Today in Middle Earth History...

[vizual-demon]

Christopher Tolkien (1924 - 2020)

Fans of J.R.R. Tolkien, Middle Earth, and fantasy literature in general, have so much to thank this man for. He worked for decades to secure his father’s legacy, editing and publishing J.R.R.’s unfinished works after his death in 1973, giving us The Silmarillion, Unfinished Tales, The History of Middle Earth and more. His work, like his father’s, will live on forever.

[todayinmiddleearth]

For a long while I assumed this blog was managed by a bot, but now that I know it's a human I have to commend your good work. :)

Thank you! Man, I wish I had had the know-how to program a bot to do all this for me. It would’ve saved me a bunch of time.

[eggsareamazing]

[thatmattattack]

#happy international women’s day!!

[todayinmiddleearth]

You're the only blog I've ever hit the "notify me when this person posts" button.

Oh my gosh! I actually put my hand over my mouth and gasped when I read this. This is such a lovely message! I’ll cherish it forever and probably print it out and tape it to my wall.

[todayinmiddleearth]

I'm sad to see you go! You were one of the first blogs I followed and it's been super cool to have you around. Thank you so much for all your work and dedication. :)

You’re too kind! But don’t be sad! I’ll still be here, just sneakier. :)

[todayinmiddleearth]

I read a great number of Tolkien's book and what you did in this year is a very good job. I like Very much your Blog and I make you my compliments!!

Thanks so much!! It’s very nice to know my work is appreciated. :)

[todayinmiddleearth]

Full Circle

One year ago today I posted the very first “Today in Middle Earth,” which received a whopping five notes. Now, with the death of Boromir yesterday, I have completed what I set out to do: provide an easy, quick route to learning the history of Middle Earth and, especially, the chronology of events in The Lord of the Rings.

This blog was born of the coupling of two of my greatest loves: Tolkien’s writings and the study of history. One year (and a day or so) ago I came upon this tumblr post and I realized that our calendar is very different from the Shire calendar. This doesn’t seem groundbreaking, but as I looked around at different sources for the history of Middle Earth, they all seemed to only give the Shire date as if it was the same as our own. I wanted to know exactly what day these events had taken place, and these other sources weren’t giving it to me. In real life, the focus of my studies is the period of time around the American Revolution, including the colonial period immediately preceding it. As such, I am no stranger to the (often frustrating) task of dealing with conversions between two different calendars (the British Empire didn’t adopt the Gregorian calendar until 1752). Study of Tolkien’s works seems to be the only place where people didn’t convert to our calendar; after all, we celebrate George Washington’s birthday on February 22 even though he was born February 11 on the Julian calendar. I wanted to know, among other things, exactly what day Bilbo and Frodo Baggins were born, on the Gregorian calendar, because that’s when we should celebrate it.

So I created this blog.

And I learned that their birthday is September 13.

Not everyone has seemed to approve of my style of doing it. That is, the conversion from Shire to Gregorian. But, I thought to myself, it’s my blog! And the numbers are accurate -- most of the dates come straight from Appendix B, and the Shire calendar is explained in great detail by Tolkien. So I ran with it and the rest is... well, history.

This isn’t really farewell. If there’s ever a discovery of more of Tolkien’s writings that includes dates of events we didn’t already know about, I’ll be sure to add them. Or if I come across a date that somehow wasn’t in any of the sources that I referenced, I’ll add that too. But, for now, this blog is finished. There won’t be any more posts, unless I receive any asks. And you can still ask questions! I’ll still be here tending to my own personal blog, so I’ll see any asks/messages you send and I will respond. Feel free to ask any Tolkien-related question, or even a personal question if you really want to (I probably won’t reply to those publicly, though).

I’d like to thank all of my followers (exactly 3,600 at the time of posting!) for giving this blog purpose, the Encyclopedia of Arda and Tolkien Gateway for giving this blog content, and especially J.R.R. Tolkien for creating such an elaborate and imaginative world that I have both the interest in and the ability to make this blog.

