolkien's mythos, including "the Great Enemy" who was Sauron's master and "Elbereth, Queen of Stars" (Morgoth and Varda respectively, two of the Valar) in the main text, the "Authorities" (referring to the Valar, literally Powers) in the Prologue, and "the One" in Appendix A. Other non-Christian mythological elements can be seen, including other sentient non-humans (Dwarves, Elves, Hobbits and Ents), a "Green Man" (Tom Bombadil), and spirits or ghosts (Barrow-wights, Oathbreakers).

 Gandalf the "Odinic wanderer", from a book cover by John Howe

 The mythologies from northern Europe are perhaps the best known non-Christian influences on Tolkien. His Elves and Dwarves are by and large based on Norse and related Germanic mythologies.[citation needed] The figure of Gandalf is particularly influenced by the Germanic deity Odin in his incarnation as "the Wanderer", an old man with one eye, a long white beard, a wide brimmed hat, and a staff; Tolkien states that he thinks of Gandalf as an "Odinic wanderer" in a letter of 1946.[3] Finnish mythology and more specifically the Finnish national epic Kalevala were also acknowledged by Tolkien as an influence on Middle-earth. [citation needed] In a similar manner to The Lord of the Rings, the Kalevala centers around a magical item of great power, the Sampo, which bestows great fortune on its owner but never makes its exact nature clear. Like the One Ring, the Sampo is fought over by forces of good and evil, and is ultimately lost to the world as it is destroyed towards the end of the story. In another parallel, the latter work's wizard character Väinämöinen also has many similarities to Gandalf in his immortal origins and wise nature, and both works end with their respective wizard departing on a ship to lands beyond the mortal world. Tolkien also based his Elvish language Quenya on Finnish.[19]

 In addition The Lord of the Rings was crucially influenced by Tolkien's experiences during World War I and his son's during World War II. The central action of the books — a climactic, age-ending war between good and evil — is the central event of many world mythologies, notably Norse, but it is also a clear reference to the well-known description of World War I, which was commonly referred to as "the war to end all wars." After the publication of The Lord of the Rings these influences led to speculation that the One Ring was an allegory for the nuclear bomb.[20] Tolkien, however, repeatedly insisted that his works were not an allegory of any kind. However there is a strong theme of despair in the face of new mechanized warfare that Tolkien himself had experienced in the trenches of World War I. The development of a specially bred Orc army, and the destruction of the environment to aid this, also have modern resonances; and the effects of the Ring on its users evoke the modern literature of drug addiction as much as any historic quest literature.

 Nevertheless, Tolkien states in the introduction to the books that he disliked allegories and that the story was not one,[21] and it would be irresponsible to dismiss such direct statements on these matters lightly. Tolkien had already completed most of the book, including the ending in its entirety, before the first nuclear bombs were made known to the world at Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945.

 While Tolkien plausibly denied any specific 'nuclear' reference, it is clear that the Ring has broad applicability to the concept of Absolute Power and its effects, and that the plot hinges on the view that anyone who seeks to gain absolute worldly power will inevitably be corrupted by it. Some also say there is also clear evidence that one of the main subtexts of the story — the passing of a mythical "Golden Age" — was influenced not only by Arthurian legend but also by Tolkien's contemporary anxieties about the growing encroachment of urbanisation and industrialisation into the "traditional" English lifestyle and countryside. The concept of the "ring of power" itself is also present in Plato's Republic and in the story of Gyges' ring (a story often compared to the Book of Job). Many, however, believe Tolkien's most likely source was the Norse tale of Sigurd the Volsung. Some locations and characters were inspired by Tolkien's childhood in Sarehole (then a Worcestershire village, now part of Birmingham) and Birmingham.

 Critical response

 Tolkien's work has received mixed reviews since its inception, ranging from terrible to excellent. Recent reviews in various media have been, in a majority, highly positive. On its initial review the Sunday Telegraph felt it was "among the greatest works of imaginative fiction of the twentieth century". The Sunday Times seemed to echo these sentiments when in their review it was stated that "the English-speaking world is divided into those who have read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and those who are going to read them." The New York Herald Tribune also seemed to have an idea of how popular the books would become, writing in its review that they were "destined to outlast our time."[22]

 Not all original reviews, however, were so kind. New York Times reviewer Judith Shulevitz criticized the "pedantry" of Tolkien's literary style, saying that he "formulated a high-minded belief in the importance of his mission as a literary preservationist, which turns out to be death to literature itself." [23] Critic Richard Jenkyns, writing in The New Republic, criticized a perceived lack of psychological depth. Both the characters and the work itself are, according to Jenkyns, "anemic, and lacking in fiber."[24] Even within Tolkien's social group, The Inklings, reviews were mixed. Hugo Dyson was famously recorded as saying, during one of Tolkien's readings to the group, "Oh no! Not another fucking elf!"[25] However, another Inkling, C.S. Lewis, had very different feelings, writing, "here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron. Here is a book which will break your heart."

 Several other authors in the genre, however, seemed to agree more with Dyson than Lewis. Science-fiction author David Brin criticized the books for what he perceived to be their unquestioning devotion to a traditional elitist social structure, their positive depiction of the slaughter of the opposing forces, and their romantic backward-looking worldview.[26] Michael Moorcock, another famous science fiction and fantasy author, is also a fervent detractor of The Lord of the Rings. In his essay, "Epic Pooh," he equates Tolkien's work to Winnie-the-Pooh and criticizes it and similar works for their perceived Merry England point of view.[27] Incidentally, Moorcock met both Tolkien and Lewis in his teens and claims to have liked them personally, even though he does not admire them on artistic grounds.

 More recently, critical analysis has focused on Tolkien's experiences in the First World War; writers such as John Garth in 'Tolkien and the Great War', Janet Brennan Croft and Tom Shippey all look in detail at this aspect and compare the imagery, mental landscape and traumas in Lord of the Rings with those experienced by soldiers in the trenches and the history of the Great War. John Carey, formerly Merton Professor of English Literature at Oxford University, speaking in April 2003 on the BBC "Big Read" programme which voted Lord of the Rings "Britain's best-loved book", said that "Tolkien's writing is essentially a species of war literature; not as direct perhaps as Wilfred Owen, or as solid as some, but very, very interesting as that — the most solid reflection on war experiences written up as fantasy."

 The Lord of the Rings, despite not being published in paperback until the 1960s, sold well in hardback.[28] In 1957 it was awarded the International Fantasy Award. Despite its numerous detractors, the publication of the Ace Books and Ballantine paperbacks helped The Lord of the Rings become immensely popular in the 1960s. The book has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the twentieth century, judged by both sales and reader surveys.[29] In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted by the BBC, The Lord of the Rings was found to be the "Nation's Best-loved Book". Australians voted The Lord of the Rings "My Favourite Book" in a 2004 survey conducted by the Australian ABC.[30] In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, The Lord of the Rings was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium".[31] In 2002 Tolkien was voted the ninety-second "greatest Briton" in a poll conducted by the BBC, and in 2004 he was voted thirty-fifth in the SABC3's Great South Africans, the only person to appear in both lists. His popularity is not limited just to the English-speaking world: in a 2004 poll inspired by the UK’s "Big Read" survey, about 250,000 Germans found The Lord of the Rings to be their favourite work of literature.[32]

 Adaptations

 Main article: Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings

 Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

 The Lord of the Rings has been adapted for film, radio and stage multiple times.

 The book has been adapted for radio three times. In 1955 and 1956, the British Broadcasting Company (BBC) broadcast The Lord of the Rings, a 12-part radio adaptation of the story, of which no recording has survived. A 1979 dramatization of The Lord of the Rings was broadcast in the United States and subsequently issued on tape and CD. In 1981 the BBC broadcast, The Lord of the Rings, a new dramatization in 26 half-hour installments.

 Three film adaptations have been made. The first was J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings (1978), by animator Ralph Bakshi, the first part of what was originally intended to be a two-part adaptation of the story (hence its original title, The Lord of the Rings Part 1). It covers The Fellowship of the Ring and part of The Two Towers. The second, The Return of the King (1980), was an animated television special by Rankin-Bass, who had produced a similar version of The Hobbit (1977). The third was director Peter Jackson's live action The Lord of the Rings film trilogy, produced by New Line Cinema and released in three installments as The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002), and The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003). The live-action film trilogy has done much in particular to bring the book into the public consciousness.[8]

 There have been four stage productions based on the book. Three original full-length stage adaptations of The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), The Two Towers (2002), and The Return of the King (2003) were staged in Cincinnati, Ohio. A stage musical adaptation of The Lord of the Rings (2006) was staged in Toronto, Canada.

 Influences on the fantasy genre

 Following the massive success of The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien considered a sequel entitled The New Shadow, in which the Men of Gondor turn to dark cults and consider an uprising against Aragorn's son, Eldarion. Tolkien decided not to do it, and the incomplete story can be found in The Peoples of Middle-earth. Tolkien returned to finish his mythology, which was published in novel form posthumously by Christopher Tolkien in 1977, and the remaining information of his legendarium was published through Unfinished Tales (1980) and The History of Middle-earth, a twelve volume series published from 1983 to 1996, of which The Peoples of Middle-earth is part.

 Nonetheless, the enormous popularity of Tolkien's epic saga greatly expanded the demand for fantasy fiction. Largely thanks to The Lord of the Rings, the genre flowered throughout the 1960s. Many other books in a broadly similar vein were published (including the Earthsea books of Ursula K. Le Guin, the Thomas Covenant novels of Stephen R. Donaldson), and in the case of the Gormenghast books by Mervyn Peake, and The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison, rediscovered. [ citation needed ]

 It also strongly influenced the role playing game industry which achieved popularity in the 1970s with Dungeons & Dragons. Dungeons & Dragons features many races found in The Lord of the Rings most notably the presence of halflings, Elves, Dwarves, Half-elves, Orcs, and dragons. However, Gary Gygax, lead designer of the game, maintains that he was influenced very little by The Lord of the Rings, stating that he included these elements as a marketing move to draw on the then-popularity of the work.[33] The Lord of the Rings also has influenced Magic: The Gathering. The Lord of the Rings has also influenced the creation of various video games, including The Legend of Zelda,[34] Baldur's Gate, Everquest, The Elder Scrolls, Neverwinter Nights, and the Warcraft series,[35] as well as video games set in Middle-earth itself.

