That you'll probably have to discuss with Hal (possible copyright issues ... 😁 )How about The Gandolorian?
Maybe she can finally layout her history.I was thinking of publishing a book I've written . . . titled Bilbo Baggins And The Mannish Tradition, with an Appendix about Galadriel titled Galadriel.
It's different enough to escape copyright, yes?That you'll probably have to discuss with Hal (possible copyright issues ... 😁 )
I don't agree with the (it would seem) popular notion that Merry's strike made the Witch-king vulnerable to other swords. This isn't stated in the description about Merry's dagger, and even Sauron himself had reason to fear Narsil reforged, for example. I think "invulnerable" to other weapons makes the Nazgul-lord too powerful -- he already has his advantages; one huge one being instilling unreasoning fear in his enemies, for example.
Merry's blade broke a spell yes, but one that knit the Witch-king's sinews to his will. Variant interpretations are possible of course, but to my mind it means that the Witch-king could not will
his unseen "sinews" (his body) to ward off Éowyn's deadly strike.
The connection between will and body was broken by a leg wound inflicted by a Hobbit -- a Hobbit wielding not a mere dagger however.
The Wraith seems to do little to try to avoid or deflect Éowyn's sword, and to me the choice of wording in the passage does not exactly imply that her reply was lightning-quick -- Merry calls Éowyn's name twice, she is "tottering, struggling up" to deliver her blow, and the Nazgul Lord does not evade her strike, or try to block it -- in my opinion he's now "vulnerable" in the tactical sense, thanks to the special blade. However, I doubt that he had no fear whatsoever of a deadly strike (as opposed to a leg wound) from a Rohir like Éomer, or some other great warrior.
The Lord of the Nazgul may even act fearless on the field of battle, or seem invulnerable to many of his foes, but that is quite a different thing from actually being invulnerable to the weapon of a potential adversary.
That interpreted, while the Witch-king may have been "brought to nothing" by Éowyn and Merry, I think it's possible that he could have returned. We are now referring to the flood here, but Gandalf notes: "You cannot destroy Ringwraiths like that," said Gandalf. "The power of their master is in them, and they stand or fall by him" The Ring Goes South
But thankfully the One was destroyed soon after the Witch-king's fall, in any case.
I admit however, that Gandalf's remark about Legolas' shot seems odd, if this is so: "One that you cannot slay with arrows," said Gandalf. "You only slew his steed. It was a good deed; but the Rider was soon horsed again. For he was a Nazgul, one of the Nine, who ride now upon winged steeds."
Again, my opinion is that you can "slay" these invisible servants with arrows, you just can't take them out for good -- which is at least possibly what Gandalf means here. In any case, sometimes with Tolkien, you can't have all the relevant texts go easily your way!
Another consideration for me: it was said (Appendix A) that the Witch-king feared Boromir (another Boromir). Why fear him, did he have a special blade? I think the answer is in the text rather: "a man strong in body and in will."
My emphasis on will.
You've got to stand up to the WK first, then you've got to make that first blow count!
The Knife/Sword that Meriodoc Brandybuck stabbed the Witch-King in the back of the knee/leg with was created specifically to sever the link between the Nazgûl and their respective Ring-of Power.
See my comment. You cannot slay nor even harm a Nazgûl with normal weapons without first causing the link to Their Ring(s)-of-Power to be severed, so that the Hröa begins to become substantial, so that it can die or be slain.
This is the importance of the Barrow-Blades.
You have that part right. But The Witch-King did have he means to “ward-off Éowyn’s sword.” He was just a bit preoccupied with the horrifying agony of ANY sensation that he had been deprived of for thousands of years due to having no Substantial Hröa,
By his "will", do you mean his féa? Or rather the will of the mind, which would then be part of the hróa?Or the link to his will was severed from his body
Ah, thanks for the clarification!Will 1. The mental faculty by which one deliberately chooses or decides upon a course of action (and so on, from a given dictionary . . .)
And in this context, in my opinion, control over the body . . . the Wraith cannot will his body to avoid,
or try to deflect, a killing strike from Éowyn. As Tolkien describes it, the link from will to sinews was cut. And the Witch-king (arguably) had time to defend himself, given the description from the author.
No doubt intense pain can be distracting (another theory offered above), but on the other hand, in general, even us regular human beans have been known to do things while in intense pain to try to avoid. . . death!