[todayinmiddleearth]

“Even as he gazed his quick ears caught sounds in the woodlands below, on the west side of the River. He stiffened. There were cries, and among them, to his horror, he could distinguish the harsh voices of orcs. Then suddenly with a deep-throated call a great horn blew, and the blasts of it smote the hills and echoed in the hollows, rising in a mighty shout above the roaring of the falls.

‘The horn of Boromir!’ he cried. ‘He is in need!’ He sprang down the steps and away, leaping down the path. ‘Alas! An ill fate is on me this day, and all that I do goes amiss. Where is Sam?’

As he ran the cries came louder, but fainter now and desperately the horn was blowing. Fierce and shrill rose the yells of the Orcs, and suddenly the horn-calls ceased. Aragorn raced down the last slope, but before he could reach the hill’s foot, the sounds died away; and as he turned to the left and ran towards them they retreated, until at last he could hear them no more. Drawing his bright sword and crying Elendil! Elendil! he crashed through the trees.

A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting. But Aragorn saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hilts; his hown cloven in two was at his side. Many Orcs lay slain, piled all about him and at his feet.

Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ he said. ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’ His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay there. ‘They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them.’ He paused and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again.

‘Farewell, Aragorn!’ Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed.’

‘No!’ said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. ‘You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!’

Boromir smiled.

‘Which way did they go? Was Frodo there?’ said Aragorn.

But Boromir did not speak again.”

(The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter I: The Departure of Boromir)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“Frodo peering forward saw in the distance two great rocks approaching: like great pinnacles or pillars of stone they seemed. Tall and sheer and ominous they stood upon either side of the stream. A narrow gap appeared between them, and the River swept the boats towards it.

‘Behold the Argonath, the Pillars of the Kings!’ cried Aragorn. ‘We shall pass them soon. Keep the boats in line, and as far apart as you can! Hold the middle of the stream!’

As Frodo was borne towards them the great pillars rose like towers to meet him. Giants they seemed to him, vast grey figures silent but threatening. Then he saw that they were indeed shaped and fashioned: the craft and power of old had wrought upon them, and still they preserved through the suns and rains of forgotten years the might likenesses in which they had been hewn. Upon great pedestals founded in the deep waters stood two great kings of stone: still with blurred eyes and crannied brows they frowned upon the North. The left hand of each was raised palm outwards in gesture of warning; in each right hand there was an axe; upon each head there was a crumbling helm and crown. Great power and majesty they still wore, the silent wardens of a long-vanished kingdom. Awe and fear fell upon Frodo, and he cowered down, shutting his eyes and not daring to look up as the boat drew near. Even Boromir bowed his head as the boats whirled by, frail and fleeting as little leaves, under the enduring shadow of the sentinels of Númenor. So they passed into the dark chasm of the Gates.”

(The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter IX: The Great River)

“As soon as the enemy has gained possession of the eastern end of the Fords there appeared a company of men or Orc-men (evidently dispatched for the purpose), ferocious, mail-clad and armed with axes. They hastened to the eyot and assailed it from both sides. At the same time Grimbold on the west bank was attacked by Saruman’s forces on that side of the Isen. As he looked eastward, dismayed by the sounds of bttle and the hideous Orc-cries of victory, he saw the axe-men driving Théodred’s men from the shores of the eyot towards the low knoll in its centre, and he heard Théodred’s great voice cying To me, Eorlingas! At once Grimbold, taking a few men that stood near him, ran back to the eyot. So fierce was his onset from the rear of the attackers that Grimbold, a man of great strength and stature, clove his way through, till with two others he reached Théodred standing at bay on the knoll. Too late. As he came to his side Théodred fell, hewn down by a great Orc-man. Grimbold slew him and stood over the body of Théodred, thinking him dead; and there he would himself soon have died, but for the coming of Elfhelm.

. . .

They stooped to lift the body, and found that Théodred still breathed; but he lived only long enough to speak his last words: Let me lie here---to keep the Fords till Éomer comes! Night fell. A harsh horn sounded, and then all was silent. The attack on the west bank ceased, and the enemy there faded away into the dark. The Rohirrim held the Fords of Isen; but their losses were heavy, not least in horses; the King’s son was dead, and they were leaderless, and did not know what might yet befall.”

