FREE ESSAY ON UNDERSTANDING MAGIC IN J.R.R. TOLKIEN'S MIDDLE-EARTH

UNDERSTANDING MAGIC IN J.R.R. TOLKIEN'S MIDDLE-EARTH

Magic is difficult to define. Outside the literary works of J.R.R. Tolkien we do not take
it seriously but instead relegate it to the corners of myth, superstition, and the
supernatural (that which lies outside or beyond the natural universe). In Tolkien's world
what he calls magic is real and natural, and we must understand the nature of his world
in order to understand what he calls magic. There are many aspects to Tolkien's magic and
all of them must be naturally part of his world.
Tolkien devised a robust cosmology for Middle-earth. It is but a small part of a greater
world, and that world itself is but one aspect of the overall natural order. All things
in Tolkien's order proceed from Iluvatar, the All-father, God. He creates the Ainur, the
Timeless Halls, and even the Void. Without the will of Iluvatar these things simply
cannot exist. So the beginning is in the will (and imagination or conception) of
Iluvatar. Iluvatar's thought is the Big Bang for Middle-earth.
The Ainur were intrinsically different from the inanimate and non-sentient Timeless Halls
and Void. The Halls and the Void were merely areas of what might be called space (not
space as in the 3 dimensions of Space, but space as in indeterminate scopes of reality or
existence). Call the Timeless Halls and the Void a universe, or two separate universes.
Time does not exist in the Timeless Halls (apparently), and nothing naturally exists in
the Void (but things can enter into the Void from outside).
Iluvatar's creation of the Timeless Halls and the Void implies the beginning of a Here
and a There, and this further indicates that different rules may apply. Here has its own
rules and There has its own rules. In the Timeless Halls Iluvatar taught the Ainur about
music, and they each began to compose music for him. One by one, as singers or
instruments, they gave expression to whatever was in their thoughts. And when they had
progressed sufficiently in these skills Iluvatar commanded the Ainur to join together in
a mighty theme.
The Music of the Ainur, the Ainulindale, is the source of a third place to arise from
Iluvatar's thought. And music appears to be a foundation of this third place. The story
tells us that after a while Melkor initiated his own theme within the Music, causing
dissension and discord to spread through the ranks of the Ainur. And Iluvatar commanded
the Ainur to begin a new theme, but Melkor's music again invaded the original
composition, and Iluvatar growing angry raised a third theme unlike the first two.
When the conflict between Melkor's brash and arrogant theme and Iluvatar's third theme
became so disconcerting that many Ainur stopped singing, Iluvatar brought an end to the
music. And he showed the Ainur a vision which gave expression and interpretation to their
music, but they did not fully understand it. Then Iluvatar created what we call the
Universe, what Tolkien usually called Ea. Ea means it shall be or let it be. It is Time
and Space, all that is natural to Middle-earth, which is but a small part of Ea.
Iluvatar created Ea within the Void. He said, I will send forth into the Void the Flame
Imperishable, and it shall be at the heart of the World, and the World shall Be.... The
Flame Imperishable is never fully described by Tolkien, but Iluvatar kindled the Ainur
with the Flame Imperishable, and Melkor sought vainly for the Flame Imperishable in the
Void. He did not understand that it existed with Iluvatar, was apparently a part of
Iluvatar.
The Flame Imperishable therefore provides the foundation for all things which have an
existence or even a Will. It is the power of Iluvatar, his energy source and apparently
the source of all that he creates. The Flame Imperishable, as an aspect of Iluvatar, must
be the ultimate power in Tolkien's world: raw, vital, pure, unsullied, subject wholly to
his own Will. Melkor perceived it as a means to create, something he himself could not
do. Creation in this respect means to bring into existence out of nothing, to give
existence to something which previously did not exist. Melkor might be able to conceive
of new things, but he could not create them. They could not Be without the Flame
Imperishable.
However, Iluvatar gave the Ainur permission to enter into Ea and to do there all those
things of which they had sung. Those who accepted this offer became a part of Ea -- their
power should thenceforward be contained and bounded in the world, to be within it for
ever, until it is complete, so that they are its life and it is theirs. The entry of the
Valar, the first Ainur to join Ea, altered the World completely. Before it was shapeless,
dark, and empty. But when they took up their guardianship, the Valar brought to Ea
Purpose, Will, and something which can be called Power. The Power proceeded from their
Will, being a facet of their existence which Ea itself did not share, for it had no Will,
and was not a Living Being.
Ea thus from the very beginning had its own set of rules, axioms we may call them, upon
which its cosmology was founded. The Universe or the World could be shaped by the Ainur
or by Iluvatar, but Iluvatar chose not to interact directly with Ea. He left the work to
the Ainur. They labored for countless ages in creating (as in constructing, not bringing
into existence frmo nothing) stars and regions beyond the reach and ken the still-to-come
Children of Iluvatar. In the course of these labors the Valar must have founded, refined,
or at least discovered the physical laws which would be natural to Ea. These laws defined
the limits of all things within Ea.
Time is one of the measurements of Ea, as are Space and Distance. With the passing of
Time the Valar filled more of Space, covered more Distance, with the fruits of their
labors. Myriad stars and probably worlds unimaginable spread out behind them. And
eventually they came to that region of Ea where they built Arda, the Kingdom or Realm,
which was to be the home of the Children of Iluvatar. Like the Ainur, the Children would
be strictly the products of the Thought of Iluvatar. And like the Valar (and their
companions, the Maiar) the Children would be bound within Time and Space, with one
excecption. Iluvatar decided that Men, unlike Elves, should not remain in Ea, but should
seek elsewhere. Perhaps it was Iluvatar's desire that Ea give back something of itself.
The Valar's work in Arda reveals something of their abilities. They gave shape to the
lands, seas, and skies. The skies would be the airs above Arda, rather than the
apparently limitless expanse beyond them. Water rose from the seas and lands to become
clouds, and the winds blew and crossed Arda freely. Melkor's dabblings in his the labors
of his fellow Valar produced the beauty of ice amid the ruin and destruction he sought to
dispense. Melkor's ambition to make Arda his own led him to undertake a great subtrefuge
which would forever alter Arda and perplex the Valar.
Although we don't know from what Arda was shaped or made, after the Valar gave its
substance the definitions of land, seas, and airs they utilized those resources to refine
the world. They brought forth Biological Life, living things which had no spirits, were
not kindled with the Flame Imperishable (except in that they were made from the stuff of
Ea, and therefore possessed some aspect of the living fire which dwelt at the heart of
the world). These living things, divided into Kelvar (animals, living things that move)
and Olvar (growing things with roots in the earth), acted of their own accord. They were
not simply extensions of the thoughts of the Valar. They grew, multiplied, and throve
individually without benefit of the direction of the Valar.
Kelvar and Olvar must therefore represent some aspect of Iluvatar's own Will. They do not
have spirits, are not Children of the Thought of Iluvatar as the Ainur and the Children
of Iluvatar are, but they move and act independently, according to their basic needs and
desires. The Ainur gave shape to the Kelvar and Olvar but can they actually have given
life to them? The issue is not explored by Tolkien, but many questions arise the answers
to which are most easily devised through some association with the Flame Imperishable.
For the sake of this discussion we shall assume (without seeking to prove or disprove)
that the life of the Kelvar and Olvar stems from the Flame Imperishable, indirectly,
which Iluvatar used to kindle the World for the flame is said to be at the heart of the
World.
It is important to distinguish between soulless life such as the Kelvar and Olvar and
soullish life such as the Ainur and the Children represent. Magic in some of its forms
deals with life and death. What is life within Ea? What is death? These terms cannot both
be defined biologically. The Ainur, having no physical bodies to begin with, were
nonetheless living beings from their beginning. They had no biological life but yet
lived. In Ea, when they assumed bodies similar to those of the Children of Iluvatar, they
gave themselves biological life -- but they were not creating living things. The bodies
of the Ainur are like clothes. Tolkien writes:
Now the Valar took to themselves shape and hue; and because they were drawn into the
World by love of the Children of Iluvatar, for whom they hoped, they took shape after
that manner which they had beheld in the Vision of Iluvatar, save only in majesty and
splendour. Moreover their shape comes of their knowledge of the visible World, rather
than of the World itself; and they need it not, save only as we use raiment, and yet we
may be naked and suffer no loss of our being....