 As in all artistic fields, a great many lesser derivatives of the more prominent works appeared. The term "Tolkienesque" is used in the genre to refer to the oft-used and abused storyline of The Lord of the Rings: a group of adventurers embarking on a quest to save a magical fantasy world from the armies of an evil "dark lord," and is a testament to how much the popularity of these books has increased, since many critics initially decried it as being "Wagner for children" (a reference to the Ring Cycle) — an especially interesting commentary in light of a possible interpretation of the books as a Christian response to Wagner.[36]

 The work has also had an influence upon such science fiction authors as Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke. In fact, Clarke (who compared it to Frank Herbert's Dune[37]) makes a reference to Mount Doom in his work 2061: Odyssey Three.[citation needed] Tolkien also influenced George Lucas' Star Wars films.[38]

 Pop culture references

 Main article: Middle-earth in popular culture

 The Lord of the Rings has had a profound and wide-ranging impact on popular culture, from its publication in the 1950s, but especially throughout the 1960s and 1970s, where young people embraced it as a countercultural saga. Its influence has been vastly extended in the present day, thanks to the Peter Jackson live-action films. Well known examples include "Frodo Lives!" and "Gandalf for President", two phrases popular among American Tolkien fans during the 1960s and 1970s,[39] "Ramble On", "The Battle of Evermore", and "Misty Mountain Hop", three compositions by the British rock band Led Zeppelin that contain explicit references to The Lord of the Rings (with others, such as "Stairway to Heaven", alleged by some to contain such), "Rivendell", a song about the joys of a stay at the Elven haven by the band Rush]] (found on their album Fly by Night, 1975), "Lord of the Rings" and "Gandalf the Wizard" by the German power metal band Blind Guardian (who have also produced a Silmarillion-inspired album, Nightfall in Middle-Earth), nearly the entire discography of Austrian black metal band Summoning (who have also looked to other Tolkien works for inspiration)[40] Rock band Marillion also take their name from Tolkien's Silmarillion. The Lord of the Rings-themed editions of popular board games (e.g., Risk: Lord of the Rings Trilogy Edition, chess and Monopoly),[41] and parodies such as Bored of the Rings, produced for the Harvard Lampoon.

 Further reading

 * Carpenter, Humphrey (2000). J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography, Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-05702-1
 * Ready, William (1981). The Tolkien Relation, New York: Warner Books. ISBN 0-446-30110-8
 * O'Neil, Timothy (1979). The Individuated Hobbit, Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN 039528208X

 See also

 * The History of The Lord of the Rings
 * The Hobbit
 * The Silmarillion
 * Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien
 * Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings
 * Middle-earth in popular culture
 * Middle-earth in video games
 * Themes in The Lord of the Rings
 * Chronology of the Lord of the Rings

 Books

 1. The Fellowship of the Ring
 2. The Two Towers
 3. The Return of the King

 Films

 * The Hobbit (1977 film)
 * The Lord of the Rings (1978 film)
 * The Return of the King (1980 film)
 * The Fellowship of the Ring (movie)
 * The Two Towers (movie)
 * The Return of the King (movie)

 External links

 Cover art
 * Adāzing - Lord of the Rings Book Cover Designs (1954 to 2002)

 Translations

 Foreign Language Translated name 
 Afrikaans Die Here van die Ringe 
 Albanian Kryezoti i Unazave 
 Alemannic German Der Herr der Ringe 
 Amharic ቀለበቶች ጌታ 
 Armenian Մատանիների տիրակալը 
 Arabic سيد الخواتم 
 Assamese আঙঠিৰ প্ৰভু 
 Awadhi द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स 
 Azerbaijani Üzüklərin Hökmdarı 
 Basque Eraztunen Jauna 
 Belarusian Cyrillic Уладар Пярсцёнкаў 
 Bengali দ্য লর্ড অব দ্য রিংস 
 Bosnian Gospodar prstenova 
 Breton Aotrou ar Gwalennoù 
 Bulgarian Cyrillic Властелинът на пръстените 
 Burmese လက်စွပ်များ၏ အရှင်သခင် 
 Cambodian ព្រះអម្ចាស់នៃកងដែល 
 Cantonese 魔戒 
 Catalan El Senyor dels anells 
 Cebuano Ang Ginoo sa mga Singsing 
 Chinese (Min Nan) Chhiú-chí Ông 
 Chinese (Simplified) 魔戒 
 Chinese (Wu) 指环王 
 Colognian Dr Herr dr Ringe 
 Cornish An Arlodh a'n Bysowyer 
 Croatian Gospodar Prstenova 
 Czech Pán prstenů 
 Danish Ringenes Herre 
 Dutch In de Ban van de Ring 
 Esperanto La Sinjoro de la Ringoj 
 Estonian Sõrmuste Isand 
 Faroese Ringanna Harri 
 Filipino Ang Panginoon ng Singsing 
 Finnish Taru Sormusten Herrasta 
 French Le Seigneur des Anneaux 
 Frisian A Her faan A Ringer (Northern) Master fan alle Ringen (Western)
 Galician O Señor dos Aneis 
 Georgian ბეჭდების მბრძანებელი 
 German Der Herr der Ringe 
 Greek Ο άρχοντας των δαχτυλιδιών 
 Hausa Ubangijin Zobba 
 Hebrew שר הטבעות (טרילוגיית ספרים) 
 Hindi द लार्ड ऑफ द रिंग्स 
 Hungarian A gyűrűk ura 
 Icelandic Hringadróttinssaga 
 Indonesian Raja Segala Cincin 
 Italian Il Signore degli Anelli 
 Irish Gaelic An Tiarna na bhFáinní 
 Japanese 指輪物語 
 Javanese Pangeran saka cincin 
 Kannada ದಿ ಲಾರ್ಡ್ ಆಫ್ ದಿ ರಿಂಗ್ಸ್ 
 Kazakh Сақиналар әміршісі (Cyrillic) Saqïnalar ämirşisi (Latin) 
 Korean 반지의 제왕 
 Kurdish شای ئەنگوستیلەکان (Sorani) Begê Gustîlan (Kurmanji) 
 Kyrgyz Cyrillic Теңир шакеги 
 Laotian ພຣະຜູ້ເປັນເຈົ້າຂອງແຫວນໄດ້ 
 Latin Dominus Anulorum 
 Latvian Gredzenu pavēlnieks 
 Lithuanian Žiedu Valdovas 
 Lombard El Scior di Anei 
 Luxembourgish Den Här vun de Réng 
 Macedonian Cyrillic Господарот на Прстените 
 Maithili द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स 
 Malayalam ദ ലോർഡ് ഓഫ് ദ റിങ്സ് 
 Malaysian Raja Segala Cincin 
 Maltese Il-Ħakkiem ta 'l-anelli 
 Maori Te Ariki o nga Mowhiti 
 Marathi द लॉर्ड ऑफ द रिंग्स 
 Mongolian Cyrillic Бөгжний эзэн 
 Montenegrin Gospodar Prstenova 
 Nepalese द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स 
 Ringenes Herre (Bokmål) 
 Norwegian  
 Ringdrotten (Nynorsk) 
  
 Occitan Lo Senhor dels Anèls 
 Old English Se Hlāford þāra Hringa 
 Pashto د کړۍ_ګانې رب 
 Persian ارباب حلقه ها 
 Polish Władca Pierścieni 
 O Senhor dos Anéis (Brazil) 
 Portuguese  
 A Irmandade do Anel (Portugal) 
  
 Punjabi لارڈ آف دا رنگز (Western Punjabi) ਦ ਲਾਰਡ ਆਫ਼ ਦ ਰਿੰਗਸ 
 Quechua Siwikunap Apun 
 Querétaro Otomi Ar 'ño̲ho̲ ya anillos 
 Romanian Stăpânul Inelelor 
 Russian Властелин колец 
 Sardinian Su Sennore de sos Aneddos 
 Scottish Gaelic Tha Tighearna nam Fàinnean 
 Serbian Господар прстенова (Cyrillic) Gospodar Prstenova (Latin) 
 Sinhalese මුදුවේ අධිපති 
 Slovak Pán Prsteňov 
 Slovenian Gospodar Prstanov 
 Spanish El Señor de los Anillos 
 Sundanese Gusti tina Cingcin 
 Swahili Bwana wa Mapete 
 Swedish (old) Härskarringen 
  
 Swedish (new) Ringarnas Herre 
  
 Tajik Cyrillic Парвардигори зиреҳҳои 
 Tatar Йөзекләр Хуҗасы 
 Telugu ఆ లార్డ్ ఆఫ్ ది రింగ్స్ 
 Tamil த லோட் ஒவ் த ரிங்ஸ் 
 Thai เดอะลอร์ดออฟเดอะริงส์ 
 Turkish Yüzüklerin Efendisi 
 Turkmen Ýüzükleriň Padşasy 
 Ukrainian Cyrillic Володар перснів 
 Urdu دی لارڈ آف دی رنگز 
 Uzbek Узуклар Ҳукмдори (Cyrillic) Uzuklar Hukmdori (Latin) 
 Vietnamese Chúa tể những chiếc nhẫn 
 Welsh Yr Arglwydd y cylchoedd 
 Yiddish דער האר פון די פינגערלעך 
 
 The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
 
 Books: The Fellowship of the Ring | The Two Towers | The Return of the King 
 Movie trilogy: The Fellowship of the Ring | The Two Towers | The Return of the King 
 Television: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power 
 Animated movies: J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings | The Return of the King (TV special) | The War of the Rohirrim
 Miscellaneous: The History of The Lord of the Rings | Lord of the Rings radio series 
 