Another description from Tolkien, if this time brief and less "poetic": "Sam does not sink his blade into the Ringwraith's thigh ( . . .) (If he had, the result would have been much the same as in III 117-20: the Wraith would have fallen down and the sword would have been destroyed.)."
JRRT, Letter 210
Well, the published text tells us that Merry's stab severed the link between the Witch-king's body and his will.
Again, I've seen this theory now and again, but nothing (so far) that's this direct from JRRT himself.
And why should the Witch-king fear Boromir if what you say here is true?
Or the link to his will was severed from his body
By his "will", do you mean his féa? Or rather the will of the mind, which would then be part of the hróa?
Elthir my friend, I believe I can answer you, and at the same time shed some light on how the Great Rings affected Elves and Men necromantically – for Sauron, who led the Elven-smiths of Eregion to forge them as they were, is The Necromancer.
Necromancy is magic concerning death and the dead. In Tolkien’s world, this involves the relationship between the body, the hröa, and the spirit, the fëa. Throughout the legendarium, the natural progression for Men was for their spirits (fëar) to part from their bodies (hröar) because of old age, disease, or injury, and depart Arda. The natural progression for Elves was for their spirits (fëar) to remain with their bodies (hröar) from birth until the end of Arda, unless they were killed. (Some Elves also departed their hröar from grief: Fëanor’s mother Serindë and Lúthien Tinúviel are two notable examples; but these are exceptions.)
The problem for Elves, particularly in Middle-earth, was that their fëar “consumed” their hröar, so that the hröa eventually became invisible (Morgoth’s Ring, “Myths Transformed”, “Aman”):
[A]fter the vitality of the hröa was expended in achieving full growth, it began to weaken or grow weary. Very slowly indeed, but to all the Quendi perceptibly. For a while it would be fortified and maintained by its indwelling fëa, and then its vitality would begin to ebb, and its desire for physical life and joy in it would pass ever more swiftly away. Then an Elf would begin … to “fade”, until the fëa as it were consumed the hröa until it remained only in the love and memory of the spirit that had inhabited it.This fading was of great concern to the Elves. It did not happen, or took place much more slowly, in Aman (Valinor). But Elves in Middle-earth had begun to notice it before the middle of the Second Age, because preventing their physical fading seems to have been one of the temptations Sauron, disguised as “Annatar”, offered to the Elven-smiths of Eregion: It was one of their motivations in making the Rings of Power.
What does Sam say of Lórien?
[T]his is more Elvish than anything I ever heard tell of. I feel as if I was inside a song.Galadriel has preserved a bit of the old world, the world that was before fading, within her borders. Aragorn warns Boromir,
There is … in this land no evil, unless a man bring it hither himself.What does Tolkien say of Rivendell?
[S]uch was the virtue of the land of Rivendell that soon all fear and anxiety was lifted from [the] minds [of Frodo and his companions]. The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present.And in The Hobbit,
[Rivendell] was perfect, whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all. Evil things did not come into that valley.I cite all this to reiterate what Gandalf told Frodo about the Three Rings:
[T]hey were … made [for] understanding, making, and healing, to preserve all things unstained.In Letter 131, Tolkien goes into some detail about this (please pardon such a long citation):
[The Elves] wanted the peace and bliss and perfect memory of “The West”, and yet to remain on the ordinary earth where their prestige as the highest people … was greater than at the bottom of the hierarchy of Valinor. They thus became obsessed with “fading”, the mode in which the changes of time … was perceived by them. They became sad, and their … efforts all really a kind of embalming – even though they also retained the old motive of their kind, the adornment of earth, and the healing of its hurts. We hear of a lingering kingdom, [Linden]; and of other[s], such as Imladris (Rivendell)…; and a great one at Eregion … adjacent to the Mines of Moria, the major realm of the Dwarves… There … smithcraft reached its highest development. But many of the Elves listened to Sauron. He was still fair … and his motives and those of the Elves seemed to go partly together… Sauron found their weak point… With the aid of Sauron’s lore they made Rings of Power (“power” is an ominous and sinister word…).The chief power (of all the rings alike) was the prevention or slowing of decay (i.e. “change”, viewed as a regrettable thing), the preservation of what is … loved … – this is more or less an Elvish motive. But also they enhanced the natural powers of a possessor… [F]inally they had other powers, more directly derived from Sauron (“The Necromancer”…): such as rendering invisible the material body, and making things of the invisible world visible.Let us focus for a moment on this last sentence, rendering invisible the material body, and making things of the invisible world visible. I strenuously argue that the Elves had no desire to be made invisible: that contradicts what Tolkien said earlier in the passage, that the Elves “became obsessed with ‘fading’.” And those Elves who had lived in Valinor, likely including Celebrimbor, could already see into the “invisible world,” the shadow-world, spirit world, whatever you’d like to call it: the “wraith-world,” if you will: it is Tolkien’s spirit world. But Sauron is The Necromancer. How would his powers be used to allay the Elvish obsession with “fading”?