(Unfinished Tales, Part Three, Chapter V: The Battles of the Fords of Isen)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“Frodo looked up at the Elf standing tall above him, as he gazed into the night, seeking a mark to shoot at. His head was dark, crowned with sharp white stars that glittered in the black pools of the sky behind. But now rising and sailing up from the South the great clouds advanced, sending out dark outriders into the starry fields. A sudden dread fell on the Company.

‘Elbereth Gilthoniel!‘ sighed Legolas as he looked up. Even as he did so, a dark shape, like a cloud and yet not a cloud, for it moved far more swiftly, came out of the blackness in the South, and sped towards the Company, blotting out all light as it approached. Soon it appeared as a great winged creature, blacker than the pits in the night. Fierce voices rose up to greet it from across the water. Frodo felt a sudden chill running through him and clutching at his heart; there was a deadly cold, like the memory of an old wound, in his shoulder. He crouched down, as if to hide.

Suddenly the great bow of Lórien sang. Shrill went the arrow from the elven-string. Frodo looked up. Almost above him the winged shape swerved. There was a harsh croaking scream, as it fell out of the air, vanishing down into the gloom of the eastern shore. The sky was clean again. There was a tumult of many voices far away, cursing and wailing in the darkness, and then silence. Neither shaft nor cry came again from the east that night.”

(The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter IX: The Great River)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“And so at the last Gwaihir the Windlord found me again, and he took me up and bore me away.

‘Ever am I fated to be your burden, friend at need,” I said.

‘A burden you have been,’ he answered, ‘but not so now. Light as a swan’s feather in my claw you are. The Sun shines through you. Indeed I do not think you need me any more: were I to let you fall, you would float upon the wind.’

‘Do not let me fall!’ I gasped, for I felt life in my again. ‘Bear me to Lothlórien!’

‘That indeed is the command of the Lady Galadriel who sent me to look for you,’ he answered.

Thus it was that I came to Caras Galadon and found you but lately gone. I tarried there in the ageless time of that land where days bring healing not decay. Healing I found, and I was clothed in white. Counsel I gave and counsel took. Thence by strange roads I cam, and messages I bring to some of you.”

(The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter V: The White Rider)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“Now the Lady arose, and Celeborn led them back to the hythe. A yellow noon lay on the green land of the Tongue, and the water glittered with silver. All at last was made ready. The Company took their places in the boats as before. Crying farewell, the Elves of Lórien with long grey poles thrust them out into the flowing stream, and the rippling waters bore them slowly away. The travellers sat still without moving or speaking. On the green bank near to the very point of the Tongue the Lady Galadriel stood alone and silent. As they passed her they turned and their eyes watched her slowly floating away from them. For so it seemed to them: Lórien was slipping backward, like a bright ship masted with enchanted trees, sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of the grey and leafless world.”

(The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter VIII: Farewell to Lórien)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“‘And you?’ she said, turning to Sam. ‘For this is what your folk would call magic, I believe; though I do not understand clearly what they mean; and they seem also to use the same word of the deceits of the Enemy. But this, if you will, is the magic of Galadriel. Did you not say that you wished to see Elf-magic?’

‘I did,’ said Sam, trembling a little between fear and curiosity. ‘I’ll have a peep, Lady, if you’re willing.’

‘And I’d not mind a glimpse of what’s going on at home,’ he said in an aside to Frodo. ‘It seems a terrible long time that I’ve been away. But there, like as not I’ll only see the stars, or something that I won’t understand.’

‘Like as not,’ said the Lady with a gentle laugh. ‘But come, you shall look and see what you may. Do not touch the water!’

Sam climbed up on the foot of the pedestal and leaned over the basin. The water looked hard and dark. Stars were reflected in it.

‘There’s only stars, as I thought,’ he said. Then he gave a low gasp, for the stars went out. As if a dark veil has been withdrawn, the Mirror grew grey, and then clear. There was sun shining, and the branches of trees were waving and tossing in the wind. But before Sam could make up his mind what it was that he saw, the light faded; and now he thought he saw Frodo with a pale face lying fast asleep under a great dark cliff. Then he seemed to see himself going along a dim passage, and climbing an endless winding stair. It came to him suddenly that he was looking urgently for something, but what it was he did not know. Like a dream the vision shifted and went back, and he saw the trees again. But this time they were not so close, and he could see what was going on: they were not waving in the wind, they were falling, crashing to the ground.”