 J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle-earth Legendarium
 Published works The Hobbit (1937) • The Lord of the Rings (The Fellowship of the Ring [1954] • The Two Towers [1954] • The Return of the King [1955]) • The Adventures of Tom Bombadil [1962] • The Road Goes Ever On [1967]    
 Bilbo's Last Song [1974] • The Silmarillion [1977] • Unfinished Tales [1980]      
 The History of Middle-earth (The Book of Lost Tales Part One [1983] • The Book of Lost Tales Part Two [1984] • The Lays of Beleriand [1985] • The Shaping of Middle-earth [1986] • The Lost Road and Other Writings [1987] • The Return of the Shadow [1988] • The Treason of Isengard [1989] • The War of the Ring [1990] • Sauron Defeated [1992] • Morgoth's Ring [1993] • The War of the Jewels [1994] • The Peoples of Middle-earth [1996] • Index [2006])
 Great Tales (The Children of Húrin [2007] • Beren and Lúthien [2017] • The Fall of Gondolin (book) [2018])      
 Posthumous publications The Nature of Middle-earth [2021]       
        
 Articles about Middle-earth by...       
 Category • Name • Writings • Characters • Peoples • Rivers • Realms • Ages      
        
 
 The Lord of the Rings Wiki Featured articles    
 People: Faramir · Sauron · Witch-king of Angmar · Gollum · Elrond · Frodo Baggins · Samwise Gamgee · Meriadoc Brandybuck · Peregrin Took · Gandalf · Aragorn II Elessar · Legolas · Gimli · Boromir · Galadriel · Elves · Hobbits 
 Locations: Middle-earth · Gondor · Mordor · Rohan    
 Other: Mithril · The Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game · The Fellowship of the Ring (novel) · Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien · The Lord of the Rings · The Lord of the Rings (1978 film) · Ainulindalë · Tolkien vs. Jackson · Tengwar · Quenya
 

 References

 Text

 * Tolkien, J.R.R. (1954 [2005]). The Lord of the Rings. Houghton Mifflin.

 paperback: ISBN 0-618-64015-0

 * Tolkien, J.R.R. (1937 [2002]). The Hobbit. Houghton Mifflin.

 paperback: ISBN 0-618-26030-7

 * Tolkien, J.R.R. (1977 [2004]). The Silmarillion. Houghton Mifflin.

