Of all the magical places Tolkien created the woodland realm of
Lothlórien is the one I love the most. It is both exotic and ancient, full of wisdom
and concealed power but also mirth and love even though ’in all lands love is now mingled with grief.’ Before Christmas I wrote an essay about the
themes of absence, fading and evanescence in Tolkien’s poems. The poems I
analysed were The Song of Beren and
Lúthien, Galadriel’s Song of Eldamar and
The Lay of Nimrodel and I pondered their place as a significant part of the
mythological tradition and continuum of Middle-Earth. Each of these poems – in
my opinion – is impregnated with deep longing and grief though not only because
they all speak of something that is lost of yore.
Especially Galadriel’s Song of
Eldamar made me think of Lórien, fairest of all remaining elven realms on
the eastern shores of the Sundering Seas. It is uncommonly graceful and
beautiful and yet (speaking of The Lord of the Rings since that is where the
poem appears) we readers only get to see it near to its passing in the days
when its glory grows lesser. Alongside the Fellowship we wander under the
fading mellyrn that, despite their
lingering beauty, have already been touched by frost. This process of
diminishing also concerns one of the most essential paradoxes of the novel:
destroying the One Ring is the only way to save Middle-Earth and its peoples.
However, when the Ring is destroyed also the power of the Three Rings fades
away. Nenya, the Ring of Adamant wielded by Galadriel is the Ring of
preservation and protection. Destroying the One Ring inevitably causes
Lothlórien, the very place the Ring of Adamant was used to guard, to diminish
when the protective power of Nenya ceases.
The Fall of Lórien literally is
the fall of Lórien; as so often in the works of Tolkien (and probably generally
in literature) here too autumn is associated with passing and change. It also
causes Galadriel to miss the Undying Lands she left so long ago:
‘O Lórien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless
Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lórien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.’
Winter is on its way and the spring and summer of Lothlórien are gone by
‘and they will never be seen on earth
again save in memory’. In this quote (The Fellowship of the Ring; Farewell
to Lórien p. 396) the very core of my essay can be seen: most of the poems and
songs, especially those of the Elves, are signs of something ancient, something
lost, something treasured. When the Third Age comes near to its end there are
more than one major changes going on in Middle-Earth and many things will fall
into oblivion. Much of the folklore and history of Middle-Earth has survived in
Elven poems and songs, but now the ones that still remember the ancient tales
are leaving the Hither Shore in order to return to the Undying Lands. Instead
of being the singers themselves the Elves now become the ones sung about, they no longer are the
storytellers but parts of the stories. With them also fades the oral tradition
of Middle-Earth – for instance in Elrond’s Hall of Fire in Rivendell thousands
of poems and tales were told throughout the years. That tradition is coming to
its end when the Fourth Age comes nearer.
The mythological tradition itself (again, in my opinion) is not fading
even though oral tradition might; Bilbo Baggins collected countless songs,
poems and tales in the Red Book of Westmarch, including translations from
Elvish. The turn of the Third Age into the Fourth is also a turning point for
the mythological tradition since it becomes written (and also translated which
is not meaningless whenever speaking about Tolkien) instead of oral.
Back to Lórien. The mellyrn
are fading, winter has come and the realm is slowly deserted. When I first read
The Lord of the Rings 12 years ago I was sad to see that happen – in fact, I
still am. However, I’m starting to understand why that had to happen. Besides,
even though Lórien as it was in its summer is gone it doesn’t mean it has completely
left those who loved it. The spring and summer won’t be seen again save in memory – and even though those
who remembered are gone there luckily were those who wrote down the memories.
Luckily there was Bilbo Baggins.
