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Lúthien Unbound?

In his introduction to the Lay of Leithian in The Lays of Beleriand, Christopher Tolkien writes: 

My father never explained the name Leithian 'Release from Bondage', and we are left to choose, if we will, among various applications that can be seen in the poem. Nor did he leave any comment on the significance - if there is a significance - of the likeness of Leithian to Leithien 'England'. In the tale of Ælfwine of England the Elvish name of England is Lúthien (which was earlier the name of Ælfwine himself, England being Luthany), but at the first occurrence (only) of this name the word Leithian was pencilled above it (II. 330, note 20). In the 'Sketch of the Mythology' England was still Lúthien (and at that time Thingol's daughter was also Lúthien), but this was emended to Leithien, and this is the form in the 1930 version of 'The Silmarillion'. I cannot say (i) what connection if any there was between the two significances of Lúthien, nor (ii) whether Leithien (once Leithian) 'England' is or was related to Leithian 'Release from Bondage'. The only evidence of an etymological nature that I have found is a hasty note, impossible to date, which refers to the stem leth- 'set free', with leithia 'release', and compares Lay of Leithian.

(Lays 188-89)

In September of 1978 I was a freshman at NYU taking my first class in Ancient Greek. One of the first verbs a student becomes acquainted with is the verb λύω/lúo. It's a common verb, meaning "set free, release, undo, let loose," and it is very regular in the way it's conjugated. There's nothing exceptional or odd about it. So it's a good verb to practice with. Now in English verbs have three principal parts, that is, forms which allow you to make all the other forms. So "sing, sang, sung" or "walk, walked, walked" supply the building blocks. In Greek regular verbs commonly have six principal parts, and there's a discernible pattern to them which makes learning them easier. The principal parts of λύω are λύω, λύσω, ἔλυσα, λέλυκα, λέλυμαι, ἐλύθην/lúo, lúso, élusa, léluka, lélumai, elúthēn. 

Did that last principal part--ἐλύθην/elúthēn--catch your eye? Or maybe your ear? Because it sure caught mine 46 years ago. The Silmarillion had come out a year before and I was reading The Lord of the Rings two or three times a year at that point. So the combination of form and meaning-- a standard translation of ἐλύθην/elúthēn would be "I was set free" or "I was released"--fairly leaped off the page at me. All I could think of was Lúthien and the long poem about her and Beren called The Lay of Leithian and that leithian means "release from bondage."* λύω is the verb you use if you are talking about freeing slaves or prisoners.

I asked my Greek teacher about ἐλύθην/elúthēn after class. Her name was Stephanie and she was probably the best teacher I ever had. She was so good at making things clear, at correcting you without making you feel like an idiot, and she so obviously loved teaching Ancient Greek. I know how she felt. It was later my favorite course to teach as well, but I didn't do it anywhere near as well as she did. In any event in 1978 Tolkien was still largely looked down on in academic circles. As I recall, she said she supposed a connection between this verb and the words Lúthien and leithian was possible, but I could also tell she wasn't really keen on having a prolonged discussion about it.  

As we worked our way through the truly immense verbal system of Ancient Greek, we learned more and more forms of this and other verbs. When we came to the form λυθεῖεν, once again my eye was caught because this form can be transliterated in several ways, that is, we can change the word letter by letter from the Greek alphabet into our own. The Greek letter upsilon, |υ|, is commonly represented in English with |y|, as in analysis for the Greek ἀνάλυσις -- and yes, that derives ultimately from the same root. But as the English spelling upsilon attests, |υ| is not always represented by |y|. The diphthong |ει| -- pronounced like |ay| in day in Attic Greek (think Plato) or |ee| in Koine Greek (think the Gospels) -- can be transliterated as |ei| or |i|. So λυθεῖεν could be transliterated lytheien, lythien, lutheien, or luthien. As we can see, Lúthien sounds like it could have its origin here. 

How should λυθεῖεν be translated? By form it is the third person plural aorist optative passive. The aorist tense often refers to past time, like a simple past, but not necessarily. It can also refer to something that happens suddenly. So, for example, the form ἐδάκρυσε/edakruse can mean "he wept" but is often better taken as "he burst into tears." And what's the optative? It's like the subjunctive, only more so. It doesn't refer to facts but to possibilities, intentions, hopes, and fears, to things that have not yet become real and may never become real. So λυθεῖεν by itself could be translated as a wish: "May they be set free" or "I wish that they be set free." Which of course would be a very significant name for a character like Lúthien, who comes by this name as Tolkien makes her more powerful and able to release or set free from bondage more things and people. As Clare Moore has shown in her article on Lúthien in Mallorn 62 (2021), with each successive version of her tale, Lúthien's power and importance grow.