 paperback: ISBN 0-618-39111-8

 1. ↑ World War I and World War II . Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 2. ↑ Tolkien FAQ: How many languages have The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings been translated into?
 3. ↑ 3.0 3.1 3.2 3.3 3.4 3.5 3.6 Tolkien, J.R.R. (1981). The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien. Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-05699-8.
 4. ↑ Exploring the Diverse Lands of Middle-earth . Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 5. ↑ The Return of the King: Summaries and Commentaries: Appendices . Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 6. ↑ J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch . Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 7. ↑ Gilliver, Peter (2006). The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford University Press. ISBN 0-19-861069-6.
 8. ↑ 8.0 8.1 Gilsdorf, Ethan (November 16, 2003 ). Lord of the Gold Ring . The Boston Globe . Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 9. ↑ 9.0 9.1 9.2 9.3 9.4 9.5 9.6 9.7 9.8 The Lord of the Rings: Genesis . Archived from the original on 2003-08-17. Retrieved on 2006-06-14.
 10. ↑ Tom Shippey , The Road to Middle-earth Revised and Expanded Edition
 11. ↑ Tom Shippey , J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century
 12. ↑ Tom Shippey , J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century , Ch. 2, pg. 54
 13. ↑ The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien , Letter 131 , pg. 145
 14. ↑ Socher, Abe (April 19, 2005 ). Grading Blues . Chronicle Careers . Retrieved on 2006-04-22.
 15. ↑ Tolkien, J.R.R. (1990). The War of the Ring: The History of The Lord of the Rings, Part Three. Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-08359-6.
 16. ↑ How many languages have The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings been translated into? . Retrieved on 3 June 2006.
 17. ↑ Influences of Lord of the Ring . Retrieved on 16 April 2006.
 18. ↑ Steven D. Greydanus. Faith and Fantasy: Tolkien the Catholic, The Lord of the Rings, and Peter Jackson’s Film Trilogy . Retrieved on 4 June 2006.
 19. ↑ Cultural and Linguistic Conservation . Retrieved on 16 April 2006.
 20. ↑ The LOTR Props Exhibition: Steve la Hood Speaks . Retrieved on 14 June 2006.
 21. ↑ Tolkien, J.R.R. (1991). The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollins. ISBN 0-261-10238-9.
 22. ↑ From the Critics . Retrieved on May 30, 2006.
 23. ↑ Hobbits in Hollywood . Retrieved on May 13, 2006.
 24. ↑ Richard Jenkyns. "Bored of the Rings." The New Republic. January 28, 2002. [1]
 25. ↑ Wilson, A.N.. " Tolkien was not a writer ", telegraph.co.uk , Telegraph Group Limited, 2001-11-24 . Retrieved on 2013-11-30 .
 26. ↑ We Hobbits are a Merry Folk: an incautious and heretical re-appraisal of J.R.R. Tolkien . Retrieved on 9 January 2006.
 27. ↑ Moorcock, Michael. Epic Pooh . Retrieved on 27 January 2006.
 28. ↑ J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch . Retrieved on June 14, 2006.
 29. ↑ Seiler, Andy (December 16, 2003 ). 'Rings' comes full circle . USA Today . Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 30. ↑ Cooper, Callista (December 5, 2005 ). Epic trilogy tops favourite film poll . ABC News Online . Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 31. ↑ O'Hehir, Andrew (June 4, 2001 ). The book of the century . Salon.com . Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 32. ↑ Diver, Krysia (October 5, 2004 ). A lord for Germany . The Sydney Morning Herald . Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 33. ↑ Gary Gygax - Creator of Dungeons & Dragons . Retrieved on 2006-05-28.
 34. ↑ (1996) Club Nintendo (Germany). Nintendo of Europe. “Takashi Tezuka, a great lover of fantasy novels such as Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, wrote the script for the first two games in the Zelda series.”
 35. ↑ Douglass, Perry (May 17, 2006 ). The Influence of Literature and Myth in Videogames . IGN . Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
 36. ↑ The Complete Spengler . Asian Times Online (May 29, 2006 ). Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
 37. ↑ http://www.iblist.com/book.php?id=130
 38. ↑ Star Wars Origins - The Lord of the Rings . Star Wars Origins . Retrieved on 2006-09-19.
 39. ↑ Carpenter, Humphrey (2000). J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography. Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-05702-1.
 40. ↑ White Dwarf Magazine , #304
 41. ↑ Drake, Matt (June 29, 2005 ). Review of Lord of the Rings . RPGnet . Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
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Cover of the 50th Anniversary One-Volume Edition 	 	 
 	  	 	 	 	  	 	 	 	Cover of the  The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power  tie-in One-Volume Edition 	 	 
  The Lord of the Rings  is an epic high fantasy novel written by J.R.R. Tolkien, which was later fitted as a trilogy. The story began as a sequel to Tolkien's earlier fantasy book  The Hobbit , and soon developed into a much larger story. At publication, it was divided into  The Fellowship of the Ring ,  The Two Towers , and  The Return of the King.
 Written in stages between 1937 and 1949, with much of it during World War II [1] , it was originally published in three volumes in 1954 and 1955. It has since been reprinted numerous times and translated into at least 38 different languages [2] , becoming one of the most popular works of twentieth-century literature.
 The action in The Lord of the Rings is set in what the author conceived to be the lands of the real Earth, inhabited by humanity but placed in a fictional past, before familiar history but after the fall of his version of Atlantis, Númenor. [3]  Tolkien gave this setting a modern English name, Middle-earth, a rendering of the Old English  Middangeard . [4] 
Main conflict
The story concerns peoples such as Hobbits, Elves, Men, Dwarves, Wizards, and Orcs (called goblins in The Hobbit), and centers on the Ring of Power made by the Dark Lord Sauron. Starting from quiet beginnings in the Shire, the story ranges across Middle-earth and follows the courses of the War of the Ring. The main story is followed by six appendices that provide a wealth of historical and linguistic background material, [5]  as well as an index listing every character, place, song, and sword.
 Along with Tolkien's other writings, The Lord of the Rings has been subjected to extensive analysis of its literary themes and origins. Although a major work in itself, the story is merely the last movement of a larger mythological cycle, or legendarium, that Tolkien had worked on for many years since 1917. [6]  Influences on this earlier work, and on the story of The Lord of the Rings, include philology, mythology and religion, as well as earlier fantasy works and Tolkien's experiences in World War I. The Lord of the Rings in its turn is considered to have had a great impact on modern fantasy, and the impact of Tolkien's works is such that the use of the words "Tolkienian" and "Tolkienesque" have been recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary. [7] 
 The immense and enduring popularity of The Lord of the Rings has led to numerous references in popular culture, the founding of many societies by fans of Tolkien's works, and a large number of books about Tolkien and his works being published. The Lord of the Rings has inspired (and continues to inspire) short stories, video games, artworks and musical works (see Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien). Numerous adaptations of Tolkien's works have been made for a wide range of media. Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings  in particular have been made for the radio, for the theatre, and for film. The 2001–2003 release of  The Lord of the Rings film trilogy saw a surge of interest in The Lord of the Rings and Tolkien's other works. [8] 
Backstory
The back story begins thousands of years before the action in the book, with the rise of the eponymous Lord of the Rings, the Dark Lord Sauron, a malevolent reincarnated deity who possessed great supernatural powers and who later became the ruler of the dreaded realm of Mordor. At the end of the First Age of Middle-earth, Sauron survived the catastrophic defeat and chaining of his lord, the ultimate Dark Lord, Morgoth (who was formerly counted as one of the Valar, the angelic Powers of the world). During the Second Age, Sauron schemed to gain dominion over Middle-earth. In the disguise as "Annatar" or Lord of Gifts, he aided Celebrimbor and other Elven-smiths of Eregion in the forging of magical Rings of Power which conferred various powers and effects on their wearers. The most important of these were the Nine, the Seven and the Three (which he did not touch or know of the three.) called the Rings of Power or Great Rings.
 However, he then secretly forged a Great Ring of his own, the One Ring, by which he planned to enslave the wearers of the other Rings of Power. This plan failed when the Elves became aware of him and took off their Rings. Sauron then launched a war during which he captured sixteen and distributed them to lords and kings of Dwarves and Men; these Rings were known as the Seven and Nine respectively. The Dwarf-lords proved too tough to be enslaved, although their natural desire for wealth, especially gold, increased; this brought more conflict between them and other races, and fed a dangerous greed. The Men who received the Nine rings were slowly corrupted over time and eventually became the  Nazgûl , Sauron's most feared servants. The Three Rings Sauron failed to capture, and remained in the possession of the Elves (who forged these independently). The war ended as Men of the island-kingdom of Númenor helped the besieged Elves, and Sauron's forces were practically destroyed. At this time he still held most of Middle-earth, excluding the coasts, Imladris (Rivendell) and the Gulf of Lune.
 	  	 	 	 	  	 	 	 	A map of Númenor (called Andor by the Elves) 	 	 
Over 1500 years later, word reached the King of Númenor, Ar-Pharazôn, that Sauron had claimed the title "King of Men". This provoked Ar-Pharazôn and gave him an opportunity to display the glory and strength of Númenor. He arrived in Middle-earth with such overwhelming force that Sauron's armies fled at the sight of the Númenóreans. Abandoned by his minions, Sauron surrendered to the Númenóreans, and was taken to Númenor as a "prisoner". Sauron then started to poison the minds of the Númenóreans against the Valar. Thus, Sauron set into motion events that brought about Númenor's destruction. He did this by corrupting the King's mind, telling him that the immortality of the Elves was his to take if he set foot upon the lands of Aman, the Blessed Realm, where Valinor, the realm of the Valar, was located. Fearing death, Ar-Pharazôn led an invasion of Aman and Valinor with the greatest host seen since the end of the First Age. However, upon reaching Aman, he and his army were buried by a landslide, and there they would remain until the Final Battle in Tolkien's eschatology. Manwë, the King of Arda, called upon Eru Ilúvatar (God), who opened a great chasm in the sea, destroying Númenor, and removed the Undying Lands from the mortal world. The destruction of Númenor destroyed Sauron's physical body and his ability to take a fair and handsome shape, but his spirit returned to Mordor and assumed a new form: black, "burning hot", and terrible.
 Over 100 years later, he launched an attack against the Númenórean exiles (The Faithful, who did not join Ar-Pharazôn's expedition), who managed to escape to Middle-earth. However, the exiles (led by Elendil and his sons Isildur and Anárion) had time to prepare, and, after forming the Last Alliance of Elves and Men with the Elven-king Gil-galad, they marched against Mordor, defeated Sauron on the plain of Dagorlad, and besieged Barad-dûr, at which time Anárion was slain. After seven years of siege, Sauron himself was ultimately forced to engage in single combat with the leaders. Gil-galad and Elendil perished in the struggle, and Elendil's sword, Narsil, broke beneath him. However, Sauron's body was also overcome and slain, [3]  and Isildur cut the One Ring from Sauron's hand with the hilt-shard of Narsil, and at this Sauron's spirit fled and he did not reappear for a millenium. Isildur was advised to destroy the One Ring by the only way it could be — by casting it into the volcanic Mount Doom where it was forged — but he refused, attracted to its beauty and kept it as compensation for the deaths of his father and brother (weregild).
 So began the Third Age of the Sun. Two years later, while journeying to Rivendell, Isildur and his soldiers were ambushed by a band of Orcs at the Disaster of the Gladden Fields. While the latter were almost all killed, Isildur escaped by putting on the Ring — which made mortal wearers invisible. However, the Ring slipped from his finger while he was swimming in the great River Anduin; he was killed by Orc-arrows and the Ring was lost for two millennia. It was then found by chance by a Stoor named Déagol. His relative and friend [3]  Sméagol strangled him for the Ring and was banished from his home by his maternal grandmother. He fled to the Misty Mountains where he slowly withered and became a disgusting, slimy creature called Gollum.
 In  The Hobbit, set 60 years before the events in The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien relates the story of the seemingly accidental finding of the Ring by another hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, who takes it to his home, Bag End. Story-externally, the tale related in The Hobbit was written before The Lord of the Rings, and it was only later that the author developed Bilbo's magic ring into the "One Ring." Neither Bilbo nor the wizard, Gandalf, are aware at this point that Bilbo's magic ring is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron.
Synopsis
 	  	 	 	 	  	 	 	 	 Middle-earth during the Third Age  	 	 
 The Lord of the Rings takes up the story about 60 years after the end of The Hobbit. The story begins in the first volume,  The Fellowship of the Ring, when Frodo Baggins, Bilbo's adoptive heir, came into possession of Bilbo's magic ring. Bilbo's old friend, Gandalf the Grey, who got Bilbo involved in the adventures in The Hobbit that led to the discovery of the Ring, discovered that it was in fact the One Ring, the instrument of Sauron's power and the object for which the Dark Lord has been searching for most of the Third Age, and which corrupted others with desire for it and the power it held.
 Sauron sent the sinister Nazgûl, in the guise of riders in black, to the Shire, Frodo's native land, in search of the Ring. Frodo escaped, with the help of his loyal gardener Samwise Gamgee and three close friends, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Fredegar Bolger. While Fredegar acted as decoy for the Ringwraiths, Frodo and the others set off to take the Ring to the Elven haven of Rivendell. They were aided by the enigmatic Tom Bombadil, who saved them from Old Man Willow and took them in for a few days of feasting, rest, and counsel. At the town of Bree, Frodo's party was joined by a man called "Strider", who was revealed, in a letter left by Gandalf at the local inn for Frodo, to be Aragorn, the heir to the thrones of Gondor and Arnor, two great realms founded by the Númenórean exiles. Aragorn led the hobbits to Rivendell on Gandalf's request. However, Frodo was gravely wounded by the leader of the Ringwraiths, though he managed to recover under the care of lord Elrond, the Half-elf.
 In Rivendell, the hobbits also learned that Sauron's forces could only be resisted if Aragorn took up his inheritance and fulfilled an ancient prophecy by wielding the sword Andúril, which had been forged anew from the shards of Narsil, the sword that cut the Ring from Sauron's finger in the Second Age. The treachery of Saruman, formerly head of the White Council and now in league with Sauron is also revealed. A high council, attended by representatives of the major races of Middle-earth; Elves, Dwarves, and Men, and presided over by Elrond, decide that the only course of action that can save Middle-earth is to destroy the Ring by taking it to Mordor and casting it into Mount Doom, where it was forged.
 Frodo volunteered for the task, and a "Fellowship of the Ring" was formed to aid him — consisting of Frodo, his three Hobbit companions, Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir of Gondor, Gimli the Dwarf, and Legolas the Elf. Their journey took them through the Mines of Moria, where they began to be followed by the creature Gollum, whom Bilbo had met in the Goblin-caves of the Misty Mountains years before. (The full tale of their meeting is told in The Hobbit.) Gollum long possessed the Ring before it passed to Bilbo. Gandalf explained that Gollum belonged to a people "of hobbit-kind" before he came upon the Ring, which corrupted him. A slave to the Ring's evil power, Gollum desperately sought to regain his "Precious." As they proceeded through the Mines, Pippin unintentionally betrayed their presence and the party was attacked by creatures of Sauron. Gandalf battled an ancient demon, a Balrog, and fell into a deep chasm, apparently to his death. Escaping from Moria, the Fellowship, now led by Aragorn, go to the Elven realm of Lothlórien. Here, the Lady Galadriel showed Frodo and Sam visions of the past, present, and future. Frodo also saw the Eye of Sauron, a metaphysical expression of Sauron himself, and Galadriel was tempted by the Ring. By the end of the first volume, after the Fellowship has travelled along the great River Anduin, Frodo decided to continue the trek to Mordor on his own, largely due to the Ring's growing influence on Boromir; however, the faithful Sam insisted on going with him.
 In the second volume,  The Two Towers, a parallel story, told in the first book of the volume, details the exploits of the remaining members of the Fellowship who aid the country of Rohan in its war against the emerging evil of Saruman, leader of the Order of Wizards, who wanted the Ring for himself. At the start of the first book, the Fellowship was further scattered; Merry and Pippin were captured by Sauron and Saruman's Orcs, Boromir was mortally wounded defending them, and Aragorn and the others went off in pursuit of the Hobbits captors. The three meet Gandalf, who has returned to Middle-earth as "Gandalf the White": they found out that he slew the Balrog of Moria, and although the battle also proved fatal to Gandalf, he was then sent back and "reborn" as a more imposing figure. At the end of the first book, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli help defeat Saruman's armies at the Battle of the Hornburg while Saruman himself was cornered by the tree-like Ents and Huorns, accompanied by Merry and Pippin, who escaped from captivity, and the two groups are reunited.
 The second book of the volume tells of Frodo and Sam's exploits on the way to Mount Doom. They managed to capture and "tame" Gollum, who then showed them a way to enter Mordor secretly (as opposed to the Black Gate), albeit through the dreaded realm of Minas Morgul. At the end of the volume, Gollum betrayed Frodo to the great spider, Shelob, and though he survived, he was captured by Orcs. Meanwhile, Sauron launched an all-out military assault upon Middle-earth, with the Witch-king (leader of the Ringwraiths) leading a fell host from Minas Morgul into battle against Gondor, in the War of the Ring.
 In the third volume,  The Return of the King, the further adventures of Gandalf, Aragorn and company are related in the first book of the volume, while Frodo and Sam's are related in the second, as with The Two Towers. As told in the first book, the Fellowship assisted in the final battles against the armies of Sauron, including the siege of the city of Minas Tirith in Gondor and the climactic life-or-death battle before the Black Gate of Mordor, where the alliance of Gondor and Rohan fought desperately against Sauron's armies in order to distract him from the Ring, hoping to gain time for Frodo to destroy it.
 In the second book, Sam rescued Frodo from captivity. After much struggle, they finally reached Mount Doom itself, tailed by Gollum. However, the temptation of the Ring proved too great for Frodo and he claimed it for himself. However, Gollum struggled with him and managed to bite the Ring off. Crazed with triumph, Gollum slipped into the fires of the mountain, and the Ring was destroyed.
 Finally, Sauron was defeated, and Aragorn was crowned king. However, all was not over, for Saruman managed to escape and scour the Shire before being overthrown. At the end, Frodo remained wounded in body and spirit and went west accompanied by Bilbo over the Sea to Valinor, where he could find peace.
 According to Tolkien's timeline, the events depicted in the story occurred between Bilbo's announcement of his September 22, 3001 birthday party, and Sam's return to Bag End on October 6, 3021. Most of the events portrayed in the story occur in TA 3018 and TA 3019, with Frodo heading out from Bag End on September 23 3018, and the destruction of the Ring six months later on March 25, 3019.
Characters
  For character information see: List of characters   
Good (excluding most minor characters)
  Aragorn 
 Gimli 
 Legolas 
 Gandalf 
 Boromir 
 Frodo Baggins 
 Samwise Gamgee 
 Peregrin Took 
 Meriadoc Brandybuck 
 Bilbo Baggins 
 Elrond 
 Glorfindel 
 Arwen 
 Elladan 
 Elrohir 
 Thranduil 
 Haldir 
 Celeborn 
 Galadriel 
 Gwaihir 
 Balin (mentioned)
 Glóin 
 Dáin II Ironfoot (mentioned)
 Faramir 
 Denethor II 
 Beregond 
 Treebeard 
 Théoden 
 Éomer 
 Éowyn 
 Háma 
 Gamling 
 Théodred  
Evil
  Sauron 
 Witch-king of Angmar 
 Mouth of Sauron 
 Nazgûl 
 Gorbag 
 Shagrat 
 Saruman 
 Gríma Wormtongue 
 Uglúk 
 Gollum 
 Shelob 
 Durin's Bane, a Balrog  
Background
Writing
 
