The Census and Middle Earth: Population in Fantasy

        In honor of the 2020 Census, this post will be based on a random question that came to my mind a few days ago: just what is the actual population of Middle Earth? Sure, there seems to be a lot of vacant land on the continent, but the sheer size of some kingdoms like Gondor and the armies they can field seem to suggest at least a population equivalent perhaps to France... what was the estimated population of France in 1500 anyway?

Ah, well then.... Could Middle Earth really sport such a high population for its kingdoms? With this initial number of comparison and question in mind, I turned to good old Internet research, and stumbled across this post from a different sort of blog: http://www.stephenwigmore.com/2012/08/populations-of-middle-earth-lord-of.html

Utilizing real-world equivalent empires and army-population proportions, his estimate is1-2 million people for Gondor, and that is being generous. If France had a population of 16 million, even after the Black Death, and Gondor only has 2 million despite have a much larger land area, why would Tolkien make his world (and other fantasy author's worlds for that matter) so unrealistically depopulated?

There are a few explanations I can think of. First, as I mentioned in a previous post Gondor itself had gone through a plague, so theoretically it may have had a population of 4 million before that. Second, given the constant threats of Mordor, random orc bands, trolls for the mountains, raids from Harad/Umbar, etc., perhaps many villages have been wiped out, lowering overall productivity and food sources for population growth?

        Finally, perhaps the most likely explanation is that a realistically populated fantasy world just doesn't work from a literary sense in most cases. Sure, in the real world most long journeys would pass through countless hamlets, small villages, and the occasional city. However, traveling with the comfort of knowing that there's a town just down the road detracts from the majesty, awe, and dangers of the quest. In addition, many defining moments in the books come from gazing upon what once was, whether that be in the form of statues, ruins, and old roads. Overall, this analysis might be purely nitpicking, but who knows. Perhaps the most fantastical part of fantasy is the idea of a world made more beautiful by having less Homo sapiens on it.

Medical Theory and Middle Earth Part 3: The Final Episode

        In this final episode of this series, though perhaps a bit on the nose let's take a look at the Great Plague of Middle Earth and how the bubonic plague (technically bubonic, septicemic, and pneumonic plagues) of the Middle Age and the Spanish Flu of 1918 may have inspired Tolkien to add this major event in his work. What Great Plague you may ask? Well, during research for the analytic paper (which I never ended up using...) I found that in the Appendices of the Lord of the Rings as well as in the Unfinished Tales, there are details of a Great Plague that came from the East, laying waste to Rhun, Rhovanian, Gondor and lands to the north and west. Though it killed friend and foe alike, it is highly suggested that this was instigated by Sauron, who could afford to kill a few of his pawns if it meant weakening his enemies.

        Now, the first theory one could posit as to Tolkien's inspiration for using this event in his story would be the plague caused by Yersinia pestis, spread by fleas upon black rats in the Middle Age, and indeed a lot of details check out. Tolkien writes that this plague wiped out half of the population of Rhovanion, and this mortality rate is similar to many villages that the plague touched in real life. In addition, the historical plague is theorized to have come from the east, being transported to Europe via Genoese ships before spreading to the north and west. This coincidentally is the same direction that the Great Plague of the Third Age spread. However, another possibility is that Tolkien could have been inspired by the Spanish Flu of 1918. Though it killed at a lower rate than the plague, the flu is estimated to have killed 50-100 million people, far greater than the number killed during World War I. However, regardless of which theory is correct (probably both), it is interesting to think that many events in history find a way into the literature those who lived it, whether war or disease. This only makes me wonder: what sort of stories will arise from the times we are currently living in, and what themes or messages will they try to convey?

