Ah! to think that once we toiled away at our simple lures, cast out into the cold and shunned by wisefolk. Bereft of trust or love were we then, labouring feebly that we may on occasion entrap some weakminded treat on which to sup. But you knew our tricks and were wise to them, fleeing fairy promise and guarding yourselves with ancient cautions. And we were bereft. Peat bogs and darkling woods were then our haunts; dank and miserable places. Sparkling lights and laughing voices our bait, promise of might and riches our desperate ploy. And we were cold, and…
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The Tale of the Children of Húrin has, rather fairly, earned a reputation as being the grimmest and saddest of all Tolkien’s stories. Indeed, its presence in a mythological world permeated by the eucatastrophe may seem incongruous to first-time readers, used to the inherent hope and joy of Arda (and perhaps not yet cognizant of just how deeply tragic and bittersweet it often proves). The implications of its unyielding tragedy, of Túrin and the potentiality of his free will, and the justifiability of the various choices he makes along his long and destructive road are all themes that have been…
Leave a CommentIt is with absolute pleasure that I am able to finally announce the Blog of Mazarbul’s new project – a work of analysis so audacious, so comprehensive, and so important, that it may very well change the face of Tolkien scholarship forever. I, like many of my tens of readers, enjoy listening to the occasional podcast, watching a video essay, or reading some piece of analysis on Tolkien’s works. There are, of course, many brilliant and worthwhile discussions, reviews, analyses and classes available online for those interested in studying Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings and other associated works. But…
Leave a CommentWe all of us are things forgotten still clinging to memory. Immortality. The great and universal human ambition. Promised ever and anon by the mystic words of prophets and sages, whose very sight hath pierced the veil twixt death and everlife. Sought after by philosophers and surgeons, greedy grasping for elixirs and potions that may prolong mortality by weeks, days, even precious and fleeting seconds. It may be that the king, the historian, and the artist can rightly claim to having mastered immortality. For though their fleeting flesh perishes and withers into dust, their deeds and doings ring through the…
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