(Tolkien, Silmarillion, p. 21)
This passage provides important clues to more than just how the Valar took shape. Their
shapes were derived from their KNOWLEDGE of the World, and not from the World itself. The
shapes of the Kelvar and Olvar, however, must by default have been derived from the
World. By shapes Tolkien seems to mean the physical substance, the bodies, of the Ainur
and the living creatures. So the bodies of the animals and plants are a part of the
World, whereas the bodies of the Ainur are not. And yet the Ainurian bodies must conform
to some limitations of the World itself in order to interact with it.
Another aspect we see here is the reference to the visible World. The bodies assumed by
the Ainur were made in reference to the visible World, or the Seen. By default, then,
they as living spirits were part of the invisible World, or the Unseen. The distinction
between Kelvar/Olvar and the soullish Ainur and Children of Iluvatar must therefore
include some aspect of the Unseen. Their spirits or souls constitute the Unseen World, of
which the Kelvar and Olvar cannot be a part.
Here in the division between the Seen and the Unseen we find the foundation for one
aspect of magic in Tolkien: necromancy (sometimes referred to as sorcery). He makes
reference to it in many places, directly and indirectly. Sauron the terrible is also the
Necromancer of Dol Guldur. He teaches the Elves of Eregion to make Rings of Power which
he then steals and perverts so as to create Ringwraiths, bodiless spirits enslaved to his
own Will. Necromancy is a powerful magic in Tolkien but it is by no means the only
magic.
Another type of magic in Tolkien is seen in the expression of Will by the various Ainur
and Elves. It would be by this magic that the Ainur shaped the elements of Ea and so
brought order to the World. Arda was produced through this magic, not so much an
expression of raw power as Iluvatar's acts of creation would be, but an expression of a
secondary power over the creation. Tolkien called this sub-creation, a subsidiary but
independent style of creation within creation. No original creation occurs, but new ideas
are given shape or expression. Melkor, greatest of the Ainur in strength and Will, was
the greatest sub-creator in many respects, but he gradually became destructive and
nihilistic, desiring only to dominate other Wills, to own what was already created and to
control it, or to destroy it if he could no obtain those other goals.
The focus of Melkor's desire was Arda, the abode for the long-awaited Childredn of
Iluvatar. The Valar may have given it special consideration when they made Arda, for
Melkor was consumed with desire to possess Arda for himself. Melkor's desire to make Arda
completely his own led him to diffuse a great part of his natural strength throughout
Arda. He was a being of pure spirit who made himself permanently physical, permenantly
bound up within the World (within Arda, to be more precise), so as to be One with it, to
make it a part of himself. By introducing this part of himself into Arda, Melkor
established a foundation for yet another kind of magic. According to Tolkien:
Melkor 'incarnated' himself (as Morgoth) permanently. He did this so as to control the
hroa, the 'flesh' or physical matter, of Arda. He attempted to identify himself with it.
A vaster, and more perilous, procedure, though of similar sort to the operations of
Sauron with the Rings. Thus, outside the Blessed Realm, all 'matter' was likely to have a
'Melkor ingredent', and those who had bodies, nourished by the hroa of Arda, had as it
were a tendency, small or great, towards Melkor: they were none of them wholly free of
him in their incarnate form, and their bodies had an effect upon their spirits.
But in this way Morgoth lost (or exchanged, or transmuted) the greater part of his
original 'angelic' powers, of mind and spirit, while gaining a terrible grip upon the
physical world. For this reason he had to be fought, mainly by physical force, and
enormous material ruin was a probable consequence of any direct combat with him,
victorious or otherwise. This is the chief explanation of the constant reluctance of the
Valar to come into open battle against Morgoth. Manwe's task and problem was much more
difficult than Gandalf's. Sauron's, relatively smaller, power was concentrated; Morgoth's
vast power was disseminated. The whole of 'Middle-earth' was Morgoth's Ring, though
temporarily his attention was mainly upon the North-west. Unless swiftly successful, War
against him might well end in reducing all Middle-earth to chaos, possibly even all
Arda....Morever, the final eradication of Sauron (as a power directing evil) was
achievable by the destruction of the Ring. No such eradication of Morgoth was possible,
sinc ethis required the complete disintegration of the 'matter' of Arda. Sauron's power
was not (for example) in gold as such, but in a particular form or shape made of a
particular portion of total gold. Morgoth's power was disseminated throughout Gold, if
nowhere absolute (for he did not create Gold) it was nowhere absent. (It was this
Morgoth-element in matter, indeed, which was a prerequisite for such 'magic' and other
evils as Sauron practised with it and upon it.)
It is quite possible, of course, that certain 'elements' or conditions of matter had
attracted Morgoth's special attention (mainly, unless in the remote past, for reasons of
his own plans). For example, all gold (in Middle-earth) seems to have had a specially
'evil' trend -- but not silver. Water is represented as being almost entirely free of
Morgoth. (This, of course, does not mean that any particular sea, stream, river, well, or
even vessel of water could not be poisoned or defiled -- as all things could.)
(Tolkien, Morgoth's Ring, pp. 399-401)
The infusion of the Morgothian element into Arda thus altered the susceptibility of that
part of the World to the Will of others. Sauron utilized Morgoth's power to achieve what
might be termed a state of enchantment. Enchantment cannot be limited solely to the use
of the Morgothian element -- it must also be applied to other acts by Ainur, Elves,
Dwarves, and even Men which may not have applied the same principles Sauron used. But it
must be conceded that Sauron taught the techniques to the Elves and probably to Men. Such
use of the unnatural aspects of Arda must therefore be regarded as sorcerous, although
not with respect to the conjuration of spirits.
Melkor was not the only Vala to extend his power into portions of Ea, however. Ulmo, the
Vala associated with all waters, appears to have engaged in similar but more restricted
identification. His was not a permanent identification -- not a phsyical aspect of his
incarnation. Melkor seems to have perverted the principle of identifying oneself with
one's native element, as it were. Ulmo had no permanent dwelling place but moved
throughout the waters of Arda. He would try to inspire Men and Elves if they could hear
the voices or music of his waters. And yet Ulmo's power was finite, or only finitely
placed within the waters. When he met with Tuor at Vinyamar in Nevrast he said:
...Yet Doom is strong, and the shadow of the Enemy lengthens; and I am diminished, until
in Middle-earth I am become now no more than a secret whisper. The waters that run
westward wither, and their springs are poisoned, and my power withdraws from the land;
for Elves and Men grow blind and deaf to me because of the might of Melkor....
(Tolkien, Unfinished Tales, p. 29)
The image of a struggle between Melkor and Ulmo over the waters of Middle-earth implies
an immense expense of Will. Melkor was stronger than Ulmo and was steadily driving Ulmo
from his natural domain. It is perhaps reasonable to suggest that Ulmo went all the more
willingly because he understood what was stake -- that if he resisted Melkor too strongly
Arda (and therefore Middle-earth) might suffer. The time had not yet come. He needed to
act with compassion toward Elves and Men. But the implication is that a great power ran
throughout Arda -- through the land, the waters, and the airs. The power had more than
one source, but only one of those sources could be utilized in magic: the Morgothian
source.
Tolkien uses the word sorcery in several ways. Sometimes he speaks of the sorceries of
Sauron or his servants, and we are reminded of the necromancy they practiced. Sometimes
Tolkien seems to use the word in a more general way. When the Rohirrim speak of the Lady
of the Wood and call her a sorceror, do they truly imply they believe Galadriel consorts
with spirits, or do they simply mean they perceive in her a great power they do not
share?
In the Elvish conception there was no magic so much as Art. The Elves simply possessed
the natural ability to engage in sub-creation. All the Ainur could do was sub-create --
manipulate the creation of Iluvatar within those bounds he had set through the creation
of Ea itself. The Elves possessed a similar faculty though much diminished by comparison,
except perhaps in some rare cases. Feanor, the greatest of the Eldar, rivalled the deeds
of the Ainur in some respects, and even aroused envy in Melkor's heart. And Luthien,
being half Elf, half Maia, accomplished a considerable stroke against Melkor himself by
singing him and all his servants to sleep inside Angband.