Lord of the Rings in Gaming: Third Age Total War

       As a lover of the RTS genre of video games, perhaps my favorite game series of all time is the Total War franchise (it does make up more than half of my Steam library, after all). For those not familiar with the series, in many ways Total War games are like Civilization, full of constructing buildings, diplomacy with various factions, and turn based army construction. However, what makes the Total War series so amazing is its focus on historical moments of history and real-time battles, launching the player into a battlefield when armies clash, allowing them to lead up to 40 units made up of hundreds of soldiers. Now, how does a typically historical game series (Warhammer being the exception) have to do with the Lord of the Rings? There is a mod for the game Medieval 2:Total War, called Third Age Total War, which converts the original medieval base game into a full campaign map of Middle Earth:

            As you can see from this image, Third Age Total War allows the player to lead a wide variety of factions, from Harad to Rhun, Gondor to Rohan, and of course the best faction of all: the Dwarves of Erebor (not that I have a dwarf bias or anything). While I couldn't figure out how to take in-game screenshots, I did manage to take a few pictures on my phone, but few are of okay quality at best. Thus, to get a sense of the scale the game can achieve, I have attached a link to a battle of Helm's Deep done by a popular YouTuber, albeit more true to the movie than the book: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4T9dH4dDjXQ

          As you can probably tell, this game is quite a lot of fun, especially when trying to while the COVID hours away. As for analyzing the game itself, while some online scripted battles like in the link can really capture the feeling you get from reading the battles in the books, a part of me feels like this game shows the reason why the book was written from the point of view of a small fellowship. Don't get me wrong; the game is an awesome strategy game that allows epic battles on the scale of the books. However, the downside is that it is a strategy game, thus necessitating a much more top-down view of Middle Earth, both literally and figuratively. While the beginning of a campaign can give you the sense of beating back a near-unstoppable tide of evil against all odds, most of the early game is deciding to build mines in Erebor to generate enough income to produce enough units of Dwarven axemen to defeat a neighboring Orc settlement.  Slowly but surely, the game turns into a cold calculation of alliances, nation-building, and tactical victories, which is hardly what the books are about. But at the end of the day, there is something satisfying in your small dwarven army of 1000 facing off against a force of 5000 and somehow winning... or not. However, thank goodness for quicksaves!

Medieval Medical Theory and Middle Earth Part 2: Doctrine of Signatures and the King's Touch

            Welcome to Medieval Medicine Part 2: Electric Boogaloo! Kidding aside, this next facet of medieval medicine is rather curious. The doctrine of signatures was the idea that “like cures like”; that is, ailments concerning a certain body part or organ could be cured by an herb that looks like said body part. While this was first developed in the West by the Romans, this concept could be found in the traditional medicine practices of many cultures around the world. While ludicrous sounding today, determining the efficacy of a medicine back then was trial and error (case in point, Egyptians putting moldy bread on wounds without knowing what penicillin was). Thus, the idea that God or a higher power created plants to look like the body part probably was reassuring to the healer debating whether a berry was poisonous or not.

            The doctrine of signatures ties in perfectly with athelas and Aragorn. As noted in The Return of the King, “Come athelas! Life to the dying in the king’s hand lying!” (Tolkien 1955). This suggests that the full healing effect of athelas is brought about when used by the king, providing an important connection with the herb and Aragorn. In addition, in regards to literal similarities, athelas is considered to be nothing more than a weed, having a pleasant smell but not pretty to look at. Only when it is put to its true purpose of healing does the plant live up to its name of kingsfoil. In a similar fashion, when Frodo and the company first meet Aragorn, he appears more of a potential foe than a kingly ally. However, as the story progresses Aragorn begins to take up the mantle of leadership, exposing his true nobility. Thus, the doctrine of signatures aids in both reinforcing and foreshadowing Aragorn’s development through a healing herb.

            As a final note, the idea of the hands of a king having a greater healing effect harkens back to the king’s touch, the idea that God had bestowed healing power to the royal house, thus legitimizing their reign. Thus, Aragorn’s enhanced healing abilities with athelas not only makes perfect sense, but it is also an intriguing historical parallel. 

Medieval Medical Theory and Middle Earth Part 1: The Four Humors and Frodo’s Wound

            In the midst of what should have been another Roaring 20’s which has instead become a pandemic (seriously, can big band music at least come back to offset these terrible times?), what better way to tie it into class but to explore the parallels between medieval medical theory and the moments of healing shown in Tolkien’s works?

