The Lord of the Rings

I've been re-reading The Lord of the Rings.  Near the end of The Fellowship of the Ring, the elves in Lothlórien give lembas to the members of the fellowship, and this lembas is mentioned again near the beginning of The Two Towers (which I'm reading now).  In one of his letters (#213 in The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien edited by Humphrey Carpenter), Tolkien writes (apparently approvingly) that a reader "saw in waybread (lembas) = viaticum and the reference to its feeding the will (vol. III, p. 213) and being more potent when fasting, a derivation from the Eucharist."  I don't disagree with this, but I think 1 Kings 19 provides a closer analogue, at least in a more prosaic sense.

4 But he [Elijah] himself went a day's journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree.  And he asked that he might die, saying, 'It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.'  5 And he lay down and slept under a broom tree.  And behold, an angel touched him and said to him, 'Arise and eat.'  6 And he looked, and behold, there was at his head a cake baked on hot stones and a jar of water.  And he ate and drank and lay down again.  7 And the angel of the LORD came again a second time and touched him and said, 'Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.'  8 And he arose and ate and drank, and went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb, the mount of God.

Like the cake God gives to Elijah, lembas sustains travellers.  When the elves give it to the fellowship, they say, "One [cake] will keep a traveller on his feet for a day of long labour, even if he be one of the tall Men of Minas Tirith" (Book II, Chapter VIII).  This is borne out at the beginning of The Two Towers where "Often in their hearts they [Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli] thanked the Lady of Lórien for the gift of lembas for they could eat of it and find new strength even as they ran" (Book III, Chapter II).  When they meet Éomer, he's surprised at the great distance they've covered in such short time.  Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli are able to sustain this pace because of the lembas in the same way that Elijah "went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights."

Alliteration in The Return of the King

While re-reading The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, I found multiple instances where Tolkien's writing style emulates that of Anglo-Saxon poems.  Most of my knowledge of Anglo-Saxon poems comes from the introduction to my edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.  The version I have is in the Oxford World's Classics series, translated by Keith Harrison with an introduction by Helen Cooper.  In the introduction Cooper notes the frequent alliteration in the poem: "the defining feature of the poems of the movement [the "Alliterative Revival" of the 14th century] is the repetition of key sounds within each line, rather than a rhyme or a strictly regular metrical pattern."  Additionally, the introduction to one of my editions of Beowulf mentions this alliteration.  The translator - Burton Raffel - notes that he "felt it advisable, even obligatory, to alliterate much more freely, occasionally as the Old English alliterates," and in the afterword Roberta Frank notes that the lines are "linked by alliteration."  While Beowulf is older than Sir Gawain the Green Knight, through that particular stylistic element they're connected (based on Cooper's comments on the "Alliterative Revival," it seems as if the alliteration in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight might be reviving that of poems like Beowulf).  The themes (of knights and battles) are similar too.  Tolkien studied - and, if I'm not mistaken, even taught - Anglo-Saxon literature (I recently got his translation of Beowulf), so I'm pretty sure that he would have been familiar with this particular feature and it's not surprising that he includes it in The Lord of the Rings.

This posts contains spoilers for The Return of the King.

The first instance I found of this alliteration is at the end of Chapter 3 (The Muster of Rohan).  Before the knights of Rohan go to aid Gondor, they sing a song about Théoden:

From dark Dunharrow in the dim morning
with thane and captain rode Thengel's son:
to Edoras he came, the ancient halls
of the Mark-wardens mist-enshrouded;
golden timbers were in gloom mantled.
Farewell he bade to his free people,
hearth and high-seat, and the hallowed places,
where long he had feasted ere the light faded.
Forth rode the king, fear behind him,
fate before him.  Fealty kept he;
oaths he had taken, all fulfilled them.
Forth rode Théoden.  Five nights and days
east and onward rode the Eorlingas
through Folde and Fenmarch and the Firienwood,
six thousand spears to Sunlending,
Mundburg the mighty under Mindolluin,
Sea-kings' city in the South-kingdom
foe-beleaguered, fire-encircled.
Doom drove them on.  Darkness took them,
horse and horseman; hoofbeats afar
sank into silence: so the songs tell us.