Tolkien was keen on the sound of words. He specifically cited Ancient Greek as a tongue that gave him "'phonaesthetic' pleasure" (Letters #144 p. 265).** It may have been hard to resist the combination of sound and meaning to be found in Lúthien.

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I hope that the list I've created below helps to clarify the name changes Christopher Tolkien refers to in the quoted passage to start this post. I use > to indicate "becomes" or "changes into"

1. The Tale of Tinúviel in The Book of Lost Tales, vol. II (1917-18)

• The daughter of Thingol and Melian is named Tinúviel, and never called Lúthien. 

2. Ælfwine of England in The Book of Lost Tales, vol. II (1917-1918)

• Lúthien = Ælfwine > Ælfwine = Ælfwine 
• Luthany*** = England > Lúthien = England ("Leithian" pencilled above 1st use of Lúthien for England)

3. The Lay of the Children of Húrin in The Lays of Beleriand (1918-1925)

• The daughter of Thingol and Melian is named Lúthien. Beren, not knowing her name, calls her  Tinúviel.

4. The Lay of Leithian in The Lays of Beleriand (1925-1931)

• The daughter of Thingol and Melian is named Lúthien. Beren, not knowing her name, calls her  Tinúviel.

4. The Sketch of the Mythology (1926) in The Shaping of Middle-earth.

• Lúthien = Lúthien, daughter of Thingol and Melian
• Lúthien = England > Leithien = England

5. Quenta Noldorinwa (the 1930 Silmarillion) in The Shaping of Middle-earth.

• Lúthien = Lúthien, daughter of Thingol and Melian
• Leithien (Leithian 1x) = England

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*Yes, I know that we only had very small snippets of the Lay at that time, but we knew that within Middle-earth at least such a poem existed and what it was called.

** John R. Holmes has suggested that Tolkien coined the word "phonaesthetic," either in the cited letter or at around the same time ("'Inside a Song': Tolkien's Phonaesthetics," in B. L. Eden, Middle-earth Minstrel: Essays on Music in Tolkien 2010 p. 30). While Tolkien clearly could have coined such a word, the word already existed thanks to the linguist J. R. Firth, who appears to have coined it in his 1930 book Speech (Oxford University Press, p. 52). The word also appears in a 1950 article in the journal Essays and Studies. Tolkien knew the journal if not the article. His Homercoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son first appeared there in 1953, plus he owned a couple of issues of the journal from previous years (See Oronzo Cilli, Tolkien's Library, 103, 367). A google ngram search shows that the word suddenly came into much wider use (among linguists, that is) in the late 1940s and peaked in the 1970s.

*** 'Luthany' seems to come from a poem called "The Mistress of Vision," written by Francis Thompson, a poet of whom Tolkien was quite fond:

The Lady of fair weeping,
      At the garden’s core,
      Sang a song of sweet and sore
      And the after-sleeping;
In the land of Luthany, and the tracts of Elenore.

It's interesting to learn -- thanks to Andrew Higgins's paper, 'O World Invisible We View Thee' The Syncretic Nature of Francis Thompson's Visionary Poems,' which is available here -- that in 1968 George Carter suggested in an unpublished PhD dissertation that Carter suggested that "Thompson constructed 'Luthany' by anglicizing the Ancient Greek aorist passive infinitive of 'luo' – 'luthenai', which means 'to be broken' (Carter 1968, p. 62)."

In translating λυθῆναι/luthēnai as 'to be broken' Carter is thinking of another line in Thompson's poem -- "Pass the gates of Luthany" -- and arguing that this means "Pass the gates when they are broken." In the absence of other evidence, this translation and interpretation seem quite forced. "Unlocked" or "open" seem more plausible translations. λύω can be used of opening doors or gates, but, as far as I can tell, not of breaking them. I can see the resemblance between the English and the Greek here, but not more than that. 

The Repentance of Angels: a Curious Departure in Tolkien

In the Ainulindalë Melkor chooses to follow his own will rather than the design of Ilúvatar and to usurp the act of creation (S 16-17). It's noteworthy here that in response Ilúvatar does not cast Melkor out, but tries to explain to him why he is unable to create independently and the harm that his attempt to do so has caused for the created world. Ilúvatar even allows Melkor to go down into the world on the pretext (advanced by Melkor) that he will work to repair the harm he has done. It seems entirely clear that Melkor could have repented in truth as he pretended to do. This is true from the very beginning, appearing in The Book of Lost Tales (LT I 53-55, 57). We later see Aulë make a similar mistake in fashioning the Dwarves, but he is humble and repents when Ilúvatar speaks to him about it (S 43-44). Later still, even after all the evils he had committed in the First Age, repentance and a return to the fold was open even to Sauron (S 285).