I propose that the necromancy of the Rings of Power was to prevent the fading of the hröar of their Elvish wielders. It interrupted the natural progression of Elvish physical development in Middle-earth: It stops the consumption of the hröa by the fëa (i.e., it prevents physical decay) in Elves. This would be most enticing to an Elf!
But what is their effect on mortal Men? Well, it still halts the natural progression of the relationship between the hröa and the fëa, but in this case, it prevents physical death. That’s a variation of necromancy, but in this case, instead of inducing death, it holds the fëa, the spirit, to the hröa, the body. You can get hurt, really badly hurt, but you can’t die. And if you consider this, it could become a kind of living hell.
No doubt their Rings of Power gave their nine mortal keepers enhanced powers in combat, strength, command, sorcery. It made them effectively “immortal” in the eyes of other Men – warriors and commanders who (seemingly) could not be defeated, could not be overcome, particularly if the wielder of a Ring took some precautions. (Like not sticking your head in a guillotine: that could be messy, carrying your head under your arm!) But they could be hurt, and like anyone else who is injured, you have to heal. As Tolkien says in Letter 210,
[The Ringwraiths] have no great physical power against the fearless; but what they have, and the fear that they inspire, is enormously increased in darkness.
But what happens to an injured Man when the Ring finally reaches its Elvish goal of arresting change? Well, he remains a injured Man! Unless he is a competent enough sorcerer or conjurer to heal himself – or Sauron helps him heal. And this explains an odd thing Tolkien writes in “The Hunt for the Ring” (Unfinished Tales): After the Ringwraiths returned from their unsuccessful hunt for “Shire” and “Baggins” in the Vales of Anduin,
[T]hey met messengers from Barad-dûr conveying threats from their Master that filled even the Morgul-lord with dismay.Why would the Witch-king be “filled with dismay”? One good reason could be that Sauron could torture a Ringwraith without lessening his usefulness as a minister of his will. And by the same token, why would the Witch-king be afraid of Gondor’s Steward Boromir I? Because Boromir had control of his fear, he was a great commander and personally an outstanding warrior, and thus he had the ability to injure even the Witch-king.
Why would five Nazgûl run away from Frodo at Weathertop? Because Frodo had a Barrow-blade, and even though he was terrified, he tried to stab the Witch-king with it! The Barrow-blades could break the spell that bound a Nazgûl’s hröa to his fëa – his hröa could really and truly be killed like any normal Man’s body, at the least leaving that Nazgûl “houseless” like an Elf that had lost its body but refused the summons to Mandos, but at worst consigning him immediately to his eternal doom. (We are not told which: I am on the side of the Witch-king’s spirit, his fëa, becoming “houseless” until the destruction of the Ruling Ring, when it passed on to its eternal doom.)
Submersion in water might be unpleasant for a Nazgûl: he’d have to hang upside down to get the water out of his lungs, and I personally find water in the lungs most unpleasant! Fire injuries are extremely painful, and the magic needed to heal them might be unpleasant, too. A Morgul blade drew a Man’s body into the wraith world, while a Barrow-blade drew a Ringwraith’s body back into the real world, making him vulnerable to having his body severed from spirit.
This explanation allows the Rings of Power to do the same sorts things to both Elves and Men: upset the normal equilibrium between their bodies and their spirits, their hröar and fëar. But the outcome of upsetting that natural balance (or progression) is different depending upon whether the wearer is an Elf or a Man. For the Elf, it means his body doesn’t fade. For the Man, it means his body doesn’t die – unless the spell is broken by one of what we call the Barrow-blades made by the Dúnedain of Arnor. The natural powers and abilities of Elves and Men alike are enhanced by the Nine Rings. But while they may lessen the degree of injuries, or reduce the likelihood of injury, they should not be seen as proof against injury.