 The Lord of the Rings
 
 Volume I - Volume II - Volume III
   
 The Lord of the Rings in conception was meant as a sequel  The Hobbit , his tale for children published in 1937. [9]  The popularity of The Hobbit led to demands from his publishers for more stories about Hobbits and goblins, and so that same year Tolkien began writing what would become The Lord of the Rings - not to be finished until 12 years later in 1949, not be fully published until 1955, by which time Tolkien would be 63 years old.
 Tolkien did not originally intend to write a sequel to The Hobbit, and instead wrote several other children's tales such as  Roverandom. As his main work, Tolkien began to outline the history of Arda, telling tales of the Silmarils, and many other stories forming the vast background to The Lord of the Rings and the Third Age. Tolkien died before he could complete and put together all of this work cohesively, but his son Christopher Tolkien edited his father's work, filled in gaps, and published it in 1977 as  The Silmarillion . [10]  Some Tolkien biographers regard The Silmarillion as the true "work of his heart" [11] , as it provides the historical and linguistic context for the more popular work and for his constructed languages, and had occupied most of Tolkien's adult life. As a result The Lord of the Rings ended up as the last movement of Tolkien's legendarium and, to him, the "much larger, and I hope also in proportion the best, of the entire cycle". [3] 
 Persuaded by his publishers, he started 'a new Hobbit' in the third week of December 1937. [12]  After several false starts, the story of the One Ring soon emerged, and the book mutated from being a sequel to The Hobbit, to being, in theme, more a sequel to the unpublished Silmarillion. The idea of the first chapter ( A Long-expected Party ) arrived fully-formed, although the reasons behind Bilbo's disappearance, the significance of the Ring, and the title The Lord of the Rings did not arrive until the spring of 1938. [9]  Originally, he planned to write another story in which Bilbo had used up all his treasure and was looking for another adventure to gain more; however, he remembered the ring and its powers and decided to write about it instead. [9]  He began with Bilbo as the main character but decided that the story was too serious to use the fun-loving hobbit and so Tolkien looked to use a member of Bilbo's family. [9]  He thought about using Bilbo's son, but this generated some difficult questions, such as the whereabouts of his wife and whether he would let his son go into danger. Thus he looked for an alternate character to carry the ring. In Greek legend, it was a hero's nephew that gained the item of power, and so the hobbit Frodo came into existence. [9] 
 "As the high Legends of the beginning are supposed to look at things through Elvish minds, so the middle tale of the Hobbit takes a virtually human point of view - and the last tale [The Lord of the Rings] blends them."
—Tolkien on The Silmarillion, The Hobbit, and The Lord of the Rings respectively [13]    
Writing was slow due to Tolkien's perfectionism and a wartime shortage of paper. It was frequently interrupted by his obligations as an examiner, and other academic duties.
 The first sentence of  The Hobbit  was in fact written on a blank page which a student had left on an exam paper which Tolkien was marking — "In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit." [14]  He seems to have abandoned The Lord of the Rings during most of 1943 and only restarted it in April 1944. [9]  This effort was written as a serial for Christopher Tolkien and C.S. Lewis — the former would be sent copies of chapters as they were written while he was serving in Africa in the Royal Air Force. He made another push in 1946, and showed a copy of the manuscript to his publishers in 1947. [9]  The story was effectively finished the next year, but Tolkien did not finish revising earlier parts of the work until 1949. [9] 
 A dispute with his publishers, Allen &amp; Unwin, led to the book being offered to HarperCollins in 1950. He intended The Silmarillion (itself largely unrevised at this point) to be published along with The Lord of the Rings, but A&amp;U were unwilling to do this. After his contact at Collins, Milton Waldman, expressed the belief that The Lord of the Rings itself "urgently needed cutting", he eventually demanded that they publish the book in 1952. They did not do so, and so Tolkien wrote to Allen and Unwin, saying "I would gladly consider the publication of any part of the stuff." [9] 
Publication
For publication, due largely to post-war paper shortages, but also to keep the price of the first volume down, the book was divided into three volumes:  The Fellowship of the Ring : Books I and II,  The Two Towers : Books III and IV, and  The Return of the King : Books V and VI plus 6 appendices. Delays in producing appendices, maps and especially indices led to these being published later than originally hoped — on 21 July 1954, 11 November 1954 and 20 October 1955 respectively in the United Kingdom, slightly later in the United States. The Return of the King was especially delayed. Tolkien, moreover, did not especially like the title The Return of the King, believing it gave away too much of the storyline. He had originally suggested  War of the Ring, which was dismissed by his publishers. [15] 
 	  	 	 	 	  	 	 	 	Dust jacket of the 1968 UK edition 	 	 
The books were published under a 'profit-sharing' arrangement, whereby Tolkien would not receive an advance or royalties until the books had broken even, after which he would take a large share of the profits. An index to the entire 3-volume set at the end of third volume was promised in the first volume. However, this proved impractical to compile in a reasonable timescale. Later, in 1966, four indices, not compiled by Tolkien, were added to The Return of the King. Because the three-volume binding was so widely distributed, the work is often referred to as the Lord of the Rings "trilogy." In a letter to W. H. Auden, Tolkien himself made use of the term "trilogy" for the work ( The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien , #163) though he did at other times consider this incorrect, as it was written and conceived as a single book (Letters, #149). It is also often called a novel; however, Tolkien also objected to this term as he viewed it as a romance (Letters, #329; "romance" in this sense refers to a heroic tale).
 A 1999 (Millennium Edition) British (ISBN 0-261-10387-3) 7-volume box set followed the six-book division authored by Tolkien, with the Appendices from the end of The Return of the King bound as a separate volume. The letters of Tolkien appeared on the spines of the boxed set which included a CD. To coincide with the film release, a new version of this popular edition was released featuring images from the films, such as:
 I - Frodo climbing the steps to Bag End
II - Aragorn and Arwen in Rivendell
III - Gandalf in Moria
IV - A swan boat from Lothlórien
V - A Black Rider from the 'Flight to the Ford' sequence
VI - The tower of Cirith Ungol (although this image featured in many of the promotional books (e.g. the 'FotR Photo Guide') from the first film, it did not feature in the films until Return of the King)
App. - Frodo's hand holding the One Ring 
This new imprint (ISBN 0-00-763555-9) also omitted the CD.
The individual names for books in this series were decided posthumously, based on a combination of suggestions Tolkien had made during his lifetime and the titles of the existing volumes — viz:
 T Book I: The Return of the Shadow 
O Book II: The Fellowship of the Ring 
L Book III: The Treason of Isengard 
K Book IV: The Journey to Mordor 
I Book V: The War of the Ring 
E Book VI: The Return of the King 
N Appendices 
The name of the complete work is often abbreviated to 'LotR', 'LOTR', or simply 'LR' (Tolkien himself used L.R.), and the three volumes as FR, FOTR, or FotR (The Fellowship of the Ring), TT or TTT (The Two Towers), and RK, ROTK, or RotK (The Return of the King).
 Note that the titles  The Return of the Shadow,  The Treason of Isengard  and  The War of the Ring  were used by Christopher Tolkien in  The History of The Lord of the Rings.
Publication history
The three parts were first published by Allen &amp; Unwin in 1954–1955, several months apart. They have since been reissued many times by multiple publishers, as one, three, six or seven volume sets. The two most common current printings are ISBN 0-618-34399-7 (one-volume) and ISBN 0-618-34624-4 (three volume set). In the early 1960s, Donald A. Wollheim, science fiction editor of the paperback publisher Ace Books, realized that The Lord of the Rings was not protected in the United States under American copyright law because the US hardcover edition had been bound from pages printed in the United Kingdom, with the original intention being for them to be printed in the British edition. Ace Books proceeded to publish an edition, unauthorized by Tolkien and without royalties to him. Tolkien took issue with this and quickly notified his fans of this objection. Grass-roots pressure from these fans became so great that Ace books withdrew their edition and made a nominal payment to Tolkien, well below what he might have been due in an appropriate publication. However, this poor beginning was overshadowed when an authorized edition followed from Ballantine Books to tremendous commercial success. By the mid-1960s the books, due to their wide exposure on the American public stage, had become a true cultural phenomenon. Also at this time Tolkien undertook various textual revisions to produce a version of the book that would have a valid US copyright. This would later become known as the Second Edition of The Lord of the Rings.
 The books have been translated, with various degrees of success, into dozens of other languages. [16]  Tolkien, an expert in philology, examined many of these translations, and had comments on each that reflect both the translation process and his work. To aid translators, Tolkien wrote his Guide to the Names in The Lord of the Rings. Because The Lord of the Rings is said to be a translation of the  Red Book of Westmarch, translators have an unusual degree of freedom when translating The Lord of the Rings. This allows for such translations as Elf becoming Elb in German — Elb does not carry the connotations of mischief that its English counterpart does and therefore is more true to the work that Tolkien created. In contrast to the usual modern practice, names intended to have a particular meaning in the English version are translated to provide a similar meaning in the target language: in German, for example, the name "Baggins" becomes "Beutlin," containing the word Beutel meaning "bag."
 In 1990 Recorded Books published an unabridged audio version of the books, and hired British actor Rob Inglis, who had starred in a one-man production of The Hobbit, to read. Inglis performs the books verbatim, using distinct voices for each character, and sings all of the songs. Tolkien had written music for some of the songs in the book. For the rest, Inglis, along with director Claudia Howard wrote additional music. The current ISBN is 1402516274.
Influences
 The Lord of the Rings began as a personal exploration by Tolkien of his interests in philology, religion (particularly Roman Catholicism), fairy tales, as well as Norse and Celtic mythology, but it was also crucially influenced by the effects of his military service during World War I. [17]  Tolkien detailed his creation to an astounding extent; he created a complete mythology for his realm of Middle-earth, including genealogies of characters, languages, writing systems, calendars and histories. Some of this supplementary material is detailed in the appendices to The Lord of the Rings, and the mythological history woven into a large, biblically-styled volume entitled  The Silmarillion. However many parts of the world he crafted, as he freely admitted, are influenced by other sources.
 Tolkien's largest influences in the creation of his world were his Catholic faith and the Bible. [18]  Tolkien once described The Lord of the Rings to his friend, the English Jesuit Father Robert Murray, as "a fundamentally religious and Catholic work, unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision." [3]  There are many theological themes underlying the narrative including the battle of good versus evil, the triumph of humility over pride, and the activity of grace. In addition the saga includes themes which incorporate death and immortality, mercy and pity, resurrection, salvation, repentance, self-sacrifice, free will, justice, fellowship, authority and healing. In addition the Lord's Prayer "And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil" was reportedly present in Tolkien's mind as he described Frodo's struggles against the power of the One Ring. [3] 
 Non-Christian religious motifs also had strong influences in Tolkien's Middle-earth. His Ainur, a race of angelic beings who are responsible for conceptualising the world, includes the Valar, the pantheon of "gods" who are responsible for the maintenance of everything from skies and seas to dreams and doom, and their servants, the Maiar. The concept of the Valar echoes Greek and Norse mythologies, although the Ainur and the world itself are all creations of a monotheistic deity — Ilúvatar or Eru, "The One". As the external practice of Middle-earth religion is downplayed in The Lord of the Rings, explicit information about them is only given in the different versions of Silmarillion material. However, there remain allusions to this aspect of Tolkien's mythos, including "the Great Enemy" who was Sauron's master and "Elbereth, Queen of Stars" (Morgoth and Varda respectively, two of the Valar) in the main text, the "Authorities" (referring to the Valar, literally Powers) in the Prologue, and "the One" in Appendix A. Other non-Christian mythological elements can be seen, including other sentient non-humans (Dwarves, Elves, Hobbits and Ents), a "Green Man" (Tom Bombadil), and spirits or ghosts (Barrow-wights, Oathbreakers).
 	  	 	 	 	  	 	 	 	Gandalf the "Odinic wanderer", from a book cover by John Howe  	 	 
The mythologies from northern Europe are perhaps the best known non-Christian influences on Tolkien. His Elves and Dwarves are by and large based on Norse and related Germanic mythologies.[ citation needed ] The figure of Gandalf is particularly influenced by the Germanic deity Odin in his incarnation as "the Wanderer", an old man with one eye, a long white beard, a wide brimmed hat, and a staff; Tolkien states that he thinks of Gandalf as an "Odinic wanderer" in a letter of 1946. [3]  Finnish mythology and more specifically the Finnish national epic  Kalevala  were also acknowledged by Tolkien as an influence on Middle-earth. [ citation needed ] In a similar manner to The Lord of the Rings, the Kalevala centers around a magical item of great power, the Sampo, which bestows great fortune on its owner but never makes its exact nature clear. Like the One Ring, the Sampo is fought over by forces of good and evil, and is ultimately lost to the world as it is destroyed towards the end of the story. In another parallel, the latter work's wizard character Väinämöinen also has many similarities to Gandalf in his immortal origins and wise nature, and both works end with their respective wizard departing on a ship to lands beyond the mortal world. Tolkien also based his Elvish language Quenya on Finnish. [19] 