Once they arrive and the battle begins (at the end of Chapter 5, the title of which [The Ride of the Rohirrim] is alliterative in itself), there's an-other alliterative cheer:

Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!
Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!
spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,
a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!
Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!

But, interestingly, that alliterative element also makes its way into Tolkien's prose here:

With that he [Théoden] seized a great horn from Guthláf, his banner-bearer, and he blew such a blast upon it that it burst asunder.  And straightway all the horns in the host were lifted up in music, and the blowing of the horns of Rohan in that hour was like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.

... 

Suddenly the king cried to Snowmane and the horse sprang away.  Behind him his banner blew in the wind.  ...  Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and the front of the first éored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore.  ...  Fey he [Théoden] seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins.  ...  His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed.  ...  The hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them,  ...  And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.

When Éomer takes up the kingship in Chapter 6 (The Battle of the Pelennor Fields), he continues the alliterative verses:

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising
I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:
Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!

And the alliteration is present in the song that recounts the battle:

We heard of the horns in the hills ringing,
the swords shining in the South-kingdom.
Steeds went striding to the Stoningland
as wind in the morning.  War was kindled.
There Théoden fell, Thengling mighty,
to his golden halls and green pastures
in the Northern fields never returning,
high lord of the host.  Harding and Guthláf,
Dúnhere and Déorwine, doughty Grimbold,
Herefara and Herubrand, Horn and Fastred,
fought and fell there in a far country:
in the Mounds of Mundburg under mould they lie
with their league-fellows, lords of Gondor.
Neither Hirluin the Fair to the hills by the sea,
nor Forlong the old to the flowering vales
ever, to Arnach, to his own country
returned in triumph; nor the tall bowmen,
Derufin and Duilin, to their dark waters,
meres of Morthond under mountain-shadows.
Death in the morning and at day's ending
lords took and lowly.  Long now they sleep
under grass in Gondor by the Great River.
Grey now as tears, gleaming silver,
red then it rolled, roaring water:
foam dyed with blood flamed at sunset:
as beacons mountains burned at evening;
red fell the dew in Rammas Echor.

And finally, there's the song sung at Théoden's funeral (in Chapter 6 [Many Partings] of Book Six), which is similar to what Éomer says when he rides into battle:

Out of doubt, out of dark, to the day's rising
he rode singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.
Hope he rekindled, and in hope ended;
over death, over dread, over doom lifted
out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.

I started paying attention to all of the alliteration of the characters from Rohan only while reading The Return of the King, so I might have missed a lot in The Two Towers and even in the beginning of The Return of the King.  However, I still think there's enough alliteration present to connect Rohan to those Anglo-Saxon poems.

There are some other elements in The Lord of the Rings that I feel have precedents in Beowulf (for instance, Meduseld seems to be Tolkien's version of Herot), but I'm going to have to re-read both in order to find specific descriptions of each to compare.

Biblical Allusions in The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

In May, I started re-reading The Lord of the Rings.  The last and only other time I read it was for a class (for which I had to rush through the book in about three weeks), so it's been interesting being able to read it slowly and actually pay attention to things.

A few days ago, I finished The Two Towers, and in two different chapters I'd found that Tolkien employs extended Biblical allusions.  The first is in Book Three, Chapter 10 "The Voice of Saruman."  Gandalf leads a party to Orthanc to talk to Saruman, and he warns them to beware of his (Saruman's) voice.  The narration describes that "all that it said seemed wise and reasonable, and desire awoke in them by swift agreement to seem wise themselves."  This is similar to the serpent's temptation in Genesis 3:  "But the serpent said to the woman, 'You will not surely die.  For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.'" (Genesis 3:4)  Both the serpent and Saruman appeal to the desire of knowledge; the serpent to "knowing good and evil," and Saruman to "seem[ing] wise."  When Éomer tries to dissuade Théoden from listening to what Saruman suggests, Saruman himself makes the connection between deceptive talk and snakes:  "'If we speak of poisoned tongues what shall we say of yours, young serpent?' said Saruman."