And yes, this does imply that one or more of the Nazgûl could be stitched up like Frankenstein’s monster due to treating old injuries.
By the way, I don’t think Tolkien ever refers to the Nazgûl as “invulnerable”.
───◊───
When Merry stabbed the Witch-king in his contest with Éowyn, I think he took out one of the Witch-king’s tendons behind his knee, so that he was injured (he cried out in pain), he no longer had stability to remain standing, and the swing of his mace went wide of his target: to wit, Éowyn’s head. Even if Sam (in Zimmerman’s proposed alteration of Tolkien’s tale) missed any major tendons and only stabbed into muscle with a Barrow-blade, I expect it would still have been a painful experience like none other the Witch-king had encountered since becoming enslaved to his Ring: I think that was Tolkien’s point; besides, Tolkien was immensely annoyed with Zimmerman’s proposed alterations of his tale.
I can’t prove my position. I can only offer what seems to me a sound and reasonable explanation that, to my mind, works well with what most of us can agree is material Tolkien presents in the rest of his legendarium.
I think the situation with the Oath-beakers is entirely different from that of the Nazgûl. Gollum, Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam could all attack and injure others while wearing the One Ring, and they could also be injured while wearing it. I don’t know that the Dead Men of Dunharrow did more than terrify the mariners and soldiers of Umbar: Gimli remarked that at Pelargir,
Pale swords were drawn, but I know not whether their blades would still bite, for the Dead needed no longer any weapon but fear.
First of all, I don’t think Sauron still possessed the ability to shift shape. I think he and the Balrogs were stuck in the incarnations they wore. (The same had become true for Melkor Morgoth by the end of the First Age, and he was a Vala!) Before the destruction of his first avatar in the Downfall of Númenor, Sauron could change his appearance at will, as we see in the fight with Huan at the Bridge of Tol Sirion, or when he disguised himself as Annatar to deceive the Mírdain of Eregion. I think this ability was lost after Númenor.
I certainly agree that Sauron feared being unhoused: thus his reaction at seeing Aragorn in the Orthanc Stone with the Sword of Elendil: it scared him! and that’s exactly what Aragorn meant to do: frighten him, put him off balance, in order to draw his military might out of Mordor so that Frodo could more easily enter and accomplish his mission.
I absolutely agree with you, Elthir. I think the Barrow-blades are most unique! I believe it’s significant that Tom Bombadil chose them for the Hobbits, knowing that they would sooner or later have to face the Ringwraiths: he clearly knew what they were and why they were made. I think Frodo used one on the Barrow-wight, but all it did to the Barrow-wight was sever its hand at the wrist, splinter immediately (I suspect that’s a property of the blade’s striking a creature in the “wraith world”), and piss it off mightily: It cried out, then snarled. The spell that allowed an evil spirit to inhabit a corpse in the barrow (perhaps that of the last Prince of Cardolan) was different from the one that bound the hröa of the Witch-king to his fëa. Bombadil broke the Barrow-wight’s binding spell.
Like their counterparts the Morgul blades, the Barrow-blades are special purpose weapons. (Seeing the effects of Morgul blades might well have inspired the forging of Barrow-blades.) I imagine all of them were crafted by the same smith before the Great Plague that wiped out the inhabitants of Cardolan. I think they were forged in Cardolan (and were thus in the graves there), and I cannot see how they were made without the assistance of either Tom Bombadil (which would immediately explain his recognition of the weapons and their purpose) or one or more of the surviving Mírdain in Imladris. (Some of the Mírdain apparently remained in Rivendell until the end of the Third Age; I think it was they who reforged the shards of Narsil into Andúril.) Somehow the Dúnadan who forged those blades came to know how to terminate the power of a Great Ring to hold together the hröa and fëa, and I think that knowledge could only come from one of the smiths who had worked on the Rings of Power or from Bombadil, assuming he understood how Rings of Power operated. With that in view, I’d have to say the more likely source of information is one of the Mírdain. But I whole-heartedly agree with you that these are unique weapons. By the way, it’s notable that while Bombadil recognized their usefulness, neither Aragorn nor Gandalf nor Elrond makes any comment on them: I don’t know that they realized what they were. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence, but it is suggestive.