 In addition The Lord of the Rings was crucially influenced by Tolkien's experiences during World War I and his son's during World War II. The central action of the books — a climactic, age-ending war between good and evil — is the central event of many world mythologies, notably Norse, but it is also a clear reference to the well-known description of World War I, which was commonly referred to as "the war to end all wars."
After the publication of The Lord of the Rings these influences led to speculation that the One Ring was an allegory for the nuclear bomb. [20]  Tolkien, however, repeatedly insisted that his works were not an allegory of any kind. However there is a strong theme of despair in the face of new mechanized warfare that Tolkien himself had experienced in the trenches of World War I. The development of a specially bred Orc army, and the destruction of the environment to aid this, also have modern resonances; and the effects of the Ring on its users evoke the modern literature of drug addiction as much as any historic quest literature.
 Nevertheless, Tolkien states in the introduction to the books that he disliked allegories and that the story was not one, [21]  and it would be irresponsible to dismiss such direct statements on these matters lightly. Tolkien had already completed most of the book, including the ending in its entirety, before the first nuclear bombs were made known to the world at Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945.
 While Tolkien plausibly denied any specific 'nuclear' reference, it is clear that the Ring has broad applicability to the concept of Absolute Power and its effects, and that the plot hinges on the view that anyone who seeks to gain absolute worldly power will inevitably be corrupted by it. Some also say there is also clear evidence that one of the main subtexts of the story — the passing of a mythical "Golden Age" — was influenced not only by Arthurian legend but also by Tolkien's contemporary anxieties about the growing encroachment of urbanisation and industrialisation into the "traditional" English lifestyle and countryside. The concept of the "ring of power" itself is also present in Plato's Republic and in the story of Gyges' ring (a story often compared to the Book of Job). Many, however, believe Tolkien's most likely source was the Norse tale of Sigurd the Volsung. Some locations and characters were inspired by Tolkien's childhood in Sarehole (then a Worcestershire village, now part of Birmingham) and Birmingham.
Critical response
Tolkien's work has received mixed reviews since its inception, ranging from terrible to excellent. Recent reviews in various media have been, in a majority, highly positive. On its initial review the Sunday Telegraph felt it was "among the greatest works of imaginative fiction of the twentieth century". The Sunday Times seemed to echo these sentiments when in their review it was stated that "the English-speaking world is divided into those who have read The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit and those who are going to read them." The New York Herald Tribune also seemed to have an idea of how popular the books would become, writing in its review that they were "destined to outlast our time." [22] 
 Not all original reviews, however, were so kind. New York Times reviewer Judith Shulevitz criticized the "pedantry" of Tolkien's literary style, saying that he "formulated a high-minded belief in the importance of his mission as a literary preservationist, which turns out to be death to literature itself."  [23]  Critic Richard Jenkyns, writing in The New Republic, criticized a perceived lack of psychological depth. Both the characters and the work itself are, according to Jenkyns, "anemic, and lacking in fiber." [24]  Even within Tolkien's social group, The Inklings, reviews were mixed. Hugo Dyson was famously recorded as saying, during one of Tolkien's readings to the group, "Oh no! Not another fucking elf!" [25]  However, another Inkling, C.S. Lewis, had very different feelings, writing, "here are beauties which pierce like swords or burn like cold iron. Here is a book which will break your heart."
 Several other authors in the genre, however, seemed to agree more with Dyson than Lewis. Science-fiction author David Brin criticized the books for what he perceived to be their unquestioning devotion to a traditional elitist social structure, their positive depiction of the slaughter of the opposing forces, and their romantic backward-looking worldview. [26]  Michael Moorcock, another famous science fiction and fantasy author, is also a fervent detractor of The Lord of the Rings. In his essay, "Epic Pooh," he equates Tolkien's work to Winnie-the-Pooh and criticizes it and similar works for their perceived Merry England point of view. [27]  Incidentally, Moorcock met both Tolkien and Lewis in his teens and claims to have liked them personally, even though he does not admire them on artistic grounds.
 More recently, critical analysis has focused on Tolkien's experiences in the First World War; writers such as John Garth in 'Tolkien and the Great War', Janet Brennan Croft and Tom Shippey all look in detail at this aspect and compare the imagery, mental landscape and traumas in Lord of the Rings with those experienced by soldiers in the trenches and the history of the Great War. John Carey, formerly Merton Professor of English Literature at Oxford University, speaking in April 2003 on the BBC "Big Read" programme which voted Lord of the Rings "Britain's best-loved book", said that "Tolkien's writing is essentially a species of war literature; not as direct perhaps as Wilfred Owen, or as solid as some, but very, very interesting as that — the most solid reflection on war experiences written up as fantasy."
  The Lord of the Rings, despite not being published in paperback until the 1960s, sold well in hardback. [28] 
In 1957 it was awarded the International Fantasy Award. Despite its numerous detractors, the publication of the Ace Books and Ballantine paperbacks helped The Lord of the Rings become immensely popular in the 1960s. The book has remained so ever since, ranking as one of the most popular works of fiction of the twentieth century, judged by both sales and reader surveys. [29]  In the 2003 "Big Read" survey conducted by the BBC, The Lord of the Rings was found to be the "Nation's Best-loved Book". Australians voted The Lord of the Rings "My Favourite Book" in a 2004 survey conducted by the Australian ABC. [30]  In a 1999 poll of Amazon.com customers, The Lord of the Rings was judged to be their favourite "book of the millennium". [31]  In 2002 Tolkien was voted the ninety-second "greatest Briton" in a poll conducted by the BBC, and in 2004 he was voted thirty-fifth in the SABC3's Great South Africans, the only person to appear in both lists. His popularity is not limited just to the English-speaking world: in a 2004 poll inspired by the UK’s "Big Read" survey, about 250,000 Germans found The Lord of the Rings to be their favourite work of literature. [32] 
Adaptations
  Main article: Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings   
 	  	 	 	 	  	 	 	 	 Peter Jackson's  The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring   	 	 
 The Lord of the Rings has been adapted for film, radio and stage multiple times.
 The book has been adapted for radio three times. In 1955 and 1956, the British Broadcasting Company (BBC) broadcast  The Lord of the Rings , a 12-part radio adaptation of the story, of which no recording has survived. A 1979 dramatization of  The Lord of the Rings  was broadcast in the United States and subsequently issued on tape and CD. In 1981 the BBC broadcast,  The Lord of the Rings , a new dramatization in 26 half-hour installments.
 Three film adaptations have been made. The first was  J. R. R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings  (1978), by animator Ralph Bakshi, the first part of what was originally intended to be a two-part adaptation of the story (hence its original title, The Lord of the Rings Part 1). It covers The Fellowship of the Ring and part of The Two Towers. The second,  The Return of the King  (1980), was an animated television special by Rankin-Bass, who had produced a similar version of  The Hobbit  (1977). The third was director Peter Jackson's live action  The Lord of the Rings film trilogy, produced by New Line Cinema and released in three installments as  The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring  (2001),  The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers  (2002), and  The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King  (2003). The live-action film trilogy has done much in particular to bring the book into the public consciousness. [8] 
 There have been four stage productions based on the book. Three original full-length stage adaptations of The Fellowship of the Ring (2001), The Two Towers (2002), and The Return of the King (2003) were staged in Cincinnati, Ohio. A stage musical adaptation of The Lord of the Rings (2006) was staged in Toronto, Canada.
Influences on the fantasy genre
Following the massive success of The Lord of the Rings, Tolkien considered a sequel entitled  The New Shadow , in which the Men of Gondor turn to dark cults and consider an uprising against Aragorn's son, Eldarion. Tolkien decided not to do it, and the incomplete story can be found in  The Peoples of Middle-earth . Tolkien returned to finish his mythology, which was published in novel form posthumously by Christopher Tolkien in 1977, and the remaining information of his legendarium was published through  Unfinished Tales  (1980) and  The History of Middle-earth , a twelve volume series published from 1983 to 1996, of which The Peoples of Middle-earth is part.
 Nonetheless, the enormous popularity of Tolkien's epic saga greatly expanded the demand for fantasy fiction. Largely thanks to The Lord of the Rings, the genre flowered throughout the 1960s. Many other books in a broadly similar vein were published (including the Earthsea books of Ursula K. Le Guin, the Thomas Covenant novels of Stephen R. Donaldson), and in the case of the Gormenghast books by Mervyn Peake, and The Worm Ouroboros by E. R. Eddison, rediscovered. [citation needed] 
 It also strongly influenced the role playing game industry which achieved popularity in the 1970s with  Dungeons &amp; Dragons . Dungeons &amp; Dragons features many races found in The Lord of the Rings most notably the presence of halflings, Elves, Dwarves, Half-elves, Orcs, and dragons. However, Gary Gygax, lead designer of the game, maintains that he was influenced very little by The Lord of the Rings, stating that he included these elements as a marketing move to draw on the then-popularity of the work. [33]  The Lord of the Rings also has influenced Magic: The Gathering. The Lord of the Rings has also influenced the creation of various video games, including The Legend of Zelda, [34]  Baldur's Gate, Everquest, The Elder Scrolls, Neverwinter Nights, and the Warcraft series, [35]  as well as video games set in Middle-earth itself.
 As in all artistic fields, a great many lesser derivatives of the more prominent works appeared. The term "Tolkienesque" is used in the genre to refer to the oft-used and abused storyline of The Lord of the Rings: a group of adventurers embarking on a quest to save a magical fantasy world from the armies of an evil "dark lord," and is a testament to how much the popularity of these books has increased, since many critics initially decried it as being "Wagner for children" (a reference to the Ring Cycle) — an especially interesting commentary in light of a possible interpretation of the books as a Christian response to Wagner. [36] 
 The work has also had an influence upon such science fiction authors as Isaac Asimov and Arthur C. Clarke. In fact, Clarke (who compared it to Frank Herbert's Dune  [37] ) makes a reference to Mount Doom in his work 2061: Odyssey Three.[ citation needed ] Tolkien also influenced George Lucas' Star Wars films. [38] 
Pop culture references
  Main article: Middle-earth in popular culture   
 The Lord of the Rings has had a profound and wide-ranging impact on popular culture, from its publication in the 1950s, but especially throughout the 1960s and 1970s, where young people embraced it as a countercultural saga. Its influence has been vastly extended in the present day, thanks to the Peter Jackson live-action films. Well known examples include "Frodo Lives!" and "Gandalf for President", two phrases popular among American Tolkien fans during the 1960s and 1970s, [39]  "Ramble On", "The Battle of Evermore", and "Misty Mountain Hop", three compositions by the British rock band Led Zeppelin that contain explicit references to The Lord of the Rings (with others, such as "Stairway to Heaven", alleged by some to contain such), "Rivendell", a song about the joys of a stay at the Elven haven by the band Rush]] (found on their album Fly by Night, 1975), "Lord of the Rings" and "Gandalf the Wizard" by the German power metal band Blind Guardian (who have also produced a Silmarillion-inspired album,  Nightfall in Middle-Earth ), nearly the entire discography of Austrian black metal band Summoning (who have also looked to other Tolkien works for inspiration) [40]  Rock band Marillion also take their name from Tolkien's Silmarillion. The Lord of the Rings-themed editions of popular board games (e.g., Risk: Lord of the Rings Trilogy Edition, chess and Monopoly), [41]  and parodies such as  Bored of the Rings , produced for the Harvard Lampoon.
Further reading
 Carpenter, Humphrey (2000). J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography, Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-05702-1 
Ready, William (1981). The Tolkien Relation, New York: Warner Books. ISBN 0-446-30110-8 
O'Neil, Timothy (1979). The Individuated Hobbit, Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. ISBN 039528208X  
See also
   The History of The Lord of the Rings  
  The Hobbit  
  The Silmarillion  
  Works inspired by J. R. R. Tolkien  
  Adaptations of The Lord of the Rings  
  Middle-earth in popular culture  
  Middle-earth in video games  
  Themes in The Lord of the Rings  
  Chronology of the Lord of the Rings   
Books
   The Fellowship of the Ring  
  The Two Towers  
  The Return of the King   
Films
   The Hobbit (1977 film) 
  The Lord of the Rings (1978 film) 
  The Return of the King (1980 film) 
  The Fellowship of the Ring (movie) 
  The Two Towers (movie) 
  The Return of the King (movie)  
External links
 Cover art 
  Adāzing - Lord of the Rings Book Cover Designs (1954 to 2002) 
Translations
 