            Perhaps one of the most central and well-known concepts from medieval medicine is the idea of the four humors, which actually was borrowed from the Greek and Romans. Composing of blood, phlegm, bile, and black bile, each had properties of either hot or cold, wet or dry. Blood (sanguine) is hot and wet, phlegm is wet and cold, black bile is dry and cold, and bile is hot and dry. Illness is caused by imbalance among these four humors, with the remedy oftentimes being giving the patient the exact opposite humor. For an explanation from an anime (yes, you read that right), watch the following clip: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBdXpnM-M38

The explanation starts at 3:40 until 5:00 by the way; apologies for the quality in advance.

            Now, what does this have to do with The Lord of the Rings? Well, Frodo is stabbed by the Morgul blade, which causes him to become cold. In addition, the illness is similar to the Black Breath of the Ringwraiths, which from the name alone suggests a dry nature. Given this, what is Aragorn’s temporary treatment of the wound? Bathing it with boiled water with Athelas leaves, a mixture of hot and wet. Stay tuned, as a future post will dive into the Doctrine of Signatures and the King’s Touch in relation to Aragorn!

So I Write Editorials for My Hometown's Newspaper and Was Thinking about What to Write...

A bit of backstory (without revealing anything about the person behind the pseudonym) seems appropriate. Basically, for the last 5 years I have written articles for my hometown's newspaper on a biweekly (now monthly) basis, and I had a deadline coming up without any idea of what to write. Thus, I present the following piece, and yes, it was published yesterday in the paper so either this piece was par for the course or the paper has low publishing standards...

The life, influences, and works of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien are absolutely amazing. Of course, it only took me rereading The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings thrice and taking a college course dedicated to the subject, but better late than never I suppose. Besides the massive cult following created by the two movie series adaptions of the aforementioned books, Tolkien’s lesser known works and essays have had a profound impact on how certain genres and works are viewed today. Whether it his essay defending the importance of fairy stories despite their general relegation to the children’s section, his essay tackling his contemporaries’ opinion of Beowulf, or the many literary aspects of his works concerning Middle Earth, Tolkien’s life and writings would be effectively taught in classes at a variety of scholastic levels, not just college.

            Though a tad meandering in a way that tempts you to reread the entire last page to see if you missed something, Tolkien’s essays are fascinating, especially since many of them have left a remarkable impact on the academic world. “On Fairy Stories” is no exception, especially given the context for the essay. Tolkien had originally written it to present to a lecture concerning Andrew Lang and his published collections of fairy tales. Tolkien’s speech critiqued Lang’s inclusion of certain stories as fairy stories, and he equally criticized the idea that fairy stories can only be purely enjoyed by children. On the contrary, Tolkien’s analysis seems quite right – fairy stories are a genre only a portion of the population can enjoy, whether child or adult. In addition, the mythic portions of fairy stories, the stuff that most modern adaptions attempt to remove for the sake of children, are essential to the essence of the fairy story. Case in point, Tolkien’s favorite fairy story, The Juniper Tree, is about how a boy is killed by his stepmother and is served as food to the rest of the family. The boy is reincarnated as a bird, and through a series of events he kills the stepmother and transforms back into a boy. Truly, anyone who says fairy stories are purely for children has never read the Grimm’s fairy story collection.

            Another one of Tolkien’s essays, “Beowulf: Monsters and Critics”, may perhaps be the primary reason why Beowulf is even taught in schools at all. Before Tolkien’s influential essay of 1936, most of the readership of Beowulf consisted of history scholars, who critiqued the work based on its historical merit. In fact, so much criticism had been written on how poor of a source of historical information Beowulf was that Tolkien claimed that the story had been buried beneath it. Thus, Tolkien expounded on the importance of the poem as a work of literature, pointing out that the story was created on the cusp of great cultural change, as tales associated with the old gods become mixed with the Old Testament via the introduction of Christianity. Contrary to critics, having two monsters at the beginning and end is not problematic for the story, as it emphasizes the theme of man’s inevitable mortality in the struggle against chaos and its agents, a struggle that inevitably ends in defeat. So for anyone in high school who complains about having to read Beowulf, you have no one to blame except Tolkien (and yourself).