───◊───
I can’t prove my proposition. I offer it as an explanation because I think it makes sense, I think it fits together well with other things we know about Tolkien’s works, and I don’t believe it contradicts anything he wrote either in canon or in his private musings (that have so far been published). I’ve spent over 10 hours working on these two posts and written well over five thousand words: I cannot justify spending any more time on this. I hope some of you find it useful, but if you disagree, that’s certainly your prerogative.
Will 1. The mental faculty by which one deliberately chooses or decides upon a course of action (and so on, from a given dictionary . . .)
And in this context, in my opinion, control over the body . . . the Wraith cannot will his body to avoid,
or try to deflect, a killing strike from Éowyn. As Tolkien describes it, the link from will to sinews was cut. And the Witch-king (arguably) had time to defend himself, given the description from the author.
No doubt intense pain can be distracting (another theory offered above), but on the other hand, in general, even us regular human beans have been known to do things while in intense pain to try to avoid. . . death!
Another description from Tolkien, if this time brief and less "poetic": "Sam does not sink his blade into the Ringwraith's thigh ( . . .) (If he had, the result would have been much the same as in III 117-20: the Wraith would have fallen down and the sword would have been destroyed.)."
JRRT, Letter 210
As I have pointed-to in other threads. You are looking for quotes that take decades of reading to understand, and would take me years to explain.
Looking into what a Ring of Power/Authority is (Power does not mean the kind of “Video-Game Energy/Strength” that people mistakenly apply to it, (snip . . .). You will find in these something that tells you how these things “work“ regarding undead within Middle-earth, and why applying “Video-Game Logic” to it is a colossal failure.
Elthir is kind of talking out of his anatomy (not because of any bad-faith on his part, but due to a focus that excludes the really important things that aren’t in the stories themselves), given that the term “Will” doesn’t mean what he thinks it does.
( . . . ) It doesn’t come out and say “Here are the instructions for making a Nazgûl/Wraith.” It provides an example of how the duration of the Body in Time causes it to be consumed by the Fëa. In Elves, this produces the “Fading” that Tolkien refers to. But it is something that also happens to a Mortal who lives beyond their allotted Natural Time. Their Fëa consumes the Body.
In the Wraiths, the body is prevented from dying by the Power/Authority/Will of the Ring-of-Power. The Hröa is eventually consumed, “Fading” to insubstantiality. An insubstantial Body cannot die, or even be harmed.
That isn’t what “Will” means to a Catholic, albeit it is connected to it. You are trying to apply conversational English to a term of Theology.
Well, how do you know how long it would take me to understand a given quote or quotes?
For the record, I'm not applying "video-game-logic" to the Rings of Power.
I'm not even talking about a Ring of Power, I'm talking about the will of the Wraith to control its sinews. Tolkien writes that Merry's blade clove the undead flesh, breaking a spell which knit his sinews to his will -- the Witch-king's sinews to the Witch-king's will -- easily explaining why the Wraith did nothing to save itself from Éowyn's strike.
Or due to a focus regarding the wording JRRT chose in the published account.
Yep, NOME and other texts (Morgoth's Ring for example) include texts that refer to the Elvish fea and hroa. Your jump to "In the Wraiths . . ." is rather what's in question here.
And by "insubstantial" do you mean regular weapons simply pass through the Nine without harm? And if they cannot be harmed, why then, again for example, does the Witch-king fear Boromir?
Or perhaps you are trying to apply a definition that has no place in the context of the description in question, asserting that X is so because Tolkien was Catholic.
from p. x of Volume X of HoM-e, and p. xi of NoM-e:
Meditating long on the world that he had brought into being and was now in part unveiled, he had become absorbed in analytic speculation concerning its underlying postulates. Before he could prepare a new and final Silmarillion he must satisfy the requirements of a coherent theological and metaphysical system, rendered now more complex in its presentation by the supposition of obscure and conflicting elements in its roots and its tradition.
MB
Some parts of the anatomy produce nothing but noise, and chaos, and unpleasantness.BTW, a question: if you don't "talk out of your anatomy", what do you talk out of?🤔
I just read through this entire thread. Wow. Very intriguing things about the Nazgul. Now, I know I am late to the discussion, yet I think Tolkien may have intended this ambiguity for a reason.