 Foreign Language
 Translated name
 
Afrikaans
Die Here van die Ringe
 
Albanian
Kryezoti i Unazave
 
Alemannic German
Der Herr der Ringe
 
Amharic
ቀለበቶች ጌታ
 
Armenian
Մատանիների տիրակալը
 
Arabic
سيد الخواتم
 
Assamese
আঙঠিৰ প্ৰভু
 
Awadhi
द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स
 
Azerbaijani
Üzüklərin Hökmdarı
 
Basque
Eraztunen Jauna
 
Belarusian Cyrillic
Уладар Пярсцёнкаў
 
Bengali
দ্য লর্ড অব দ্য রিংস
 
Bosnian
Gospodar prstenova
 
Breton
Aotrou ar Gwalennoù
 
Bulgarian Cyrillic
Властелинът на пръстените
 
Burmese
လက်စွပ်များ၏ အရှင်သခင်
 
Cambodian
ព្រះអម្ចាស់នៃកងដែល
 
Cantonese
魔戒
 
Catalan
El Senyor dels anells
 
Cebuano
Ang Ginoo sa mga Singsing
 
Chinese (Min Nan)
Chhiú-chí Ông
 
Chinese (Simplified)
魔戒
 
Chinese (Wu)
指环王
 
Colognian
Dr Herr dr Ringe
 
Cornish
An Arlodh a'n Bysowyer
 
Croatian
Gospodar Prstenova
 
Czech
Pán prstenů
 
Danish
Ringenes Herre
 
Dutch
In de Ban van de Ring
 
Esperanto
La Sinjoro de la Ringoj
 
Estonian
Sõrmuste Isand
 
Faroese
Ringanna Harri
 
Filipino
Ang Panginoon ng Singsing
 
Finnish
Taru Sormusten Herrasta
 
French
Le Seigneur des Anneaux
 
Frisian
A Her faan A Ringer (Northern) Master fan alle Ringen (Western)
 
Galician
O Señor dos Aneis
 
Georgian
ბეჭდების მბრძანებელი
 
German
Der Herr der Ringe
 
Greek
Ο άρχοντας των δαχτυλιδιών
 
Hausa
Ubangijin Zobba
 
Hebrew
שר הטבעות (טרילוגיית ספרים)
 
Hindi
द लार्ड ऑफ द रिंग्स
 
Hungarian
A gyűrűk ura
 
Icelandic
Hringadróttinssaga
 
Indonesian
Raja Segala Cincin
 
Italian
Il Signore degli Anelli
 
Irish Gaelic
An Tiarna na bhFáinní
 
Japanese
指輪物語
 
Javanese
Pangeran saka cincin
 
Kannada
ದಿ ಲಾರ್ಡ್ ಆಫ್ ದಿ ರಿಂಗ್ಸ್
 
Kazakh
Сақиналар әміршісі (Cyrillic) Saqïnalar ämirşisi (Latin)
 