Now Tolkien often compared the Valar and Maiar to the angels which are a part of the Christian religion. In the early days of the legendarium he even described them as gods. In The Book of Lost Tales I & II, for example, he refers to them in this way 319 times--yes, I counted*--which leads to a revealing contrast with his practice in his letters, where he almost always puts the word in quotations marks, 'gods,' or qualifies it with another word, 'roughly,' or phrase 'if you will.' Calling them 'gods' and likening them to angels often occur in the same letters and about the same number of times ('gods' 19; 'angels/angelic' etc. 20). When doing so Tolkien is being careful to make clear to readers not named Tolkien or Lewis that they are not really gods, but only gods so to speak. They occupy the mythological, not theological, place of gods (cf. Letters² #212 p. 405). So calling them 'gods' is also implicitly a comparison.

Just how much of a comparison it is we can see from how great a departure Tolkien is making from Christian doctrine with the Valar and Maiar. For it has long been doctrine that the fallen angels cannot repent, as Melkor pretends to do, Sauron almost does, and as Aulë succeeds in doing. The seeming glance to the West that the spirit of Saruman takes immediately after death shows that he believed repentance for him might be possible (RK 6.viii.1020). Being both fallen and dead, Saruman's answer is blowing in the wind.

In discussing fallen angels Saint Thomas Aquinas quotes Saint John Damascene to help make his point. Aquinas's quotation in the Summa Theologiae includes only the first of the two sentences below (ST 1 64.2). A fuller quotation of Saint John Damascene's De Fide Orthodoxa is illustrative (II.4):

“…hoc est hominibus mors, quod angelis casus. Post casum enim non est eis paenitentia, quemadmodum neque hominibus post mortem.”

Or, if your Latin's rusty: 

“…death is to men what the fall is to angels. For after their fall there is no repentance for them, just as there is none for men after death.” 

Aquinas says further that the fall of the angels happened not because they desired evil per se, but because they desired a good inordinately, thus placing their own will before God's (ST 1 63.1 ad 4): "et hoc modo angelus peccavit, convertendo se per liberum arbitrium ad proprium bonum, absque ordine ad regulam divinae voluntatis." "And in this manner the angel fell, by turning himself to a good of his own [which was determined] by his own free will, and out of order with the rule established by God's will."

Lucifer is presumably "the angel" Aquinas refers to here. So, too, Melkor desired to create things of his own according to his own design (S 16).

While Tolkien is clearly, obviously, and by his own admission, a very religious man whose faith and worldview play a great part in the way he shaped his legendarium, here is an instance where we can see that his mythology is not simply a reproduction of his theology. Just as making the Elves immortal and able to reincarnate allows him to examine human concerns about life and death in ways not possible otherwise, allowing for repentance among the "angels"  affords still other possibilities that deserve to be noted and explored.

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*I count only instances in the text of The Book of Lost Tales I & II, or times when Christopher Tolkien quotes a different draft of his father's work. I do not count Christopher's own use of 'gods' in the notes and commentary; 'gods' in the notes and commentary that reproduces what has already been counted in the text; 'gods' when quoted from later works; or any of the front or back matter of The Book of Lost Tales 

Prophecy, Hope, Despair, and Sorrow in "The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen."

Recently I have been reading Johm F. Whitmire Jr.'s interesting article, "An Archaeology of Hope and Despair in the Tale of Aragorn and Arwen," in the 2023 issue of Tolkien Studies (vol. XX pp. 59-76). I recommend its thoughtful analysis of the evolution of the Tale over several versions, which are published in The Peoples of Middle-earth (HoMe XII pp. 262-270). The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen is a favorite of mine in any case, and so I enjoyed the opportunity to read it again.

This time through I caught something I had not noticed before. Only six characters play a direct part in the action--others are mentioned--and only these six charactersspeak: Dírhael and Ivorwen, the parents of Gilraen, Aragorn's mother, Elrond, Arwen Undómiel, and Aragorn himself. What I find remarkable is that every one of these six speaking characters displays some degree of accurate prophetic foresight into the fates of the Dúnedain and the heirs of Isildur. 