See, I think Tolkien certainly wanted the Nazgul to be particularly mysterious, a vague shape defined more by their hideous ways than their shape or bodily form. The Nazgul were, I feel, by all accounts; spirits. While they could take bodily form through black cloaks, it seems that they did not need to. Knowing that they were once the Nine Men of Numenor, it is quite evident, that they are bound to the Power of the One Ring, which harnesses such power as none other can wield. It may be, then, that such words have intense purpose. Just a thought.
I question you repeated rather loose use of the term "sources" in several discussions here on TTF. In one thread you mention "secondary" and ever "tertiary sources" (and sometimes I'm not sure if you mean "sources used by JRRT" or "sources about JRRT" and his works.).
You are looking for quotes that take decades of reading to understand, and would take me years to explain.
I question you repeated rather loose use of the term "sources" in several discussions here on TTF. In one thread you mention "secondary" and ever "tertiary sources" (and sometimes I'm not sure if you mean "sources used by JRRT" or "sources about JRRT" and his works.).
The problem starts with "secondary sources". Perhaps the best-known are the "commentaries" on religious and philosophical works, huge libraries of them on the Bible - the possibly best-known, at least as far as the title goes, Thomas Aquinas's (unfinished!) "Summa Theologica". Which drew in part on the commentary of Aristotle by Ibn Rushd, latinized Averroes (1126-1198), who had several predecessors in the Islamic world, the best-known probably Ibn Sina, latinized Avicenna (980-1037). Since Thomas Aquinas's death in 1274, his "Summa Theologica" has been the subject of further commentaries ...
Every commentary is an interpretation by the respective author. What the author of the work being commented on would have thought of the commentary is another matter altogether. Add another layer of commentary, and another ... the original author might at some point might growl "what on earth are you talking about?!?"
One issue JRRT seems to have had with source studies (there are some good insights on the topic in Jason Fisher's 2011 book "Tolkien and the Study of His Sources", Fisher being the editor of this collection of 11 essays, one of them his own (besides the preface). McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, ISBN 978-0-7864-6482-1, in case you're interested.) is the criticism of plagiarism that might be implied by such studies. Some doctorates by politicians in Germany have gone down the tubes due to plagiarism-hunters who located too much copy 'n' paste in those works. Copy 'n' paste is definitely not the way JRRT worked. There is his comment about the "mould of the mind" in which sources, so to speak, are decomposed, to arise in his writings in a changed form. This is true even for his Great Tale where the ancestry is the clearest, from the Finnish Kalevala's story on Kullervo to the story of Túrin. Other sources have decomposed more, though they may at times still be recognized.
And even with primary sources, how JRRT used them varied widely. One of his favorite endeavors was filling in gaps in the original. "The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún", edited and published by Christopher Tolkien in 2009, seems to be the example in his works for such an effort, filling in gaps in the surviving manuscripts of in the Völsunga Saga and the Nibelungenlied. In other cases, his reaction was "I can do better" (the march of the Ents vs. a scene he thought pathetic in MacBeth). Or even possibly a "this won't do!", leading to a revisionist telling of an episode.
And this post of yours (yes, I may be taking it out of context - somehow I doubt I am):
Are you serious? If you're implying that JRRT did any of this, my quick 'n' dirty estimate of its probability yields this result:
nil.
You believe that answers not given in the "three primary sources" (Hobbit, LoTR and?) may exist in other works, aka sources JRRT had read. So perhaps he had read Summa Theologica (on what authority do you have that?), but "a long history of Catholic Theology, Metaphysics, Philosophy, etc."? JRRT was neither a philosopher nor a theologian, he was a philologist - a topic that was and is (?) sufficient to keep a professor quite occupied (C.S. Lewis had studied philosophy). And as to JRRT having done "decades of reading" on such topics, I stand by my estimate of nil as to that being probably (and I don't think I want to get started on your needing "years to explain" ...)Tolkien’s Novels contain insufficient information to answer many questions based upon them alone, and that their answers tend to exist in other works beyond the three primary sources.
And whether Aquinas completed the Summa Theologica is not as important as that Tolkien did finish reading it, often, along with the commentaries on it, along with a long history of Catholic Theology, Metaphysics, Philosophy, etc.
And if your “quick & dirty estimate” yields “nil,” then I suspect you haven’t really looked.
