[The Squatter of Amon Rûdh]

Interesting that Tolkien gives central importance to riddling not to the Rohirrim, but to the hobbits--or at least Gollem and Bilbo. Also interesting that riddles are absent from Beowulf. I can't recall that The Battle of Maldon has any, but it's been some time since I read it. Maybe our resident Old English scholars--Squatter and Fordim-- can suggest why-- if indeed it is the case--riddles are absent from the heroic literature.

To be quite honest, a lot of the belief in the Anglo-Saxon love of riddles is based on conjecture, mainly raised to explain why a bishop would donate a collection of them, some of which are extremely suggestive, to a group of Benedictine monks. Clearly wisdom and knowledge were important to Anglo-Saxons, just as to their cousins in the Norse world, but their own maxims could well have been influenced by biblical models, and much ink has been spent on debating the point. What we might term (and I will because I'm not being marked) the 'greatest hits' of Anglo-Saxon England, apart from the Exeter Book riddles themselves, contain little of the character of Bilbo and Gollum's encounter in The Hobbit. That looks more like the sort of wisdom contest that one encounters in Vafþrúðnismál (translated here and here), although in the Icelandic poem there are no riddles, only a direct testing of knowledge with a suitably high stake. An Old-English treatment of the same form of contest is Solomon and Saturn, in which the pagan deity, made human in line with early-medieval thinking, contends with the legendarily wise king of Israel. In this latter contest, the stake is not a head but faith: Saturn is eventually convinced of the truth of Christianity and laughs with joy at the realisation.

Perhaps the closest episode to the contest in The Hobbit that I've seen is Alcuin's Disputatio Pippini cum Albino scholastico. This is a Latin work, written at the court of Charlemagne, but its author was a Northumbrian with close ties to the northern English church. Then again, in this third piece, there is no stake. The contest is a light-hearted game between two learned men, scholar and patron, and lacks the confrontational aspects of the two examples above.

What Tolkien did in Riddles in the Dark and throughout The Hobbit was to combine disparate Germanic ideas in a new context (yes, I know there's a word for that, but I don't like it). Bilbo stands in the role of Oðinn, and his head is also at stake. However, instead of the rather disappointing oral examination to which the Norse god and the frost-giant subject one another, Tolkien substitutes actual riddles with the same enthusiasm as did Alcuin. He reconstructs a game in which the Exeter Book riddles might have been used, following the pattern of medieval exemplars.

Heroic poetry has little space for formalised riddle-contests, although it does abound with maxims and contests of wit and intelligence. Indeed, the opening lines of The Finnsburh fragment may be the conclusion of a pseudo-riddle, in which a mysterious phenomenon is described in riddling terms, only to be explained by the hero of the piece. The most obvious point is that heroic literature lives chiefly on the battlefield, whereas riddles are definitely an occupation for an idle hour. There seems little sense in warriors hurling crossword clues at one another when they ought to be throwing spears, and the main use of conundra is therefore to demonstrate the intellectual superiority of the protagonists. In The Hobbit, Bilbo's winning riddle only demonstrates his own confusion, which is probably a subtle joke on Tolkien's part: many hours have been spent in debate over the meaning of Old English riddles.

The Rohirrim, although Anglo-Saxon in many respects, are based on the characters of Old English poetry, which as it survives is not laden with formal riddles. The closest that heroic Anglo-Saxon verse comes to genuine riddles is its extensive use of metaphor and variation, which is used by some to suggest a love of enigmatic speech. Being more rooted in the heroic episodes, the Rohirrim are less likely to show the more playful aspects of surviving Anglo-Saxon culture that Tolkien gives to the Hobbits, although it is unlikely that the Rohirrim were without riddles; I am sure that The Lord of the Rings contains a passing reference by Merry to Théoden's knowledge of them, although I must rely on another member's better memory to confirm or deny this. [EDIT: Actually it doesn't. I looked last night and could find no such reference. Since it doesn't seem to appear in the Letters or Unfinished Tales either, it must have been a figment of my imagination.]

On the subject of Mercia, we should be very circumspect. The Old English form of this name, Mierce means 'border people', which is a good description of both the Rohirrim and the Mercians. The Old English word mearc, mearce means, among other things, a boundary, and Tolkien's use of it in The Lord of the Rings is probably descriptive rather than related to the Anglo-Saxon kingdom. It should also be borne in mind that Mercia does not equal the West Midlands, as Tolkien would have been the first to point out. At its height under Offa, Mercia formed the whole of central England, from the northern borders of Kent and Wessex to the Humber, from parts of modern Wales to East Anglia. Tolkien sometimes described himself as a Mercian, but his fiction in that direction need not have influenced his portrayal of Rohan.

Sorry to continue down what looks to be a cul-de-sac, but in my defence I was asked.

As for Tolkien's love of the culture which, as Lal says, "was cut off in its flowering"--and to relate this to the question of nostalgia--I know of at least one Old English scholar who used to hand out a chronology which ended with this:

"1066 Sic Transit Gloria Mundi"

Indeed it does, and, indeed, did: sic semper barbari vincent. This is the main pillar of my proof that in the end every civilisation is destroyed by pretentious nouveaux riches.