Ring Cycle

When my Grandpa Harry passed away—one year ago this coming Thursday—I inherited his well-worn edition of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. He used to read me stories from those books when I was little, and I remember falling asleep with the voices of Bilbo Baggins and company in my head. Recently, thinking about the anniversary of his death, I picked up The Fellowship of the Ring, the first of the LotR trilogy, and thought I'd give it a try—maybe read that one this year, the second one next year, etc. But about half way through Fellowship, the momentum of the story becomes overwhelming, and now I'm well in to The Return of the King, the last of the trilogy.

One thing that has struck me is how musical the various peoples of Middle-earth are. Tolkien's characters frequently supplement the narrative with ballads—some fairly lengthy—that develop the mytho-historical context of the tale and enrich our sense of the Middle-earth's cultures. Tolkien gives us the words, but mostly leaves the melodies to the imagination (most are sung unaccompanied by a single voice). Here's a verse from a song described this way: "Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune that was as old as the hills..."

Upon the hearth the fire is red,
Beneath the roof there is a bed;
But not yet weary are our feet,
Still round the corner we may meet
A sudden tree or standing stone
That one have seen but we alone.
Tree and flower and leaf and grass,
Let them pass! Let them pass!
Hill and water under sky,
Pass them by! Pass them by!