Middle-Earth Essence

[Lhunardawen]

Originally Posted by Fordim Hedgethistle

Coming home through the dark after a long day, and having my baby son passed into my arms.

"Well, I'm back."

Originally Posted by Encaitare

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww... Daddy Hedgethistle

Exactly what I said.

Seeing a ring of any kind dangling from a chain, like a pendant, around anyone's neck.

The planet Venus (which I lovingly call Earendil) amidst a clear night sky.

Anything remotely related to Christmas (since I finished LotR circa Christmas 2002)

[Child of the 7th Age]

What a great idea for a topic! Fun to read what others have said or to think about this on your own.

Let's see. Here goes....


***Tramping over the sand in Galveston while watching the waves from the Gulf come piling onto the beach..... I always feel like one of the inhabitants of Numenor who had so much but always wanted a little more. I stand looking out at the water, fascinated by the power of the waves and filled with longing, but can only get the tiniest glimpse of Tol Eressea,

***Sitting at my desk late at night or early in the morning when no one else is up. The house is dead silent, and I am working on a character or scene from a story.....For the life of me, I can't help but think of Tolkien in his garage study, or Frodo at Bag-end scribbling in the Red Book after the war, all linked together and dabbling in a sea of stories,

***Planning a big, crazy party for an extremely excited twelve-year old daughter (who is having a bat mitzvah) gives me considerable sympathy for poor Bilbo who was going nuts with all the last minute details while thinking of how he needed more time to write and wanted to escape to Rivendell.... ,

***Here's one probably unique to me but I am instantly reminded of hobbits whenever I spend an afternoon at a baseball game in a minor league park accompanied by family or friends....The hobbits would have loved the hodgepodge of small town activity, the smell of sausages being grilled, the sack races and competitions to chow down the most moonpies in five minutes, children playing under the stands while their parents chat and root for their favorite team, even the young players not yet spoiled by success who will come over to the railing to talk with you before and after the game, offering sage tips on batting to middle-age wannabees,

***Barrelling down I-95 through the middle of New Jersey and watching all the belching smokestacks from the refineries, their lights twinkling in a grotesque wonderland of horrors, sadly makes me remember Saruman and his evil genius for despoiling the land....Why couldn't he have put that talent to use on other things? And why can't we stop doing this to ourselves. Sigh....,

***Standing in a sea of bluebonnets in mid-April, with blossoms stretching out as far as I can see, the scent from flowers heavy in the air....for a minute Texas becomes a little piece of Middle-earth, though I'm not sure precisely where,

***Reflecting on my life with a certain degree of longing and sadness....recalling so many places I would love to revisit and people with whom I'd like to talk again....But turning back the page isn't possible, so I remember Frodo on Tol Eressea as he turns eastward and wonders what Samwise is doing at that precis moment of the day,

***And, like Fordim, the ultimate epiphany comes through the eyes of my own children....They are older than his, so for me the tie-in is not the present ending of the book, but the discarded epilogue of Lord of the Rings where Samwise sits in glory among his young crew and tells stories of the old days, trying to capture the glow that still remains, even though so much has ended. I have a pre-teen and a teenager but they are still not to old to sit down and share stories, adding a few of their own....

[Kransha]

Originally Posted by Child of the 7th Age

***Barrelling down I-95 through the middle of New Jersey and watching all the belching smokestacks from the refineries, their lights twinkling in a grotesque wonderland of horrors, sadly makes me remember Saruman and his evil genius for despoiling the land....Why couldn't he have put that talent to use on other things? And why can't we stop doing this to ourselves. Sigh....,

Child...I'm slighted. You've stolen one of my all-important connections to Middle-Earth!...Well, I suppose this makes us kindred spirits. Comfort yourself with the fact that I-95 isn't quite the model route for roadside aesthetics, and that better can be found. Plus, in NJ, you can turn off almost anywhere and find yourself in the middle of scenic, rural, low-tech nowheresville.

For me...

-Reading Hemmingway, or Hawthorne. For some reason, despite the lack of jollity, I feel like I'm listening to (in my crazy little head) a rather twisted combination of Tom Bombadil and Treebeard, with all the 'hastiness' of the old Tree-herder, and all the droning prose-etry of Tom. Also, listening to certain poetry read or from a recording, gives me the distinct impression that I'm listening to Tom, but not all poetry. Mostly Yeats, Whitman, or Longfellow, which has some mild effect, and/or affect on my countenance. It doesn't really connect me to M-E, per se, but it is easier to listen to Yeats when you imagine Bombadilo reciting it...

