AUTHOR'S NOTES -
CHAPTER 33: GROWTH AND RENEWAL
Now, for my part, cherry blossom was everywhere when my daughter was born, and I love to see the clouds of blossom in tuilë.
The Return of the King, Appendix D: “...but the hobbits only provide information on the Calendar of Imladris. In that calendar there were six of these ‘seasons’, of which the Quenya names were tuilë, lairë, yávië, quellë, hrívë, coirë which may be translated ‘spring, summer, autumn, fading, winter, stirring’.”
I have left tuilë untranslated as spring, since it does not completely correspond to our spring.
‘I can give you guidance if you wish,’ said Ninquelótë, ‘but now we must go and visit the site for the new garden, or we will not be finished by star-opening.
The Return of the King, Appendix D: “The Eldar paid special attention to the ‘twilight’ in the northerly regions), chiefly as the time of star-fading and star-opening.”
‘The very finest white sandstone is from an underground quarry. They tunnel through it. It is a warren, not for the unwary, but they must know about delving.’
This is modelled on Quarry Caves in Beer, Dorset. Ninety acres of vast underground workings have been mined since Roman Times, and fascinating tours are available if you are in the area. It really is a warren, and the guides warn visitors not to wander off - it might take them days to be found.
“They carved out the courses for the waterfall with ease, and seemed to regard rock as a living entity, with the slow pulse of millennia. They talked to him of working with the rock and not fighting it, of finding its inner form and releasing it. Frodo was fascinated...”
“‘It is not harming the stone,’ they explained. ‘It will work with you, if you strike it right. It is the nature of stone to change. It will yield to sympathy, but treat it without thought, and it will change from soft and malleable to hard and truculent in a moment...’”
“He was shown how to breathe, letting the natural rhythm between inward and outward breath be mirrored in the swing of the hammer against chisel. He was shown how to follow the line of least resistance in the stone, and how to lift with little effort. As he worked, he felt the impact of the blows send waves of strength up his arms to his shoulders, his torso and down through his legs into his widely planted feet.”
More plagiarism here, this time from a biographical novel about Michelangelo: The Agony and the Ecstasy by Irving Stone.
‘How does your burrowing go, my dear holbytla?’
The Return of the King, The Muster of Rohan: “[Merry] was wakened by a man shaking him. ‘Wake up, wake up, Master Holbytla!’ he cried...”
The Return of the King, Appendix F: “The origin of the word hobbit was by most forgotten. It seems, however, to have been at first a name given to the Harfoots by the Fallohides and Stoors, and to be a worn-down form of a word preserved more fully in Rohan: holbytla ‘hole-builder’”.
Moreover, it was a good day when the sea-hounds decided to join him, and that was enough to restore a mood of optimism.
I once visited a Zeehonden creche (seal sanctuary) in Holland, and was struck by the aptness of the word Zeehonden (literally “sea hound”) for seal. There are a lot of seals near where I live, and they are very inquisitive about swimmers, bobbing up to have a look.
He remembered the light of Eärendil that had travelled with them into the darkest places, only defeated, as he had been, in the heart of the enemy’s stronghold. Even as he had been! The thought had not come to him before. At the heart of Sauron’s realm, all other powers were subdued. All other. His frail-held power to resist the Ring had failed, just as the light of the star-glass had failed when Sam entered that place of darkness.
The Return of the King, Mount Doom: “At first [Sam] could see nothing. In his great need he drew out once more the phial of Galdriel, but it was pale and cold in his trembling hand and threw no light into that stiffling dark. He was come to the heart of the realm of Sauron and the forges of his ancient might, greatest in Middle-earth; all other powers were subdued...”
The air behind Gandalf seemed to waver in the starlight, and there was a tall lady standing behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder. She looked upon Frodo, grave and beautiful, and he was full of fear, and yet... and yet, he was not afraid. It was like the fear of the crashing storm or blazing lightning that might sweep you away, and yet you were lost in the wonder of it, knowing that should you perish, it was not by the will of the elements, but by your own folly for facing them.
Small child of Ilúvatar, have pity on my faithful servant Olórin.
Frodo blinked, and there was only the silvered trunks of the birch, and over them the dark shadows of pines. On the night breeze there was the faintest echo of a lament. He realised he was trembling.
‘Gandalf?’
Gandalf closed his eyes and sighed. ‘Nienna,’ he said quietly. ’From her I learnt patience and pity. She brings strength to the spirit and turns sorrow to wisdom.’
The Silmarillion, Valaquenta: “Mighter than Estë is Nienna, sister of Fëanturi; she dwells alone. She is acquainted with grief, and mourns for every wound that Arda has suffered since in the marring of Melkor. So great was her sorrow, as the music unfolded, that her song turned to lamentation long before its end, and the sound of mourning was woven into the themes of the world before it began. But she does not weep for herself; and those who hearken to her learn pity and endurance in hope... She goes rather to the halls of Mandos, which are near to her own; and all those who wait in Mandos cry to her, for she brings strength to the spirit and turns sorrow to wisdom.”
The Silmarillion, Valaquenta: “Wisest of the Maiar was Olórin. He too dwelt in Lórien, but his ways took him often to the house of Nienna, and of her he learned pity and patience.”
The Two Towers, The Window on the West: “‘Mithrandir we called him in elf-fashion,’ said Faramir, ‘and he was content. Many are my names in many countries, he said. Mithrandir among the Elves, Tharkûn to the Dwarves, Olórin was I in my youth in the West that is forgotten, in the South Icánus, in the North Gandalf; to the east I go not.”’
Hantanyel, Tura.
Thank you, Master.