Despairing of his use of the word magic, Tolkien wrote to Milton Waldman (a publisher to
whom he submitted The Lord of the Rings prior to its final acceptance by Allen & Unwin):
I have not used 'magic' consistently, and indeed the Elven-queen Galadriel is obliged to
remonstrate with the Hobbits on their confused use of the word for both the devices and
operations of the Enemy, and for those of the Elves. I have not, because there is not a
word for the latter (since all human stories have suffered the same confusion). But the
Elves are there (in my tales) to demonstrate the difference. Their 'magic' is Art,
delivered from many of its human limitations: more effortless, more quick, more complete
(product, and vision in unflawed correspondence). And its object is Art not Power,
sub-creation not domination and tyrranous re-orming of Creation. The 'Elves' are
'immortal', at least as far as this world goes: and hence are concerned rather with the
griefs and burdens of deathlessness in time and change, than with death. The Enemy in
successive forms is always 'naturally' concerned with sheer Domination, and so the Lord
of magic and machines; but the problem: that this frightful evil can and does arise from
an apparently good root, the desire to benefit the world and others* -- speedily and
according to the benefactor's own plans -- is a recurrent motive.
*Not in the Beginner of Evil: his was a sub-creative Fall, and hence the Elves (the
representatives of sub-creation par excellence) were peculiarly his enemies, and the
special object of his desire and hate -- and open to his deceits. Their Fall is into
possessiveness and (to a less degree) into a perversin of their art to power.
(Tolkien, Letters, Letter 131)
In a draft of a letter written to Naomi Mitcheson (though this part was not actually sent
to her), Tolkien elaborated on the distinctions between mortal and Elvish perceptions of
magic:
I am afraid I have been far too casual about 'magic' and especially the use of the word;
though Galadriel and others show by the criticism of the 'mortal' use of the word, that
the thought about it is not altogether casual. But it is a v. large question, and
difficult: and a story which, as you so rightly say, is largely about motives (choice,
temptations, etc.) and the intentions for using whatever is found in the world, could
hardly be burdened with a pseudo-philosophic disquisition! I do not intend to involve
myself in any debate whether 'magic' in any sense is real of really possible in the
world. But I suppose that, for the purposes of the tale, some would say that there is a
latent distinction such as once was called the distinction between magia and goeteia.
Galadriel speaks of the 'deceits of the Enemy'. Well enough, but magia chould be, was,
held good (per se), and goeteia bad. Neither is, in this tale, good or bad (per se), but
only by motive or purpose or use. Both sides use both, but with different motives. The
supremely bad motive is (for this tale, since it is specially about it) domination of
other 'free' wills. The Enemy's operations are by no means all goetic deceits, but
'magic' that produces real effects in the physical world. But his magia he uses to
bulldoze both people and things, and his goeteia to terrify and subjugate. Their magia
the Elves and Gandalf use (sparingly): a magia, producing real results (like fire in a
wet faggot) for specific beneficent purposes. Their goetic effects are entirely artistic
and not intended to deceive: they never deceive Elves (but may deceive or bewilder
unaware Men) since the difference is to them as clear as the difference to us between
fiction, painting, and sculpture, and 'life'.
Both sides live mainly by 'ordinary' means. The Enemy, or those who have become like him,
go in for 'machinery' -- with destructive and evil effects -- because 'magicians', who
have become chiefly concerned to use magia for their own power, would do so (do do so).
The basic motive for magia -- quite apart from any philosophic consideration of how it
would work -- is immediacy: speed, reduction of labour, and reduction also to a minimum
(or vanishing point) of the gap between the idea or desire and the result or effect. But
the magia may not be easy to come by, and at any rate if you have command of abundant
slave-labour or machinery (often only the same thing concealed), it may be as quick or
quick enough to push mountains over, wreck forests, or buuld pyramids by such means. Of
course another factor then comes in, a moral or pathological one: the tyrants lose sight
of objects, become cruel, and like smashing, hurting, and defiling as such. It would no
doubt be possible to defend poor Lotho's introduction of more efficient mills, but not of
Sharkey and Sandyman's use of them.
Anyway, a difference in the use of 'magic' in this story is that it is not to be come by
by 'lore' or spells; but is in an inherent power not possessed or attainable by Men as
such. Aragorn's 'healing' might be regarded as 'magical', or at least a blend of magic
with pharmacy and 'hypnotic' processes. But it is (in theory) reported by hobbits who
have very little notions of philosophy and science; while A. is not a pure 'Man', but at
long remove one of the 'children of Luthien'.
(Ibid., Letter 155)
Tolkien borrows the words magia and goeteia in an attempt to distinguish between forms of
magic, but he complicates the matter. He further stumbles when he says that magic cannot
be practiced by Men -- he notes to himself that the Numenoreans indeed used spells on
their swords. His examination of the powers in Middle-earth has failed to take note of
this fact.
Nonetheless Tolkien distinguishes magia from goeteia by suggesting the former constitutes
those actions which produce effects, such as Gandalf's spell used to ignite flames in a
wet faggot of wood on the mountain Caradhras. The game of smoke-rings played by Gandalf
and Thorin would also be considered magia (Tolkien, Hobbit, p.21). Goeteia must therefore
represent the creation of magical items, such as the lamps used by the Elves which give
light without the benefit of flame; the magical harps of the Dwarves in Erebor; the
enchanted West-gate of Moria which opens when the Sindarin word for friend is spoken; and
so on.
The goetic magic is the artistic side of sub-creation: Art when the motive is to enhance,
preserve, or heal; Sorcery when its motive is to dominate, control, or destroy. The Elves
were capable of utilizing their abilities in both directions, but more often preferred
Art to Sorcery. Sorcery might be useful as in Finrod's confrontation with Sauron on the
isle of Tol Sirion during the First Age. It might also be the natural expression of the
Elvish will as in Feanor's chaotic pursuit of Melkor. It was never beyond the reach of
the Elves, but seldom within their arsenal of preferences.
And yet sorcery is practiced by Men throughout Middle-earth: the nine Men who accepted
Rings of Power from Sauron (only three of whom were Numenoreans) became mighty in their
day, kings, sorcerors, and warriors of old before they finally succumbed to the Rings and
faded; the hill-men who seized control of Rhudaur (or the evil Men the Witch-king sent to
replace them) appear to have practiced sorcery; and the Mouth of Sauron was a sorceror
(although he was a Numenorean).
The sorcery of Men must be diverse. Tolkien speaks of Men attempting to communicate with
Elvish spirits. When the Elves faded their bodies vanished. Those who were so enamored of
Middle-earth they would rather fade than sail over Sea were likely to become haunts,
spirits dwelling in or near a favorite place. If discovered by Men they might respond to
certain sorcerous stimuli, but they were perilous for Men to deal with. The spirits might
seek to occupy the bodies of the Men and eject the native spirits, which were weaker by
nature or youthfulness. Such acts might not be so much derived of malice as of
desperation. Elves were as desperate to live in Middle-earth as Men, but they like Men
had a doom which limited their time in Biological Life.
Other sorceries Men might practice included the control of animals. Beruthiel, wife of
Tarannon Falastur, was originally a Black Numenorean princess. She learned the arts of
sorcery from her people and practiced them in Gondor. Her cats were legendary for their
devotion to their mistress and her uses of them to spy upon the people of the realm.
Tarannon lived in a great house by the Sea at Pelargir, but Beruthiel preferred to live
in a house on the great bridge of Osgiliath. She filled the garden with twisted and
mis-shapen trees and plants, and she so terrorized the Dunedain that Tarannon was
eventually forced to remove her forcibly and send her into exile. She was last seen
sailing alone on a ship southwards past Umbar, accompanied only by her cats, one at the
prow and one at the stern.
If magic in some form is available to Men, it is no less available to Dwarves, the
adopted Children of Iluvatar. They, too, are Incarnates -- spirits dwelling in living
bodies, ultimately sent by Iluvatar. Like the Elves the Dwarves are bound within Ea and
must remain in Arda until the End. Like the Men their bodies weaken, grow old, and die
naturally. The Dwarves are a curious blend of the Elvish and Human traits of the
Children, but they have their own ideas about their place in Ea and Iluvatar's plans.
Like Men the Dwarves use spells but they seem to practice a sub-creational faculty
similar to that of the Elves.