After Gandalf reveals that he is no longer Gandalf the Grey, but Gandalf the White, Saruman's staff breaks.  "There was a crack, and the staff split asunder in Saruman's hand, and the head of it fell down at Gandalf's feet."  The significance here, with regard to the Biblical allusions, is the head and the feet.  After the serpent's deception, God curses him, saying, "'I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel'" (Genesis 3:15).  (I think some translations of the Bible have it as "he shall crush your head," with which Tolkien's "split[ting] asunder" fits more closely, image-wise.)  Here, with Saruman as the serpent, that head bruising is fulfilled in the splitting of the staff and the head's falling down to Gandalf's feet.  There's no bruising of the heel though, and I think that's because this is Gandalf the White.  In the same way that man could not overcome sin until after God is incarnate in Christ, Gandalf could not overcome Saruman until after he's become Gandalf the White.  At least, that's if my grasp of theology and The Lord of the Rings is correct.  So, in a way, through the Biblical allusions, Tolkien connects sin and the power of Sauron, who is working through Saruman.

The second set of allusions I discovered is in Book Four, Chapter 8 "The Stairs of Cirith Ungol."  The setting is described as a "valley of shadow and cold deathly light," which is a fairly blatant reference to Psalm 23, specifically "the valley of the shadow of death" in verse 4.  Tolkien just changed "death" from a noun into an adjective.  In the same way that Tolkien uses the Biblical allusions to Genesis 3 to strengthen his own setting and characters in Book Three, Chapter 10, he uses the pastoral imagery of Psalm 23 to strengthen the contrast between Mordor and Galadriel in Book Four, Chapter 8.  The Ring Wraiths come close to where Frodo and Sam are hiding, but instead of clutching the Ring, Frodo holds on to the phial of Galadriel.  A little later Frodo "took his staff in one hand the phial in his other."  This is a mirror of the later half of Psalm 23:4 - "your rod and your staff, they comfort me."  The staff that Faramir gave Frodo and the phial of Galadriel help Frodo on his way to Mordor in a similar manner that the shepherd's rod and staff comfort the sheep in the pastoral language of Psalm 23.  Near the end of the chapter in The Two Towers, there's also a reference to the "green pastures" and "still waters" of Psalm 23:2.  "'Sleep!' said Frodo and sighed, as if out of a desert he had seen a mirage of cool green."

In both of these instances, the allusions that Tolkien uses strengthen his descriptions and characterizations.

The Hobbit or The Odyssey

I recently re-read The Hobbit.  The first time I read it (in fall 2012), I hadn't read The Odyssey.  But now that I'm somewhat familiar with The Odyssey after reading it in spring 2013, I found a lot of elements in The Hobbit that resemble The Odyssey.  (It's been over a year since I last read The Odyssey, so I might be a bit vague in describing some of these connections.)

There's the obvious connection between Bilbo's journey and Odysseus' (although the same could be said for any number of adventure stories).  After all, the subtitle to The Hobbit is There and Back Again.  So, in the same way that Odysseus travels from Ithaca to the Trojan War and the back again, Bilbo travels from Bag End to the Lonely Mountain and then back again.  However, Thorin also bears some resemblance to Odysseus in that he's a king trying to regain his former position.  Additionally, both Thorin and Odysseus are trying to regain their treasure - Thorin's treasure in the actual definition, and Odysseus' more figuratively, as he's trying to get back to his wife Penelope.

Thorin is also cast in the rôle of Odysseus when he stabs one of the trolls in the eye in Chapter II.  "He caught up a big branch all on fire at one end; and Bert got that end in his eye before he could step aside."  In The Odyssey, Odysseus (with the help of his men) stabs Polyphemus in the eye with a flaming stick.

There's also a slight connection between the Lotus Eaters and the river that Bombur falls into in Chapter VIII.  After falling in, he "slept on with a smile on his fat face, as if he no longer cared for all the trouble that vexed them."  Later, in Chapter XVI, it's noted that "ever since the adventure in the forest he was always trying to recapture the beautiful dreams he had."  In The Odyssey, those who ate the lotus no longer cared about returning home.  It's not exactly the same in The Hobbit, but there is a certain similarity.

It's not surprising that Tolkien used various elements from The Odyssey in writing The Hobbit because not only was he trying to write an adventure but he was also interested in those old adventures and myths (I also have his The Legend of Sigurd & Gudrún, which is based on mythology).  Naturally, parts of them would make their way into his own writing.