            Finally, besides Tolkien’s numerous essays, one can hardly promote the study of Tolkien’s works if they do not discuss his larger, more famous works – that is, The Silmarillion, The Hobbit, and The Lord of the Rings. While teaching all three of the aforementioned works would be nigh impossible to do in a semester or academic year, the masterful writing of Tolkien means at least one them deserves to be read and studied at some point in one’s academic career. For there are so many things to glean from the books, regardless of one’s religious beliefs or prior knowledge of history. However, given that the author of this column is both a Catholic (who may possibly be bemoaning the fact he gave up multiple things this Lenten season) and an avid fan of history and the life of Tolkien, analyzing the literature from a Christian mindset and historical context is currently a blast.

            Take The Silmarillion for example, in particular” Ainulindalë” and “Valaquenta”. The story of the creation of Middle Earth not only shows the depth of Tolkien’s dedication to the world-building of his story, but it also demonstrates an appreciation for the historical religions he studied. Reading between the lines of the story of the Valar, Maiar, and forces of Melkor, one can find numerous influences from Greek, Roman, Germanic, and Norse mythology. Through all these pantheons, however, one also sees a skillful entangling of Catholic tradition. For example, the choir of Ainur, the Valar, and the Maiar almost tie in perfectly with traditional angelology, with the aforementioned groups possibly representing the first, second, and third spheres of angelic hosts.  

            In the end, one could go on for ages – the theme of the significance of the seemingly insignificant, the effect of friendship and tragedy during the Great War on Tolkien’s writing, how Tolkien’s time helping compile the Oxford English Dictionary shaped his writing of Farmer Giles of Ham – but that is quite enough. In short, even if Tolkien’s works do not become standard public school curriculum, one should still make the effort to read his major works at least once in their life. The road goes ever on and on…

What Angelology Reveals About Tolkien's Ainulindalë and Valaquenta

            After reading the Ainulindalë and Valaquenta and hearing the discussion from class, I knew at once I had to brush up on a certain subject, given both the nature/descriptions of the Ainur, Valar, and Maiar as well as the importance of singing in the Ainulindalë. That is, I had to look up angelology and the hierarchy of the choirs of angels according Catholic tradition:

Here they are, in all their magnificence (note, the pictures themselves are not from tradition, but rather from the greatest video game of all time, Persona 4). Now, how exactly does the angelic hierarchy of choirs work? Well, according to tradition, the angelic hosts are divided into three levels, or spheres. In the first sphere one has the angels closest to God, the seraphim, the cherubim, and the thrones. To them are bestowed the most knowledge of the plans of God. Then there is the second sphere, in which are contained dominions, virtues, and powers. To the virtues are given the power to control the seasons, stars, moon, and nature as a whole. Finally, in the third sphere are the archangels, principalities, and angels. These may interact with humans and contest with the servants of Satan.

            In relation to Tolkien’s stories, it can be plainly seen how ingenious he weaves certain elements of angelology into his narrative. The Ainur who choose to remain with Iluvatar “beyond the confines of the world” can be likened to the first sphere of angelic hosts. If this is the case, then the Valar can be compared to the second sphere. This makes sense, as they are referred to as the Powers of the World (a bit on the nose with the choirs of Powers) and, like the virtues, are given domain over certain aspects of nature (e.g., wind, water, hunting, etc.). Finally, the servants of the Valar, the Maiar, can be seen as the third sphere. Case in point, not only can Gandalf (a Maiar) regularly interact with the races of Middle Earth, but he also contends with the servants of Melkor and his follower Sauron (e.g., the Balrog in Moria). Now, I am sure countless people have made this connection before, but it is still a fascinating comparison nonetheless!

Destiny and Free Will

           On the question of destiny and free will in The Hobbit, Tolkien appears to follow the general idea of these concepts in previous works such as Oedipus Rex or in Christian theology: that of destiny given free will. That is, fate and free will are not mutual exclusive; instead, the free will of individuals can lead to different paths that ultimately lead to the conclusion of destiny. The destination is (somewhat) certain, but the journey is not at all written.

            One big example of this is when, despite Gandalf's constant warnings, the dwarves and Bilbo stray off the path. This leads to a chain of events that lead to the barrel travel to Lake Town. Now, the party had free will to stray off or on the path, and according to even the wise (Gandalf and Beorn) had supposed staying on the path was right and straying certain demise. However, events showed the river was the only path remaining to them to take, which meant that destiny lead them to the right destination, despite free will's straying from the path.