1. Dírhael correctly foresees that Arathorn, Aragorn's father, will soon succeed his father, Arador, and perish himself not long after. For these reasons in particular, he opposed the betrothal of Gilraen to Arathorn.
2. Ivorwen correctly foresees that Arathorn and Gilraen must marry soon then. "If these two wed now, hope may be born for our people; but if they delay, it will not come while this age lasts.”
3. Gilraen gives Aragorn the name Estel (Hope) when his father is killed. Years later she will say that she had given Hope to her people, but kept none for herself.
4. Elrond foretells to Aragorn, when he reveals his true name to him, "that the span of your life shall be greater than the measure of Men, unless evil befalls you or you fail at the test. But the test will be hard and long. The Sceptre of Annúminas I withhold, for you have yet to earn it.”
5. When Aragorn first meets Arwen and calls her Tinúviel, she says "maybe my doom will be not unlike hers."
6. When Gilraen learns that Aragorn has fallen in love with Arwen, she tells him that Elrond will oppose marriage between them. Aragorn replies: "Then bitter will be my days, and I will walk in the wild alone." 
7. ‘“That will indeed be your fate,” said Gilraen; but though she had in a measure the foresight of her people, she said no more to him of her foreboding, nor did she speak to anyone of what her son had told her.
8. Elrond responds as Gilraen predicted and prophesies in turn: “Aragorn, Arathorn’s son, Lord of the Dúnedain, listen to me! A great doom awaits you, either to rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin. Many years of trial lie before you. You shall neither have wife, nor bind any woman to you in troth, until your time comes and you are found worthy of it.”
9. ‘“I see,” said Aragorn, “that I have turned my eyes to a treasure no less dear than the treasure of Thingol that Beren once desired. Such is my fate.” Then suddenly the foresight of his kindred came to him, and he said: “But lo! Master Elrond, the years of your abiding run short at last, and the choice must soon be laid on your children, to part either with you or with Middle-earth.”
10. The next time Aragorn sees Arwen many years later: "And thus it was that Arwen first beheld him again after their long parting; and as he came walking towards her under the trees of Caras Galadhon laden with flowers of gold, her choice was made and her doom appointed."
11. ‘And Arwen said: “Dark is the Shadow, and yet my heart rejoices; for you, Estel, shall be among the great whose valour will destroy it.”  ‘But Aragorn answered: “Alas! I cannot foresee it, and how it may come to pass is hidden from me. Yet with your hope I will hope."
12. ‘When Elrond learned the choice of his daughter, he was silent, though his heart was grieved and found the doom long feared none the easier to endure.' 
13. ‘“My son, years come when hope will fade, and beyond them little is clear to me. And now a shadow lies between us. Maybe, it has been appointed so, that by my loss the kingship of Men may be restored. Therefore, though I love you, I say to you: Arwen Undómiel shall not diminish her life’s grace for less cause. She shall not be the bride of any Man less than the King of both Gondor and Arnor. To me then even our victory can bring only sorrow and parting -but to you hope of joy for a while. Alas, my son! I fear that to Arwen the Doom of Men may seem hard at the ending.”

Each of these foretellings prove true, and they shape the Tale as much as the choices the characters make in response to them. But there is one final foretelling. It comes at the end of Aragorn's life when, as Elrond foresaw, the approaching end of their story seems hard. Aragorn's last words to Arwen foretell in no uncertain terms that there is hope beyond the sorrow of death:

    14. "In sorrow we must go, but not in despair. Behold! we are not bound for ever to the circles of the world, and beyond them is more than memory. Farewell!”

This last prophecy of course is the only one we do not see come true. How could we? Yet such is the weight of all the accurate foretellings that come before it by all the characters that this one is credible on its own. Tolkien has so composed The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen as presented in Appendix A, which importantly is explicitly called only a part of that Tale, that it focusses throughout on prophetic truth culminating in the hope with which Estel faces death, followed in time by Arwen's similar quiet acceptance of it despite her sorrow. The Dooms of Men and Elves, the coming together of mortal and immortal, the interplay of Fate and Free Will, and the Choice of Lúthien all come together here. 

The "Real Reason"® Hobbits Don't Like Boats

According to the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings, the sea is a symbol of death to hobbits (FR Pr. 07). We tend to imagine mythical explanations for this perspective. From the Odyssey to Beowulf, the sea has often had associations with death. It's understandable. The sea is vast. It never rests. And it is not your friend. Water always wins. Even in Tolkien's legendarium, west across the sea is the direction the Elves sail off in never to return, and west across the sea lay the great island of Númenor that disappeared beneath the waves long ago. Hearing such stories even remotely, those who knew nothing of the sea, like the hobbits who came to Eriador from beyond the Misty Mountains, couldn't be blamed for thinking the sea was a place to avoid. It might even explain why some of the Stoors turned around and went back over the mountains.

I am here to set the record straight, because the real reason is much simpler than that. The evidence speaks plainly. 

• "Indeed, few Hobbits had ever seen or sailed upon the Sea, and fewer still had ever returned to report on it."
• Frodo's parents both fell into the Brandywine River and drowned.
• Even the rumor of this struck terror into the evening crowd at The Ivy Bush.
• After Bilbo's disappearance from the Shire, some insisted that he must have "run off.... and undoubtedly fallen into a pool or a river, and come to a tragic, but hardly an untimely, end."
• Pippin's great great uncle Hildefons "went off on a journey and never returned,"
• Sam leaps into the Anduin to try to catch Frodo before he can paddle away. and he sinks immediately. Frodo has to save him from drowning.

Clearly, Hobbits are negatively buoyant. 

They sink like a stone. 

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Dear internet: this is a joke, ok?

Joe Hoffman, this one's for you.