What does Tolkien mean by sub-creation? He applies it to the natural means by which the
Ainur and Elves achieve their Artistic ends. It is through sub-creation that that Ainur
bring to completion or near completion the shape and form of the World. Through
sub-creation the Ainur bring forth the Kelvar and Olvar. Through sub-creation the Elves
devise the Silmarils, the Rings of Power, and all the magical things of their society.
Through sub-creation the Dwarves produce their magical doors, lamps, and armor.
The sub-creative process is not described as anything other than Art. But Tolkien invokes
the motif of song throughout his works. The Ainur sing their great themes and from these
Iluvatar devises Ea. In the myth of the Two Trees, after the Valar have withdrawn before
Melkor's onslought to the Uttermost West, Yavanna sings before the mound Ezellohar,
causing the Trees to form as seeds, take root, and grow. In his contest of power with
Sauron, the Elven-king Finrod Felagund sings songs of wizardry and sorcery, and Sauron
sings in reply. Luthien, while trapped in the Hirilorn by her father, sings to make her
hair grow long enough for her to weave an enchanted cloak of darkness from it. The
Dwarves sing in their smithies as they create their great artifacts. Aragorn sings or
chants softly over the Morgul-blade he finds on Weathertop, as he prepares to engage in
what healing he can attempt on behalf of the grievously wounded Frodo.
Tom Bombadil sings all the time, and he uses song to deal with Old Man Willow and the
Barrow-wight:
Setting down his lillies carefully on the grass, he ran to the tree. There he saw Merry's
feet sticking out -- the rest had already been drawn further inside. Tom put his mouth to
the crack and began singing into it in a low voice. They could not catch the words but
evidently Merry was aroused. His legs began to kick. Tom sprang away, and breaking off a
hanging branch smote the side of the willow with it. 'You let them out again, Old Man
Willow!' he said. 'What be you a-thinking of? You should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig
deep! Drink water! Go to sleep! Bombadil is talking!' He then seized Merry's feet and
drew him out of the suddenly widening crack.
(Tolkien, Fellowship, p. 131)
And:
Get out, you old Wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.
(Ibid., pp. 153-4)
To summon him in their need, Bombadil teaches the Hobbits to sing a song:
Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!
(Ibid.)
Tolkien tells us that Hobbits have never, in fact, studied magic of any kind and that
there is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps
them to disappear quietlyand quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come
blundering along. But he doesn't say they cannot use magic -- they simply don't wish to.
Bombadil's song shows us that Hobbits can indeed call upon a greater power for help. The
magic may be Bombadil's, but it is Frodo who sings the song of summoning.
Song permeates the accounts of Middle-earth's magic. It is not a part of every scene (The
Mirror of Galadriel is conspicuous by the absence of singing in Galadriel's encounter
with Sam and Frodo in her garden). But then, it may be that magic is more subtly invoked
if an external source of power is used. Galadriel's mirror consists of water drawn from a
nearby spring and poured into a silver basin. Tolkien noted that water and silver were
not very tainted with Morgoth's power, but Ulmo is the Lord of Waters and he was the
source of many dreams and visions for Men and Elves. Could it be that Galadriel was
drawing upon the power of Ulmo to work her magical mirror?
The relationship of the Elves with the Valar should be closely examined. The Vanyar,
Noldor, and Teleri of Alqualonde (the Light-elves, Deep-elves, and Sea-elves of THE
HOBBIT) passed over Sea to live with the Valar and learn from them. Those Elves who had
lived in the Blessed Realm, Gandalf told Frodo, possessed great power against both the
Seen and the Unseen, and lived at once in both worlds. The Seen (the visible World, of
which the Kelvar, Olvar, and the physical bodies of Ainur, Elves, Men, and Dwarves are a
part) and the Unseen (the invisible World, of which only the spirits of the living beings
are part, and not things like the Kelvar and Olvar) are two sides of the same coin. But
it requires different magic or power to deal with either of them.
Among the practices of the Eldar we find the singing of hymns to Elbereth, Varda, highest
Queen among the Valar, spouse of Manwe the Elder King, Ruler of Arda. Although the hymns
are mostly reverential, their influence on other people may be considerable.
Aiya Earendil Elenion Ancalima! Frodo cries when he brings out the phial of Galadriel in
the lair of Shelob. By some power he cannot fathom the bright phial, which contains light
captured from the Star of Earendil, the last of the Silmarils, protects Frodo and Sam
against Shelob. She hovers fearfully in the dark.
When Sam is struggling to win past the Watchers of Cirith Ungol, he draws out the phial
and holds it up, and for a moment the mysterious spirits give way before him. On leaving
the fortress Sam and Frodo are confounded by the Watchers again, and Sam cries out,
Gilthoniel! A Elbereth! In turn Frodo speaks, Aiya elenion ancalima! And with that the
will of the Watchers was broken with a suddenness like the snapping of a cord. Did the
name of Elbereth bring down her sudden awareness, strengthening the potency of the phial?
Or was it enough that Frodo spoke the same words which had come to him unbidden in the
lair of Shelob?
The invocation of the Valar should not be lightly disregarded. Perhaps it is nothing more
than due reverence, a sign of respect. When he crowns Aragorn Gandalf says, Now come the
days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!
Aragorn's days must seem blessed indeed: Arnor and Gondor are restored to greatness, and
he succeeds in the wars which follow the War of the Ring (or at least is not slain in
them), and in due time he gladly gives up his life without reluctance or the stain of the
fear of death which had troubled so many of his forebears.
And yet, when the Nazgul, servants of Sauron, Ringwraiths, attack Aragorn, Frodo, and
their companions on Weathertop, Frodo lunges out at the Lord of the Nazgul as the
Ringwraith seeks to strike him with a deadly Morgul-blade. Frodo cries out, O Elbereth!
Gilthoniel! A shrill cry is heard in the night. When all is over and the Nazgul have
withdrawn Aragorn finds that Frodo's sword has only cut the Lord of the Nazgul's cloak.
More deadly to him was the name of Elbereth, Aragorn tells the Hobbit. Did the name of
Elbereth cause the Nazgul to cry out? When Frodo utters the name of Elbereth again at the
Ford of Bruinen it has no apparent effect. But here he has nearly faded due to the
Morgul-wound he has received, and his will and strength are greatly diminished. Frodo is
on the border of the wraiths' own world, the Unseen world. Nor is he wearing the One Ring
as at Weathertop. It may be that Elbereth's name indeed could hurt the Nazgul under the
right circumstances. As he journeys Frodo becomes stronger of will, greater than he had
been before, and Sam perceives him with other vision as a shining figure robed in white.
There may be considerable benefit to wearing the One Ring, even for a Hobbit, when
calling on great powers, despite the peril of succumbing to the Ring's evil nature.
The Valar did not wholly abandon Middle-earth after the First Age. They sent the Istari,
the Wizards, to counsel Men and Elves and aid them to resist Sauron. When Saruman was
slain his spirit rose above his body as a fine mist, and appeared to look toward the
West, but a wind blew it away to the East. One gets the impression that Manwe was paying
attention to events in Middle-earth all the time, unwilling to take direct action, yet
refusing to abandon the Free Peoples to the evils unleashed by his own people, the Ainur.
When the Rohirrim were poised to swoop down upon the Pelennor fields, and as Aragorn was
leading the captured fleet of the Corsairs up the river Anduin, a strong wind began
blowing out of the west, pushing back the immense cloud Sauron had sent to cover Gondor
and Rohan. If Manwe could have pressed back the darkness at any time, he must have waited
until the forces of the West were in a position to drive back Sauron's army. The Corsairs
had already been defeated, and Saruman was no longer a threat to Rohan -- the Battle of
the Pelennor Fields was a turning point in the War of the Ring.
During the Battle of the Pelennor Fields two forms of magic clash when Merry strikes the
Lord of the Nazgul from behind with the blade Tom Bombadil gave him. Bombadil, when he
rescued Merry and his companions from the Barrow-wight, took the Wight's treasure and
piled it outside the mound where it had lain for so long. He took from it four knives
which had been fashioned by the Dunedain of Cardolan many centuries before. Even at first
sight, the blades seemed untouched by time, unrusted, sharp, glittering in the sun.