(The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter VII: The Mirror of Galadriel)

“’Naked I was sent back--for a brief time, until my task is done. And naked I lay upon the mountain-top. The tower behind was crumbled into dust, the window gone; the ruined stair was choked with burned and broken stone. I was alone, forgotten, without escape upon the hard horn of the world. There I lay staring upward, while the stars wheeled over, and each day was as long as a life-age of the earth. Faint to my ears came the gathered rumour of all lands: the springing and the dying, the song and the weeping, and the slow everlasting groan of overburdened stone.”

(The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter V: The White Rider)

[todayinmiddleearth]

(The Return of the King, Appendix B, The Third Age)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“’There upon Celebdil was a lonely window in the snow, and before it lay a narrow space, a dizzy eyrie above the mists of the world. The sun shone fiercely there, but all below was wrapped in cloud. Out he sprang, and even as I came behind, he burst into new flame. There was none to see, or perhaps in after ages songs would still be sung of the Battle of the Peak.’ Suddenly Gandalf laughed. ‘But what would they say in son? Those that looked up from afar thought that the mountain was crowned with storm. Thunder they heard, and lightning, they said, smote upon Celebdil, and leaped back broken into tongues of fire. Is not that enough? A great smoke rose about up, vapour and steam. Ice fell like rain. I threw down my enemy, and he fell from the high place and broke the mountain-side where he smote it in his ruin. Then darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time, and I wandered far on roads that I will not tell.’”

(The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter V: The White Rider)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“’We fought far under the living earth, where time is not counted. Ever he clutched me, and ever I hewed him, till at last he fled into dark tunnels. They were not made by Durin’s folk, Gimli son of Glóin. Far, far below the deepest delvings of the Dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless things. Even Sauron knows them not. They are older than he. Now I have walked there, but I will bring no report to darken the light of day. In that despair my enemy was my only hope, and I pursued him, clutching at his heel. Thus he brought me back at last to the secret ways of Khazad-dûm: too well he knew them all. Ever up now we went, until we came to the Endless Stair.’

‘Long has that been lost,’ said Gimli. ‘Many have said that it was never made save in legend, but others say that it was destroyed.’

‘It was made, and it had not been destroyed,’ said Gandalf. ‘From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak it climbed, ascending in unbroken spiral in many thousand steps, until it issued at last in Durin’s Tower carved in the living rock of Zirakzigil, the pinnacle of the Silvertine.’”

(The Two Towers, Book Three, Chapter V: The White Rider)

[todayinmiddleearth]

“The chamber was filled with a soft light; its walls were green and silver and its roofs of gold. Many elves were seated there. On two chairs beneath the bole of the tree and canopied by a living bough there sat, side by side, Celeborn and Galadriel. They stood up to greet their guests, after the manner of Elves, even though who were accounted mighty kings. Very tall they were, and the Lady no less tall than the Lord; and they were grave and beautiful. They were clad wholly in white; and the hair of the Lady was of deep gold, and the hair of the Lord Celeborn was of silver long and bright; but no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.

Haldir led Frodo before them, and the Lord welcomed him in his own tongue. The Lady Galadriel said no word but looked long upon his face.

‘Sit now beside my chair, Frodo of the Shire!’ said Celeborn. ‘When all have come we will speak together.’

Each of the companions he greeted courteously by name as they entered. ‘Welcome Aragorn son of Arathorn!’ he said. ‘It is eight and thirty years of the world outside since you came to this land; and those years lie heavy on you. But the end is near, for good or ill. Here lay aside your burden for a while!’

‘Welcome son of Thranduil! Too seldom do my kindred journey hither from the North.’

‘Welcome Gimli son of Glóin! It is long indeed since we saw one of Durin’s folk in Caras Galadon. But today we have broken our long law. May it be a sign that though the would is now dark better days are at hand, and that friendship shall be renewed between our peoples.’ Gimli bowed low.”

(The Fellowship of the Ring, Book Two, Chapter VII: The Mirror of Galadriel)