I question you repeated rather loose use of the term "sources" in several discussions here on TTF. In one thread you mention "secondary" and ever "tertiary sources" (and sometimes I'm not sure if you mean "sources used by JRRT" or "sources about JRRT" and his works.).
The problem starts with "secondary sources". Perhaps the best-known are the "commentaries" on religious and philosophical works, huge libraries of them on the Bible - the possibly best-known, at least as far as the title goes, Thomas Aquinas's (unfinished!) "Summa Theologica". Which drew in part on the commentary of Aristotle by Ibn Rushd, latinized Averroes (1126-1198), who had several predecessors in the Islamic world, the best-known probably Ibn Sina, latinized Avicenna (980-1037). Since Thomas Aquinas's death in 1274, his "Summa Theologica" has been the subject of further commentaries ...
Every commentary is an interpretation by the respective author. What the author of the work being commented on would have thought of the commentary is another matter altogether. Add another layer of commentary, and another ... the original author might at some point might growl "what on earth are you talking about?!?"
One issue JRRT seems to have had with source studies (there are some good insights on the topic in Jason Fisher's 2011 book "Tolkien and the Study of His Sources", Fisher being the editor of this collection of 11 essays, one of them his own (besides the preface). McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, ISBN 978-0-7864-6482-1, in case you're interested.) is the criticism of plagiarism that might be implied by such studies. Some doctorates by politicians in Germany have gone down the tubes due to plagiarism-hunters who located too much copy 'n' paste in those works. Copy 'n' paste is definitely not the way JRRT worked. There is his comment about the "mould of the mind" in which sources, so to speak, are decomposed, to arise in his writings in a changed form. This is true even for his Great Tale where the ancestry is the clearest, from the Finnish Kalevala's story on Kullervo to the story of Túrin. Other sources have decomposed more, though they may at times still be recognized.
And even with primary sources, how JRRT used them varied widely. One of his favorite endeavors was filling in gaps in the original. "The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrún", edited and published by Christopher Tolkien in 2009, seems to be the example in his works for such an effort, filling in gaps in the surviving manuscripts of in the Völsunga Saga and the Nibelungenlied. In other cases, his reaction was "I can do better" (the march of the Ents vs. a scene he thought pathetic in MacBeth). Or even possibly a "this won't do!", leading to a revisionist telling of an episode.
And this post of yours (yes, I may be taking it out of context - somehow I doubt I am):
Are you serious? If you're implying that JRRT did any of this, my quick 'n' dirty estimate of its probability yields this result:
nil.
You believe that answers not given in the "three primary sources" (Hobbit, LoTR and?) may exist in other works, aka sources JRRT had read. So perhaps he had read Summa Theologica (on what authority do you have that?), but "a long history of Catholic Theology, Metaphysics, Philosophy, etc."? JRRT was neither a philosopher nor a theologian, he was a philologist - a topic that was and is (?) sufficient to keep a professor quite occupied (C.S. Lewis had studied philosophy). And as to JRRT having done "decades of reading" on such topics, I stand by my estimate of nil as to that being probably (and I don't think I want to get started on your needing "years to explain" ...)
As seen in the Introduction to Part Two of The Nature of Middle-earth (p. 172):
As seen in part one, and further in various texts published in Morgoth’s Ring (see especially X:217–25), by the late 1950s Tolkien had become greatly interested in the nature and relationship of spirits (in Quenya föar) and bodies (Q. hrëar) in incarnates – that is, beings like Men and Elves that are by nature a union of a material body and a created, immaterial soul. As will be seen herein, consideration of bodies and spirits, and the closely related matter of minds, continued into the last years of Tolkien’s life, and ran in both metaphysical and mundane directions: from the nature of being and identity, the relation of free will to divine foreknowledge, thought-communication, and the manner and mode of Elvish reincarnation; to the finger-games of Elvish children, and the question of which races and characters did or did not have beards.