The weapons are clearly special, and later on Aragorn says of Merry and Pippin's blades
that the Orcs who took the Hobbits recognized them as work of Westernesse, wound about
with spells for the bane of Mordor. With his blade Merry struck out blindly at the Lord
of the Nazgul as the latter stood before Eowyn of Rohan. No other blade, Tolkien writes,
not though mightier hands had wielded it, would have dealt that foe a wound so bitter,
cleaving the undeed flesh, breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will.
Numenorean spell against Sauronian magic. For thousands of years the Lord of the Nazgul
had served Sauron faithfully. He could, when his master was strong (and perhaps at other
times), take shape and walk among the living again, wielding Morgul-blade and mace,
riding horses, commanding armies. How can a wraith take shape? The nature of the spell
that knit his unseen sinews to his will is not explained, but Gandalf explains to Frodo
in Rivendell that the black robes are real robes that [the Nazgul] wear to give shape to
their nothingness when they have dealings with the living.
It is not enough that Merry strike the robe of the Nazgul. After the encounter on
Weathertop Aragorn finds a piece of tattered robe which Frodo's blade had cut from the
Lord of the Nazgul's attire. All blades perish that pierce that dreadful King he tells
the Hobbits. Frodo's sword is still whole and usable. His stroke had missed the wraith.
The robes may be magical artifacts, or they may simply be robes, used as ingrediants in
some spell which gives the Nazgul the ability to move among the living. Shorn of their
robes they must return as best they could to their Master in Mordor, empty and shapeless
Gandalf concludes soon after the Nazgul have been defeated at the Ford of Bruinen. If the
robes give them shape, they do not knit [their] unseen sinews to [the Nazguls'] will. The
unseen sinews are the sinews of a wraith, but a wraith unnaturally retained in
Middle-earth by some power. When they die, Men must leave the world. Their spirits must
go elsewhere. Sauron has contravened this natural principle by imprisoning the Nazgul's
spirits in the world, and yet they act and function as independent beings still. They are
slaves to his will, but their own wills remain intact, merely subverted to Sauron's
purposes but not replaced by his own.
So the spell that Merry's blade breaks is the spell of Sauron's devising, the power of
the Nazgul's Ring. In that much the Numenorean lore achieved a great deal against the
power of the perverted Elven Rings. And yet the Lord of the Nazgul's spirit does not
leave Middle-earth immediately when it is defeated. Upon Eowyn's mortal stroke the Lord
of the Nazgul rises up into the air and his spirit flies wailing to Mordor, passing over
Sam and Frodo on its way, no doubt, to its Master in the Barad-dur. A weak and impotent
spirit, the Lord of the Nazgul no longer serves any useful purpose for Sauron, but it
remains subject to his power nonetheless until that power is destroyed with the One
Ring.
The Rings of Power are indeed the greatest magical artifacts made in Middle-earth. Sauron
teaches the Elves of Eregion priniciples of sub-creation they have not yet learned, and
one must wonder if these would not therefore be forbidden arts. Why did the Valar and
Maiar not share this knowledge with the Elves in Aman? A key ingredient in the power of
the Rings is the Morgothian element diffused throughout Arda, and especially that portion
of the element which exists in gold. With these Rings the Elves hoped for understanding,
making, and healing according to Elrond as he addresses his Council. Of the Three,
Tolkien writes those who had them in their keeping could ward off the decays of time and
postpone the weariness of the world. And after the fall of Sauron [at the end of the
Second Age] their power was ever at work, and where they abode there mirth also dwelt,
and all things were unstained by the griefs of time.
Tolkien explained the powers of the Rings more fully when writing to the publisher Milton
Waldman:
The chief power (of all the rings alike) was the prevention or slowing of decay (i.e.,
'change' viewed as a regrettable thing), the preservation of what is desired or loved, or
its semblance -- this is more or less an Elvish motive. But also they enhanced the
natural powers of a possessor -- thus approaching 'magic', a motive more easily
corruptible into evil, a lust for domination. And finally they had other powers, more
directly derived from Sauron ('the Necromancer': so he is called as he casts a fleeting
shadow and presage on the pages of THE HOBBIT): such as rendering invisible the material
body, and making things of the invisible world visible.
The Elves of Eregion made Three supremely beautiful and powerful rings, almost solely of
their own imagination, and directed to the preservation of beauty: they did not confer
invisibility. But secretly in the subterranean Fire, in his own Black Land, Sauron made
One Ring, the Ruling Ring that contained the powers of all the others, and controlled
them, so that its wearer could see the thoughts of all those that used the lesser rings,
could govern all that they did, and in the end could utterly enslave them. He reckoned,
however, without the wisdom and subtle perceptions of the Elves. The moment he assumed
the One, they were aware of it, and of his secret purpose, and were afraid. They hid the
Three Rings, so that not even Sauron ever discovered where they were and they remained
unsullied. The others they tried to destroy.
(Tolkien, Letters, Letter 131)
According to Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age, Sauron gathered into his hands all
the remaining Rings of Power; and he dealt them out to the other peoples of Middle-earth,
hoping thus to bring under his sway all those that desired secret power beyond their
measure of their kind....And all those Rings that he governed he perverted, the more
easily since he had a part in their making, and they were accursed.... (Tolkien,
Silmarillion, p. 288)
Sauron's motives are in some ways only a perversion of the Elves'. In Letter 131 Tolkien
says the Three Rings of the Elves, wielded by secret guardians, are operative in
preserving the memory of the beauty of old, maintaining enchanted enclaves of peace where
Time seems to stand still and decay is restrained, a semblance of the bliss of the True
West. The Elves, Tolkien says in Letter 154, wanted to have their cake and eat it: to
live in the mortal historical Middle-earth because they had become fond of it (and
perhaps because they there had the advantages of a superior caste), and to so tried to
stop its change and history, stop its growth, keep it as a pleasuance, even largely a
desert, where they could be 'artists' -- and they were overburdened with sadness and
nostalgic regret.
In Letter 181 Tolkien notes that [the Elves] fell in a measure to Sauron's deceits: they
desired some 'power' over things as they are (which is quite distinct from art), to make
their particular will to preservation effective: to arrest change, and keep things always
fresh and fair. And in Letter 144 he says Though unsullied, because they were not made by
Sauron nor touched by him, [the Three] were nonetheless partly products of his
instruction, and ultimately under the control of the One. Thus...when the One goes, the
last defenders of High-elven lore and beauty are shorn of power to hold back time, and
depart.
The magnitude of the Elvish achievement, and their arrogance, is thus quite immense. As
the World itself is measured by Time and Space, the Elves hoped to hold back time, to
stop [Middle-earth's] change and history, stop its growth, merely so that they could be
artists, practicing their magics, revelling in the beauty of their youth and the youth of
the world which had given birth to them. Could Celebrimbor alone have brought about this
effect? Undoubtedly not. He was utilizing the knowledge Sauron had given him, and though
only Celebrimbor forged the Three Rings, what were the Gwaith-i-Mirdain doing as he
worked? They may indeed have gathered around him, singing and shedding of themselves such
of their strength and power as they could spare.
The defeat of Eregion in war may not have been due simply to the overwhelming forces
Sauron brought against the Elves. The Elves had beaten superior forces in the past.
Sauron's forces went up against more than just Eregion, as well: he attacked other Elven
land in the east, and the Edainic peoples of Rhovanion and the Vales of Anduin. An entire
civilization east of the Misty Mountains was destroyed and the lands of Eriador laid
waste. The Elvenfolk of Eregion may have been drained of much strength, for their power
outlived them and continued to work through the Three (and even through the Seven and the
Nine, which they helped make). The Elves had found a way to contravene the natural order
of the World. They worked a most potent magic indeed.
In the original material on languages which Tolkien composed for the Appendices to The
Lord of the Rings, he included the following paragraph:
$12 Moreover, those were the days of the Three Rings. Now, as is elsewhere told, these
rings were hidden, and the Eldar did not use them for the making of any new thing while
Sauron still wore the Ruling Ring; yet their chief virtue was ever secretly at work, and
that virture was to defend the Eldar who abode in Middle-earth [added: and all things
pertaining to them] from change and withering and weariness. So it was that in all the
long time from the forging of the Rings to their ending, when the Third Age was over, the
Eldar even upon Middle-earth changed no more in a thousand years than do Men in ten; and
their language likewise.