Korean
반지의 제왕
 
Kurdish
شای ئەنگوستیلەکان (Sorani) Begê Gustîlan (Kurmanji)
 
Kyrgyz Cyrillic
Теңир шакеги
 
Laotian
ພຣະຜູ້ເປັນເຈົ້າຂອງແຫວນໄດ້
 
Latin
Dominus Anulorum
 
Latvian
Gredzenu pavēlnieks
 
Lithuanian
Žiedu Valdovas
 
Lombard
El Scior di Anei
 
Luxembourgish
Den Här vun de Réng
 
Macedonian Cyrillic
Господарот на Прстените
 
Maithili
द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स
 
Malayalam
ദ ലോർഡ് ഓഫ് ദ റിങ്സ്
 
Malaysian
Raja Segala Cincin
 
Maltese
Il-Ħakkiem ta 'l-anelli
 
Maori
Te Ariki o nga Mowhiti
 
Marathi
द लॉर्ड ऑफ द रिंग्स
 
Mongolian Cyrillic
Бөгжний эзэн
 
Montenegrin
Gospodar Prstenova
 
Nepalese
द लर्ड अफ द रिङ्ग्स
 
Norwegian
Ringenes Herre (Bokmål)
Ringdrotten (Nynorsk)
 
Occitan
Lo Senhor dels Anèls
 
Old English
Se Hlāford þāra Hringa
 
Pashto
د کړۍ_ګانې رب
 
Persian
ارباب حلقه ها
 
Polish
Władca Pierścieni
 
Portuguese
O Senhor dos Anéis (Brazil)
A Irmandade do Anel (Portugal)
 
Punjabi
لارڈ آف دا رنگز (Western Punjabi) ਦ ਲਾਰਡ ਆਫ਼ ਦ ਰਿੰਗਸ
 
Quechua
Siwikunap Apun
 
Querétaro Otomi
Ar 'ño̲ho̲ ya anillos
 
Romanian
Stăpânul Inelelor
 
Russian
Властелин колец
 
Sardinian
Su Sennore de sos Aneddos
 
Scottish Gaelic
Tha Tighearna nam Fàinnean
 
Serbian
Господар прстенова (Cyrillic) Gospodar Prstenova (Latin)
 
Sinhalese
මුදුවේ අධිපති
 
Slovak
Pán Prsteňov
 
Slovenian
Gospodar Prstanov
 
Spanish
El Señor de los Anillos
 
Sundanese
Gusti tina Cingcin
 
Swahili
Bwana wa Mapete
 
Swedish (old)
 Swedish (new)
Härskarringen
 Ringarnas Herre
 
Tajik Cyrillic
Парвардигори зиреҳҳои
 
Tatar
Йөзекләр Хуҗасы
 
Telugu
ఆ లార్డ్ ఆఫ్ ది రింగ్స్
 
Tamil
த லோட் ஒவ் த ரிங்ஸ்
 
Thai
เดอะลอร์ดออฟเดอะริงส์
 
Turkish
Yüzüklerin Efendisi
 
Turkmen
Ýüzükleriň Padşasy
 
Ukrainian Cyrillic
Володар перснів
 
Urdu
دی لارڈ آف دی رنگز
 
Uzbek
Узуклар Ҳукмдори (Cyrillic) Uzuklar Hukmdori (Latin)
 
Vietnamese
Chúa tể những chiếc nhẫn
 
Welsh
Yr Arglwydd y cylchoedd
 
Yiddish
דער האר פון די פינגערלעך
   
 
  J.R.R. Tolkien's Middle-earth Legendarium
 
Published works
  The Hobbit  (1937) •   The Lord of the Rings   ( The Fellowship of the Ring  [1954] •  The Two Towers  [1954] •  The Return of the King  [1955]) •  The Adventures of Tom Bombadil  [1962] •  The Road Goes Ever On  [1967]
 
Posthumous publications
  Bilbo's Last Song  [1974] •  The Silmarillion  [1977] •  Unfinished Tales  [1980]    The History of Middle-earth   ( The Book of Lost Tales Part One  [1983] •  The Book of Lost Tales Part Two  [1984] •  The Lays of Beleriand  [1985] •  The Shaping of Middle-earth  [1986] •  The Lost Road and Other Writings  [1987] •  The Return of the Shadow  [1988] •  The Treason of Isengard  [1989] •  The War of the Ring  [1990] •  Sauron Defeated  [1992] •  Morgoth's Ring  [1993] •  The War of the Jewels  [1994] •  The Peoples of Middle-earth  [1996] •  Index  [2006])    Great Tales   ( The Children of Húrin  [2007] •  Beren and Lúthien  [2017] •  The Fall of Gondolin (book)  [2018])   The Nature of Middle-earth  [2021]
 Articles about Middle-earth by... 
Category • Name • Writings • Characters • Peoples • Rivers • Realms • Ages
   
References
Text
  Tolkien, J.R.R. (1954 [2005]). The Lord of the Rings. Houghton Mifflin.  
paperback: ISBN 0-618-64015-0
  Tolkien, J.R.R. (1937 [2002]). The Hobbit. Houghton Mifflin.  
paperback: ISBN 0-618-26030-7
  Tolkien, J.R.R. (1977 [2004]). The Silmarillion. Houghton Mifflin.  
paperback: ISBN 0-618-39111-8
 
 ↑ World War I and World War II. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 ↑ Tolkien FAQ: How many languages have The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings been translated into?
↑  3.0   3.1   3.2   3.3   3.4   3.5   3.6  Tolkien, J.R.R. (1981).   The Letters of J. R. R. Tolkien  . Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-05699-8. 
 ↑ Exploring the Diverse Lands of Middle-earth. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 ↑ The Return of the King: Summaries and Commentaries: Appendices. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 ↑ J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
 ↑ Gilliver, Peter (2006). The Ring of Words: Tolkien and the Oxford English Dictionary. Oxford University Press. ISBN 0-19-861069-6. 
↑  8.0   8.1  Gilsdorf, Ethan (November 16, 2003). Lord of the Gold Ring. The Boston Globe. Retrieved on 2006-06-16.
↑  9.0   9.1   9.2   9.3   9.4   9.5   9.6   9.7   9.8  The Lord of the Rings: Genesis. Archived from the original on 2003-08-17. Retrieved on 2006-06-14.
 ↑ Tom Shippey,  The Road to Middle-earth  Revised and Expanded Edition
 ↑ Tom Shippey,  J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century 
 ↑ Tom Shippey,  J.R.R. Tolkien: Author of the Century , Ch. 2, pg. 54
 ↑  The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien , Letter 131, pg. 145
 ↑ Socher, Abe (April 19, 2005). Grading Blues. Chronicle Careers. Retrieved on 2006-04-22.
 ↑ Tolkien, J.R.R. (1990).  The War of the Ring: The History of The Lord of the Rings, Part Three. Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-08359-6. 
 ↑ How many languages have The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings been translated into?. Retrieved on 3 June 2006.
 ↑ Influences of Lord of the Ring. Retrieved on 16 April 2006.
 ↑ Steven D. Greydanus. Faith and Fantasy: Tolkien the Catholic, The Lord of the Rings, and Peter Jackson’s Film Trilogy. Retrieved on 4 June 2006.
 ↑ Cultural and Linguistic Conservation. Retrieved on 16 April 2006.
 ↑ The LOTR Props Exhibition: Steve la Hood Speaks. Retrieved on 14 June 2006.
 ↑ Tolkien, J.R.R. (1991). The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollins. ISBN 0-261-10238-9. 
 ↑ From the Critics. Retrieved on May 30, 2006.
 ↑ Hobbits in Hollywood. Retrieved on May 13, 2006.
 ↑ Richard Jenkyns. "Bored of the Rings." The New Republic. January 28, 2002. [1]
 ↑ Wilson, A.N.. "Tolkien was not a writer",  telegraph.co.uk , Telegraph Group Limited, 2001-11-24. Retrieved on 2013-11-30. 
 ↑ We Hobbits are a Merry Folk: an incautious and heretical re-appraisal of J.R.R. Tolkien. Retrieved on 9 January 2006.
 ↑ Moorcock, Michael. Epic Pooh. Retrieved on 27 January 2006.
 ↑ J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biographical Sketch. Retrieved on June 14, 2006.
 ↑ Seiler, Andy (December 16, 2003). 'Rings' comes full circle. USA Today. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 ↑ Cooper, Callista (December 5, 2005). Epic trilogy tops favourite film poll. ABC News Online. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 ↑ O'Hehir, Andrew (June 4, 2001). The book of the century. Salon.com. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 ↑ Diver, Krysia (October 5, 2004). A lord for Germany. The Sydney Morning Herald. Retrieved on 2006-03-12.
 ↑ Gary Gygax - Creator of Dungeons &amp; Dragons. Retrieved on 2006-05-28.
 ↑  (1996) Club Nintendo (Germany). Nintendo of Europe. “Takashi Tezuka, a great lover of fantasy novels such as Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, wrote the script for the first two games in the Zelda series.” 
 ↑ Douglass, Perry (May 17, 2006). The Influence of Literature and Myth in Videogames. IGN. Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
 ↑ The Complete Spengler. Asian Times Online (May 29, 2006). Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
 ↑ http://www.iblist.com/book.php?id=130
 ↑ Star Wars Origins - The Lord of the Rings. Star Wars Origins. Retrieved on 2006-09-19.
 ↑ Carpenter, Humphrey (2000). J. R. R. Tolkien: A Biography. Houghton Mifflin. ISBN 0-618-05702-1. 
 ↑ White Dwarf Magazine, #304
 ↑ Drake, Matt (June 29, 2005). Review of Lord of the Rings. RPGnet. Retrieved on 2006-05-29.
The Lord of the Rings
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