It will further be seen that the metaphysics of Middle-earth as reflected here is firmly Catholic: that is, it is clearly informed by the metaphysics espoused by St. Thomas Aquinas (itself deeply influenced by Aristotle’s metaphysics), which enjoyed a dramatic reaffirmation by the Catholic Church during Tolkien’s youth, under Pope Leo XIII (who reigned 1878–1903). As Tolkien famously said, “The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work” (L:172), a statement that has puzzled many critics, because both The Lord of the Rings and Tolkien’s wider legendarium are all but devoid of references to any religious cultus (let alone a Catholic system of rites and worship). As I hope the texts presented here will show, the key word in Tolkien’s statement, often ignored as simply emphatic, is fundamentally: that is, in its foundations, in its essential nature. In these particular texts, this is most clearly seen in Tolkien’s implied commitment to hylomorphism: that is, the Aristotelean-Thomistic teaching that all material things are ultimately a union of created but undifferentiated prime matter (in Quenya, erma) with a God-given form (in Tolkien’s parlance here, pattern, that which gives each portion of erma the nature and shape of the thing that it is). It is also reflected in the commitment to the belief that everything, even Morgoth himself, was as created good, but that due to the free will possessed by every creature with a rational mind, they could fall: as one Vala and various Maiar, and Men corporately, did; and that even Manwë, had he asserted his own will and judgement over Eru’s, would likewise have fallen. Further discussion of these and similar matters is provided for the interested reader in App. I.[fn1]
[Emphasis added]
As to the language syllabus at Leeds, it was JRRT who basically created it there - and was awarded a chair for his efforts. A chair and syllabus Shippey inherited a couple of generations later, and had to supplant the latter with a newer one. As to that, you failed to mention the revised syllabus at Oxford that JRRT and C.S. Lewis managed to get passed in Oxford ca. 1931, and which Tom Shippey apparently still taught in his time at Oxford prior to his move to the chair at Leeds....
As far as a direct statement to the effect of “What” Tolkien personally read, you must move your ass to King Edwards Grammar School, and pull out the Syllabus for the years Tolkien attended (1900 - 1911), and then to St. Philip’s Grammar School for the 1902 Syllabus, and then to Oxford to get the Syllabus for 1912 to 1918, and the Syllabus he had to teach at Leeds College… And that will give you a pretty definitive list (I did these things from 1982 to 1985 when I was in College in London and Marseilles, France).
Plus… I will trust Tom Shippey‘s and Doug Hofstetter’s accounts of Tolkien’s influences, given that I have had the ability to read all of these works, AND everything Tolkien read, while pursuing other interests.
As to the language syllabus at Leeds, it was JRRT who basically created it there - and was awarded a chair for his efforts. A chair and syllabus Shippey inherited a couple of generations later, and had to supplant the latter with a newer one. As to that, you failed to mention the revised syllabus at Oxford that JRRT and C.S. Lewis managed to get passed in Oxford ca. 1931, and which Tom Shippey apparently still taught in his time at Oxford prior to his move to the chair at Leeds.
But what help in the sense of sources for JRRT's works is this piling up of syllabuses? There's a lot of chaff in that pile.
As there is in the pile of secondary and tertiary sources you've mentioned more than once.
As you mention Thomas Aquinas, I'll take that as a starting point. We're heading for reductio ad absurdum territory ...
So JRRT read all of the "Summa Theologica" (my aside about the incompleteness was only to note that other authors of quite different genres besides JRRT have their "Unfinished Tales"). How much of it is relevant for Middle-earth?
Thomas Aquinas, for the Aristotelian thoughts he brought into his "Summa Theologica", used Ibn Rushd's commentary (question: did he read the Arabic original? Highly unlikely. Thomas Aquinas was at both the universities of Paris and that of Cologne, the latter with his mentor Albertus Magnus. He spoke neither French nor German, being able, in the university bubble, to get by with his fluent Latin). Did he use all of the commentary? Again, unlikely, as only parts were likely useful for his "Summa T". That's the secondary source.
Ibn Rushd's commentary on Aristotle: did the former read the latter's writing in the original Greek (original manuscripts were almost certainly no longer extant, a millennium and a half later)? Or did he use Arabic (or Persian) translations of Aristotle? Now we've reached the tertiary source.
By the occasional sweeping statement of yours I would not be able to fault anyone in getting the impression that "to understand JRRT's writings, I'd have to read all of Aristotle?!?"
Tolkien didn’t create any Syllabus at Leeds AS A STUDENT (Nor as a first year Professor).Should you reply "no, I didn't mean it that way" - well, welcome to the reality of human communications, where misunderstandings are far more common than most like to admit - even without the efforts of the Goebbels-lookalikes, the perpetrators of Orwell's "Doublespeak".
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