(Tolkien, Peoples, p. 33)
The holding back of Time thus worked even while the Rings were not worn by the Elves, and
as the Seven and the Nine were made with similar goals they, too, must have had an effect
on Time wherever they were kept. But the Three were immensely more powerful than the
other Rings, and Celebrimbor valued the Three so highly that he died rather than reveal
their locations to Sauron, though under great torment he gave up knowledge of the Seven.
Yet great though the power of the Elven Rings must be, that power had its limits. The
effects seem to have been localized rather than completely diffused throughout
Middle-earth. Perhaps if the Elves had been able to retain (and use) all the Great Rings
they would have accomplished their goal on a broader scale. But in the Third Age we find
evidence that the full effects of the Rings were felt in only two places: Rivendell and
Lorien. When Bilbo and Frodo are speaking in Rivendell, Frodo asks Bilbo how long it will
be before Frodo must leave on the Quest of Mount Doom. Oh, I don't know. I can't count
days in Rivdendell, Bilbo tells him. Months later, after the Fellowship has departed from
Lorien and been on the Anduin for some days, Sam becomes confused:
Sam sat tapping the hilt of his sword as if he were counting on his fingers, and looking
up at the sky. 'It's very strange,' he murmured. 'The Moon's the same in the Shire and in
Wilderland, or it ought to be. But either's out of its running, or I'm all wrong in my
reckoning. You'll remember, Mr. Frodo, the Moon was waning as we lay on the flet up in
that tree: a week from the full, I reckon. And we'd been a week on the way last night,
when up pops a New Moon as thing as a nail-paring, as if we had never stayed no time in
the Elvish country.
'Well, I can remember three nights there for certain, and I seem to remember several
more, but I would take my oath it was never a whole month. Anyone would think that time
did not count there!'
'And perhaps that was the way of it,' said Frodo. 'In that land, maybe, we were in a time
that has elsewhere long gone by. It was not, I think, until Silverlode bore us back to
Anduin that we returned to the time that flows through mortal lands to the Great Sea. And
I don't remember any moon, either new or old, in Caras Galadon: only stars by night and
sun by day.'
'But the wearing is slow in Lorien,' said Frodo. 'The power of the Lady is on it. Rich
are the hours, though short they seem, in Caras Galadon, where Galadriel wields the
Elven-ring.'
'That should not have been said outside Lorien, not even to me,' said Aragorn. 'Speak no
more of it! But so it is, Sam: in that land you lost your count. There time flowed
swiftly by us, as for the Elves. The old moon passed, and a new moon waxed and waned in
the world outside, while we tarried there. And yestereve a new moon came again. Winter is
nearly gone. Time flows on to a spring of little hope.'
(Tolkien, Fellowship, pp. 404-5)
Although Legolas here seems to disagree with Frodo's assessment, he notes that change and
growth is not in all things and places alike. Is Legolas perhaps dissimilating a little
to protect an Elvish secret? Or is it simply that, being from Thranduil's realm in
northern Mirkwood, Legolas has too seldom experienced the power of the Three Rings in
close proximity to recognize their effects? Aragorn confirms Frodo's deduction: There
time flowed swiftly by us, as for the Elves. The difference was more noticeable to
Mortals than to Legolas.
The Rings of Power are the greatest artifacts of magic in all Tolkien's works. Even the
holy Silmarils made by Feanor, though far more ancient and long-lasting than the Rings,
do not actively work upon their environment. They preserve the light of the Two Trees and
do not tolerate the touch of any evil creature. By the power of a Silmaril Earendil
sailed through the Shadowy Seas and past the Enchanted Isles and so reached the shores of
Aman despite the considerable power of the Valar. But Feanor did not seek to pervert the
natural order of the World. He merely sought to bring into being a new Beauty, and though
his pride and arrogance caused him to withhold that Beauty from all others, it was not
wholly his own creation (or, sub-creation). Varda hallowed the Silmarils, and without
that special Ainurian blessing they would have been less than they became. They might not
have been the key to the resolution of the great and terrible war which was fought over
them.
The power of the Silmarils was further increased by the Curse of Mandos, and when Thingol
named a Silmaril as the price for his daughter's hand, he embroiled himself in the Doom
woven about the jewels with that power, and so brought down his realm and all his people.
Melian foresaw that Thingol's quest would bring down the Doom on himself and his people,
and she had not the power to forestall it. Doriath's fate was sealed as soon as Thingol
named the Silmaril as the price for Luthien.
In the end Luthien herself forsook Doriath and aided Beren in his quest. She searched
long and far for him, and found him trapped on the isle of Tol Sirion, where Sauron (then
but a servant of Morgoth) had taken the Elven fortress of Minas Tirith. Finrod Felagund
and Beren lay imprisoned in the dungeons when Luthien and the Valorinorean hound Huan
came to the gate of Minas Tirith. As Luthien sang in her grief and hope to be reunited
with Beren Sauron sent werewolf after werewolf to take her, and Huan slew them all until
Draugluin, the last and most ancient, crept back mortally wounded to gasp at Sauron's
feet, Huan is here!
Sauron took shape as a great wolf, hoping to bring about the doom long foretold for Huan.
But he was himself defeated, and yielded up mastery of the island and the fortress to
Luthien before he fled to Taur-nu-Fuin in Dorthonion:
'O demon dark, O phantom vile
of foulness wrought, of lies and guile,
here shalt thou die, thy spirit roam
quaking back to thy master's home
his scorn and fury to endure;
thee he will in the bowels immure
of groaning earth, and in a hole
everlastingly thy naked soul
shall wail and quiver -- this shall be,
unless the keys thou render me
of thy black fotress, and the spell
that bindeth stone to stone thou tell,
and speak the words of opening.'
With gasping breath and shuddering
he spake, and yielded as he must,
and vanquished betrayed his master's trust.
Lo! By the bridge a gleam of light,
like stars descended from the night
to burn and tremble here below.
There wide her arms did Luthien throw,
and called aloud with voice as clear
as still at whiles may mortal hear
long elvish trumpets o'er the hill
echo, when all the world is still.
The dawn peered over mountains wan,
their grey heads silent looked thereon.
The hill trembled; the citadel
crumbled, and all its towers fell;
the rocks yaned and the bridge broke,
and Sirion spumed in sudden smoke.
(Tolkien, Lays, pp. 253-4, lines 2774-2803)
The power of Luthien was considerable. She was in every way an Elven enchantress, and the
most powerful Elven enchantress of all time:
Now Luthien doth her counsel shape;
and Melian's daughter of deep lore
knew many things, yea, magics more
than then or now know elven-maids
that glint and shimmer in the glades.
(Ibid., p. 204, lines 1425-9)
While scheming to escape the prison where her father has placed her, Luthien called upon
her friend, Daeron the Minstrel, to make a loom for her.
This [Daeron] did and asked her then:
'O Luthien, O Luthien,
What wilt thou weave? What wilt thou spin?'
'A marvellous thread, and wind therein
a potent magic, and a spell
I will weave within my web that hell
nor all the powers of Dread shall break.'
Then [Daeron] wondered, but he spake
no word to Thingol, though his heart
feared the dark purpose of her art.
And Luthien now was left alone. A magic song to Men unknown
she sang, and singing then the wine
with water mingled three times nine;
and as in golden jar they lay
she sang a song of growth and day;
and as they lay in silver white
another song she sang, of night
and darkness without end, of height
uplifted to the stars, and flight
and freedom. And all names of things
tallest and longest on earth she sings:
the locks of the Longbeard dwarves; the tail
of Draugluin the werewolf pale;
the body of [Glaurung] the great snake;
the vast upsoaring peaks that quake
above the fires in Angband's gloom;
the chain Angainor that ere Doom
for Morgoth shall by Gods be wrought
of steel and torment. Names she sought,
and sang of Glend the sword of Nan;
of Gilim the giant of Eruman;
and last and longest named she then
the endless hair of Uinen,
the Lady of the Sea, that lies
through all the waters under skies.
Then did she lave her head and sing
a theme of sleep and slumbering,
profound and fathomless and dark
as Luthien's shadowy hair was dark --
each thread was more slender and more fine
than threads of twilight that entwine
in filmy web the fading grass
and closing flowers as day doth pass.