            However, other events show that destiny does not cheapen one's free will. As evidenced by Bard, destiny is nothing without free will. For example, in The Hobbit, it is noted during the attack of Smaug that: "But there was still a company of archers that held their ground among the burning houses. Their captain was Bard...." (228). Yes, without the seemingly coincidental message from the thrush Bard would probably not have defeated the dragon. However, it was within Bard's free will to stay and fight or retreat. That is the strength of free will within fate. Even if the thrush had not told him, even if the dwarves had not even come woken up the dragon, if Bard was confronted with a situation that required defending his home to the bitter end he would choose to defend it of his own free will.

            Finally, there is Thorin. Even in the narrative Tolkien notes that, "Some began to sing snatches of old songs concerning the return of the King under the Mountain; that it was Thror's grandson not Thror himself that had come back did not bother them at all" (182). If it was not for the free will of Thorin and his choice of giving in to his greed, he would indeed have become King under the Mountain for a long time. Instead, it is Dain who ultimately ends up the one returning the mountain to its full glory. Destiny is certainly not as clear cut as some would make it, and it is ultimately free will within the path towards destiny's end that fills in the gaps of the story.

Barrels: the Role of Natural Objects in World-building, Plot Progression

            In regards to natural and unnatural (or both) items in Tolkien’s works, what intrigues me the most is decidedly the former. Magic and magical items play a large role to be sure; however, seemingly normal items can subtly establish world-building and simultaneously advance the plot all at once. One interesting example is a humble wooden item that is essentially Chekhov’s gun, though in this case it is more Chekhov’s barrel. Obviously, from the start of their introduction in Chapter 9 of The Hobbit the barrels serve an important purpose – allowing the escape of the dwarves and Bilbo from the elves. However, the barrels also contribute a substantial amount of world-building. These barrels hold wine from other elven lands and Dorwinion to be sure (164), but they also are known to hold “other stuffs, butter, apples, and all sorts of things, to the king’s palace” (166). Through describing the barrels, the reader learns that the elves must trade for many consumables and thus rely on the river for said trade. This adds a lot of realism to Tolkien’s story; before the advent of industrialization waterways were crucial in trade around the world (of course, this only makes the inner world-builder in me wonder how this transport system operates in winter).

           
            In addition to this, the physics of the barrels themselves aid in advancing the plot as the party reaches the Lonely Mountain. Thankfully, Tolkien excellently describes the physical repercussions of Archimedes principle, which leads to great hilarity from Bilbo’s initial attempts at riding the barrel: “Every time he tried, the barrel rolled a round and ducked him under again” (170). Of course, this barrel-riding not only provides comic relief, but also leads to dire consequences when Bilbo names himself “Barrel-Rider” whilst talking to Smaug. Smaug makes the unfortunate connection of barrels to Lake Town and ultimately attacks the town, though it all turns out all right in the end. And to think, all of this world-building and plot progression from a humble, natural thing as a barrel!

I am Elanor

Good morning! You don’t seem to be from around here; have you perhaps come from across the Brandywine? The name’s Elanor, Elanor Gamgee (an Elvish flower found in Lothlorien, if you didn’t know). I was born in the Fourth Age (according to Gondor’s reckoning, anyhow) after my father, Samwise Gamgee, helped Frodo Baggins destroy the One Ring. After Frodo departs over the sea with Bilbo Baggins, my father returned home and became Mayor of the Shire for seven consecutive years. During that time the King of Gondor and Arnor (Aragorn, or Strider as mentioned in the Red Book) came to Brandywine Bridge and met my father, at which time I became a maid of honor to the Queen. My parents and I journeyed to Gondor a few years after that, I married Fastred after that, and we settled down in Undertowers in the Westmarch, there now! After the death of Rose, my father departed over the sea, but not before passing the Red Book on to me. Care to see it? It is called the Red Book of Westmarch now…



Goodness, that took a bit of time to write. At first, I thought it would be quite a short blog post, given that Elanor was only 6 months old at the end of The Return of the King. However, after reading the extensive appendices I now stand corrected! I am pleasantly surprised from the experience. I knew Tolkien had created an incredibly detailed world through The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings; however, I did not realize how much information could be gleaned after the alleged last page of the story. Truly, there is always more to the story after the, “’Well, I’m back’”.