-As some of you may know, and some of you, like the esteemed F. Hedgethistle, certainly know, one of my lower-paying, secondary jobs is thespianary, or, the business of dramatic, melodramatic, polydramatic, and pickledramatic theater. Certain roles, that a thespian is presented in his or her life, are bound to remind him of his own life experiences, unless the play is downright weird (Marat Sad, for example). So, every now and then, I get to perform in something that draws me into Tolkien, via characterization, or maybe plot. Once, after a performance of Shakespeare's play, Othello (Plot in a nutshell, for those who don't know: Moor meets girl, moor loves girl, moor thinks girl is cheating, moor kills girl), in which I was playing the 'villain,' Iago, I was told by a colleague, who had recently seen the LotR movies at my behest (not quite into the books yet), commented off-hand that my performance reminded him, slightly, of Grima Wormtongue. Now, this is not a point of pride, since I was trying to make the performance distinctly non-Brad Dourif, but it was still interesting to hear from another that I had actually slipped, mentally, into the comfortable vernacular of a character from Tolkien. Such things have happened on more than one occasion...not always for the better (making Winston Churchill sound like Treebeard is definately not something to be proud of).

-White gems, diamonds, or something to that effect, in a group of three. I swear, I can't touch certain shiny, crystalline objects, for fear that my hand will melt on contact, and I really like my hand. I really don't have any phobia for Rings, if you know what I mean, but jewels make me both uncomfortable an intrigued. I get the urge to grab those sparkly little trinkets and whisk them off to the Sons of Feanor, or better yet, keep them for myself. There's actually a very funny story I could tell, but it would take to long, and make too little sense out of context...

There are probably more "connections," but I've named my top three. Others will be expunged in the event that I feel a sudden, unquellable need to get nostalgic.

[Encaitare]

-Whenever nature seems just beyond my grasp. When I am in the car going down a highway and there is a tangled bit of woods along the side of the road, I have this indescribable longing to go tramp among the trees, away from all the cars whizzing by.

(making Winston Churchill sound like Treebeard is definately not something to be proud of).

"Weeeeee shaaaaall fiiiiiiight on the .... beaaaachessss, weeeee shaaaall fiiiiight on the laaannnding grounnnnds ..... weeee shaaall fiiiiight in the fiiiiiiields and in the streeeeeeets, weeee shaaaall fiiiiiiight ... in the 'a-lalla-lalla-rumba-kamanda-lindor-burume's" -- or as we prefer to say, "hills"

[Morai]

Politics always remind me of the conflicts in middle Earth. When I think of the fight between enviromentalists and industrialists, I am reminded of Elves and the dwarves.

I see a unusally short person with curly hair and I almost believe that I am seeing a hobbit with shoes, until I remind myself that I probably wouldn't see one in a supermarket full of the race of man.

[Bêthberry]

The pretty leaves of Lothlorien were but pretty leaves for me, until...

I stood at a kitchen sink and looked out the window one grey pewter day in November. I was waiting for the inescapable and inevitable to happen, the death of someone dear to me. And it was to come soon, four days later. And I was visiting one last time but one my childhood home, which I could never then visit again.

As I looked out I saw the white, peeling bark of a silver birch tree, with golden oranges leaves, dead but still hanging on the branches, limbs and twigs, fluttering forlornly in the breeze. They would not fall until spring. I had never recognised that about this tree, but it had happened year in and year out. The leaves turned colour in the autumn but did not fall until spring.

I realised how very closely Tolkien observed the natural world, that he could take a specific characteristic of a real species of tree and give to it the characteristics of faerie. Lothlorien called to me then as it never had before.

[piosenniel]

* Unfolding a map, tracing a route to some destination, setting out in truth or in dreams . . .

Road maps from Bilbo's desk

Physical maps from Dwarven holds

Topographic maps from the Rangers' hidden fastness

Political maps from Denethor's hidden chamber in the White Tower

And from the library at Rivendell, orthophoto maps that capture everything in detail, freezing it in time