Now long and longer grew her hair,
and fell to her feet, and wandered there
like pools of shadow on the ground.
Then Luthien in a slumber drowned
was laid upon her bed and slept,
till morning through the windows crept
thinly and faint....
(Ibid., pp. 205-6, lines 1466-1516)
Luthien's magic so drained her that she had to sleep after causing her hair to grow. In
the morning she took the hair and wove it into a cloak of shadow which enabled her to
escape from Doriath. She spent three days working at the loom, having cut her hair close
to her ears. And the Lay says that her hair when it grew back was ever after darker than
it had been before the spell.
In Angband Luthien once more put forth her power, unmasked by Morgoth and faced all
around by his minions:
With arms upraised and drooping head
then softly she began to sing
a theme of sleep and slumbering,
wandering, woven with deeper spell
than songs wherewith in ancient dell
Melian did once the twilight fill,
profound, and fathomless, and still.
The fires of Angband flared and died,
smouldered into darkness; through the wide
and hollow walls there rolled and unfurled
the shadows of the underworld.
All movement stayed, and all sound ceased,
save vaporous breath of Orc and beast.
One fire in darkness still abode:
the lidless eyes of Morgoth glowed;
one sound the breathing silence broke:
the mirthless voice of Morgoth spoke.
(Ibid., p. 298, lines 3977-93)
Great though he was, even Morgoth eventually succumbed to Luthien's spell. Here a rare
element is brought into the enchantment: Luthien dances upon the wing for Morgoth and his
horde. She flies around the caverns of Angband, draping her magic cloak across their
eyes, and one by one they drop off to sleep. Her song was not enough, she had to
strengthen it with the dancing such as never elf nor fay before devised, nor since that
day.
As previously cited, in Letter 155 Tolkien attempts to distinguish between the abilities
of Men and Elves, and thinking of Aragorn he raises the issue of Aragorn's descent from
Luthien:
Anyway, a difference in the use of 'magic' in this story is that it is not to be come by
by 'lore' or spells; but is in an inherent power not possessed or attainable by Men as
such. Aragorn's 'healing' might be regarded as 'magical', or at least a blend of magic
with pharmacy and 'hypnotic' processes. But it is (in theory) reported by hobbits who
have very little notions of philosophy and science; while A. is not a pure 'Man', but at
long remove one of the 'children of Luthien'.
(Tolkien, Letters, Letter 155)
Perhaps, but in the margin next to this paragraph Tolkien then wrote: But the Numenoreans
used 'spells' in making swords? Indeed, they seem to have done so. Perhaps the smith who
made the Barrow blades was a descendant of Luthien as well -- Tolkien never returns to
the subject. But he has struck down with that one thought the entire argument that Men
cannot use magic. In fact, Tolkien says:
Beorn is dead; see vol. I p. 241. He appeared in THE HOBBIT. It was then the year Third
Age 2940 (Shire-reckoning 1340). We are now in the years 3018-19 (1418-19). Though a
skin-changer and no doubt a bit of a magician, Beorn was a Man.
(Ibid., Letter 144)
Luthien practiced skin-changing: she assumed the bat-hame of Thuringwethil when she and
Beren went to Angband. And she was certainly a female magician of great power. But it is
highly unlikely that Beorn was a descendant of Luthien's, though he is thought by Gandalf
to be descended of a race of Men who lived in the Misty Mountains. Could those Men have
mingled with the Dunedain of Eriador? Perhaps, but not likely. Beorn's magic seems to
have been shamanistic in some ways. He dealt with animals and had a kinship with them
unlike any other Man:
Inside the hall it was now quite dark. Beorn clapped his hands, and in trotted four
beautiful white ponies and several large long-bodied grey dogs. Beorn said something to
them in a queer language like animal noises turned into talk. They went out again and
soon came back carrying torches in their mouths, which they lit at the fire and stuck in
low brackets on the pillars of the hall about the central hearth. The dogs could stand on
their hind-legs when they wished, and carry things with their fore-feet. Quickly they got
out boards and trestles from the side walls and set them up near the fire.
(Tolkien, Hobbit, pp. 135-6)
These are remarkable creatures, but undoubtedly Beorn has something to do with their
abilities, though whether his speaking to them in a queer language like animal noises
turned into talk could be a spell is debatable. At night Bilbo hears a scraping and
shuffling sound outside Beorn's house, and the second night he is there the Hobbit dreams
of bears dancing in the courtyard before he wakes up and hears the noise again. The
dancing may be a sign of Beorn's magic, though he produces no great artifacts like the
Elves.
Magical Elvish artifacts are not all great and powerful things. There are the Palantiri,
the Stones of Far-seeing, the Silmarili, and the Rings of Power. But the Elves seem to
make many other things of lesser power: there are the swords of the Noldor which glow
when near evil creatures such as Orcs, and the swords of Eol which seem to wield great
power; there are the gold and silver lamps the Elves use that never seem to dim or
require fuel. The ropes and boats given to the Fellowship of the Ring seem magical in
various ways, for they enable the Company to accomplish tasks that otherwise would be
impossible, and one boat even survives the dreaded Falls of Rauros, preserving the body
of Boromir. And the grey cloaks the Elves of Lorien give to the Fellowship clearly have a
magical ability in the eyes of Mortals: they nearly render the wearers invisible to
Mortal eyes, at least.
'Are these magic cloaks?' asked Pippin, looking at them in wonder.
'I do not know what you mean by that,' answered the leader of the Elves. 'They are fair
garments, and the web is good, for it was made in this land. They are elvish robes
certainly, if that is what you mean. Leaf and branch, water and stone: they have the hue
and beauty of all these things under the twilight of Lorien that we love; for we put the
thought of all that we love into what we make. Yet they are garments, not armour, and
they will not turn shaft or blade. But they should serve you well: they are light to
wear, and warm enough or cool enough at need. And you will find them a great aid in
keeping out of the sight of unfriendly eyes, whether you walk among the stones or the
trees. You are indeed high in the favour of the Lady! For she herself and her maidens
wove this stuff; and never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people.'
(Tolkien, Fellowship, p. 386)
By merely putting the thought of all that they love into what they make, the Elves are
able to imbue the cloaks with the hue and beauty of things like leaf and branch, water
and stone. As Luthien thought of sleep and hiding, so the cloak she wore gave her the
ability to pass unseen amongst her own people, and to enchant even Morgoth into a deep,
deep sleep. This was the Elvish way, to practice their art in all that they did.
The only other true artifact makers of Middle-earth are the Dwarves. Their motivations,
however, were different from those of the Elves. They did not reach so high, nor become
so arrogant as to seek to hold back time and preserve the past against the future.
Dwarves seemed far more willing to accept their fate than either Elves or Men. Thus we
find no attempts among Dwarves to create enchanted refuges, or to extend or preserve
their lives.
Dwarves were given to more pragmatic matters. We think of them as the weapon-smiths of
Middle-earth, and they were often that indeed. Telchar of Nogrod was probably the
greatest of their smiths. Living in the First Age, student of the master smith Gamil
Zirak, he undoubtedly was one of the Dwarves who acquired great lore and skill from the
Noldor. The Dwarves in their youth had been taught by Aule, but they had not lived in
Aman nor dwelt among the Valar and Maiar. They learned a great deal from the Noldorin
Exiles who had spent thousands of years learning from the Ainur.
Telchar is best remembered for forging the sword Narsil. Although it was said to shine
with a cold light, it didn't achieve much else. The blade must have been embued with a
virtue to withstand the ravages of time: even in Aragorn's day the shards could still be
reforged into a new blade. Was Narsil made merely of steel, or did Telchar achieve some
long-forgotten alloy?
Yet another of the Dwarves' artifacts was the Dragon-helm of Dor-lomin. It is not
necessarily distinguishable from other helms used by the Dwarves in their warfare, except
that it was made for Azaghal, lord of Belegost. From Azaghal the helm passed from hand to
hand, owner to owner, through gift-giving until it came to Hador Lorindol, first Lord of
Dor-lomin among the Edain. Hador and his heirs wore the helm into battle, and its virtues
included warding the wearer from harm and defeat in battle.
In Khazad-dum, while the Dwarves of Nogrod and Belegost forging great weapons and armor,
the Longbeards were building the foundations of what would one day become the greatest of
Dwarven civilizations. Durin the Deathless, first of the Longbeards, founded the city, of
which Gimli the Dwarf sang thousands of years later:
A king he was on carven throne
In many-pillared halls of stone
With golden roof and silver floor,
And runes of power upon the door.
The light of sun and star and moon
In shining lamps of crystal hewn
Undimmed by cloud or shade of night
There shone for ever fair and bright.
(Ibid., p. 330)
The runes of power may have been the most carefully wrought of Dwarven magics, for they
would have warded Khazad-dum against its enemies. In later ages the Dwarves of Erebor
made magic harps which, taken up members of Thorin's company after the death of Smaug,
were still in tune and ready to be played nearly 200 years after the Kingdom under the
Mountain had been destroyed by the great dragon. The dwarves of yore made mighty spells
they sang in Bilbo's home, Bag End.
For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.
(Tolkien, Hobbit, p. 22-3)
Capturing the light of sun, stars, and moon and storing it in the gems on weapons, or the
light of dragon-fire, was a magic similar to that of the Elves'. The Dwarves sought to
increase the beauty of the world around them, but they approached the goal pragmatically.
On the other hand, as can be seen in Thorin's smoke-rings (Tolkien, Hobbit, p. 21), the
Dwarves were capable of enganging in light-hearted and artistic pursuits. Some of the
presents Bilbo gave out at the Party were also magical in nature, and came from the
Dwarves (Tolkien, Fellowship, p. 35). 
Their ambitions therefore may not have been as grand as the Elves' but the Dwarven
aptitude for sub-creation seems no less capable than that of the Elves. The runes of
power on the East-gates of Khazad-dum had borne spells of prohibition and exclusion in
Khuzdul (Tolkien, Peoples, p. 319). The moon-runes or moon-letters of the Dwarves
represent a blending of the artistic with the pragmatic in that they served a functional
purpose but were not necessarily required.
Magic is thus a mixture of natural talents and powers and a technology of construction
the like of which could only be attempted by those races with the gift of sub-creation,
the ability to mold the world around them to their wills. Men (and Hobbits) seem to have
been incapable of practicing sub-creation, unless they inherited a strain of Elvish
blood, but could nonetheless call upon greater powers, or draw upon the techniques Sauron
had devised for utilizing the Morgothian element distributed throughout Arda.
Combining these talents and lores with a communication with the spirits of Elves and
possibly Men, Tolkien brings alive the traditions of magic from our own heritage.
Necromancy seems indeed to be the most perilous of the magics of Middle-earth, and it
seems to be wholly relegated to the Black Arts by Tolkien. When speaking of the Elven
spirits, and how they become Houseless after leaving their bodies, Tolkien notes that
they have the freedom to refuse the natural summons to Mandos, where they might through a
time of contemplation heal their griefs and make amends for their misdeeds. But because
Melkor while he was resident in Middle-earth had compelled all who refused the summons
instead to come to him, the refusal became associated with the dark influence from
Melkor.
It is therefore a foolish and perilous thing, besides being a wrong deed forbidden justly
by the appointed Rulers of Arda, if the Living seek to commune with the Unbodied, though
the houseless may desire it, especially the most unworthy among them. For the Unbodied,
wandering in the world, are those who at the least refused the door of life and remain in
regret and self-pity. Some are filled with bitterness, grievance, and envy. Some were
enslaved by the Dark Lord and do his work still, though he himself is gone. They will not
speak truthh or wisdom. To call on them is folly. TO attempt to master them and to make
them servants of one's own will is wickedness. Such practices are of Morgoth; and the
necromancers are of he host of Sauron his servant.
Some say that the Houseless desire bodies, though they are not willing to seek them
lawfully by submission to the judgement of Mandos. The wicked among them will take
bodies, if they can, unlawfully. The peril of communing with them is therefore, not only
the peril of being deluded by fantasies or lies: there is peril also of destruction. For
one of the hungry Houseless, if it is admitted to the friendship of the Living, may seek
to eject the fea from its body; and in the contest for mastery the body may be gravely
injured, even if it be not wrested from its rightful inhabitant. Or the Houseless may
plead for shelter, and if it is admitted, then it will seek to enslave its host and use
both his will and his body for its own purposes. It is said that Sauron did these things,
and taught his followers how to achieve them.
(Tolkien, Morgoth's Ring, p. 224)
Hence, through the delusions of powerful Elven spirits, Men may seek to acquire the very
powers they see in and envy of the Elves. But the peril to them must be very great. When
speaking of how he and others had been confronted by the lingering spirits of the Dead
Men of Dunharrow, Legolas said, I feared not the shadows of Men, powerless and frail as I
deemed them. (Tokien, Return, p. 150)
Powerless and frail indeed. So they must have seemed to an Elven prince who surely knew
what could happen to the Houseless Elven spirits. These Dead Men had been cursed by
Isildur thousands of years before. Because they had proven faithless in a previous war
against Sauron, they were condemned to wait as haunting spirits in the Ered Nimrais until
Isildur's Heir called upon them to fulfill their oath. As a descendant of Luthien Isildur
may have had the power to curse the Men, but he was contravening the natural order of
things. Mannish spirits are not supposed to remain in Middle-earth. A higher power,
therefore, must have approved of Isildur's words, or perhaps even granted them to the
king. And only Iluvatar had the power and authority to alter the destiny of Men. Legolas
therefore knew these Mannish spirits were no threat to him -- they lacked the strength to
refuse their own destiny, unlike the Elves.
Nonetheless, interaction with the Dead, or the Houseless, filled Men with dread and
foreboding, and even Aragorn, who as Isildur's Heir had the right and perhaps even the
obligation to command the Dead Men to fulfill their ancient vow, approached the prospect
reluctantly. Of all the magics found in Middle-earth, this one came closest to defying
the natural order set forth by Iluvatar.
So what, then, may we say in conclusion? That Tolkien used the word magic to describe
actions which were not natural to Mortal Men, but which were nonetheless natural or
within the scope of the natural abilities of the Ainur and Elves. The Magic of
Middle-earth was an expression of the will of the magic-makers, or of their artistic
desires. It was a two-edged sword, and each invocation could be used for good or ill. The
difference between good and evil magic, therefore, was most often motive. Only the
communication with the dead was forbidden, and yet we have seen that even this convention
was turned about for the greater good. Elves and Dwarves alike possessed special talents
but the Elves displayed the greater ambition or aptitude. Perhaps in their dark caverns
the Dwarves produced mighty artifacts which never saw the light of day, but if so their
achievements cannot thus be appreciated, and they seem to have the lesser gift.
But from the Ainur, the Elves, and the Dwarves magic descended to Men in various forms
and their desires were inflamed. It may be that the great technologies developed (and
lost) by the Numenoreans during the Second Age in some ways represented an attempt to
rival Elven magic. But the Dunedain of the Third Age retained only a shadow of that lost
knowledge. Men plundered the Dwarves seeking treasure and perhaps more, but in the end
they were forced to trade for trinkets and toys. And with each loss and setback, each
defeat and tragedy, the Dwarves forgot a little more of their ancient lore, irreplaceable
knowledge and skill.
If the Elves alone retained their great power and ancient lore, their numbers dwindled
with each ship that set sail over Sea. Century by century Middle-earth lost a little bit
more of the special enchantments of the Elder Days. The echoes of the mighty spells of
yore come down to us through the myths and legends of Men who only dimly and inaccurately
remember what has gone before. Science and technology represent what the scientists can
study and what the technologists can construct, and if they cannot see the Unseen, or
sing into existence a thing of Beauty, then they have no Art to study, no craft to build
with, and so they cast a skeptical eye upon what once was a natural aspect of their
world.
Bibliography
Works Cited
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Douglas A. Anderson.
---. The Fellowship of the Ring. 2nd Ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1966.
---. The Lays of Beleriand. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1985. Ed. Christopher
Tolkien.
---. The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1981. Ed. Humphrey
Carpenter.
---. Morgoth's Ring. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1993. Ed. Christopher Tolkien.
---. The Peoples of Middle-earth. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1996. Ed. Christopher
Tolkien.
---. The Return of the King. 2nd. Ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1966.
---. The Silmarillion. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1977. Ed. Christopher Tolkien.
---. Unfinished Tales. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1980. Ed. Christopher Tolkien.