Tolkien uses the word “sorcery” in several ways. Sometimes he speaks of the sorceries of Sauron or his servants, and we are reminded of the necromancy they practiced. Sometimes Tolkien seems to use the word in a more general way. When the Rohirrim speak of the Lady of the Wood and call her a sorceror, do they truly imply they believe Galadriel consorts with spirits, or do they simply mean they perceive in her a great power they do not share?
In the Elvish conception there was no “magic” so much as “Art”. The Elves simply possessed the natural ability to engage in sub-creation. All the Ainur could do was “sub-create” — manipulate the creation of Il*vatar within those bounds he had set through the creation of E itself. The Elves possessed a similar faculty though much diminished by comparison, except perhaps in some rare cases. F anor, the greatest of the Eldar, rivalled the deeds of the Ainur in some respects, and even aroused envy in Melkor’s heart. And Luthien, being half Elf, half Maia, accomplished a considerable stroke against Melkor himself by singing him and all his servants to sleep inside Angband.
Despairing of his use of the word “magic”, Tolkien wrote to Milton Waldman (a publisher to whom he submitted The Lord of the Rings prior to its final acceptance by Allen & Unwin):
“I have not used ‘magic’ consistently, and indeed the Elven-queen Galadriel is obliged to remonstrate with the Hobbits on their confused use of the word for both the devices and operations of the Enemy, and for those of the Elves. I have not, because there is not a word for the latter (since all human stories have suffered the same confusion). But the Elves are there (in my tales) to demonstrate the difference. Their ‘magic’ is Art, delivered from many of its human limitations: more effortless, more quick, more complete (product, and vision in unflawed correspondence). And its object is Art not Power, sub-creation not domination and tyrranous re-orming of Creation. The ‘Elves’ are ‘immortal’, at least as far as this world goes: and hence are concerned rather with the griefs and burdens of deathlessness in time and change, than with death. The Enemy in successive forms is always ‘naturally’ concerned with sheer Domination, and so the Lord of magic and machines; but the problem: that this frightful evil can and does arise from an apparently good root, the desire to benefit the world and others* — speedily and according to the benefactor’s own plans — is a recurrent motive.”
“*Not in the Beginner of Evil: his was a sub-creative Fall, and hence the Elves (the representatives of sub-creation par excellence) were peculiarly his enemies, and the special object of his desire and hate — and open to his deceits. Their Fall is into possessiveness and (to a less degree) into a perversin of their art to power.”
(Tolkien, “Letters”, Letter 131)
In a draft of a letter written to Naomi Mitcheson (though this part was not actually sent to her), Tolkien elaborated on the distinctions between “mortal” and “Elvish” perceptions of magic:
“I am afraid I have been far too casual about ‘magic’ and especially the use of the word; though Galadriel and others show by the criticism of the ‘mortal’ use of the word, that the thought about it is not altogether casual. But it is a v. large question, and difficult: and a story which, as you so rightly say, is largely about motives (choice, temptations, etc.) and the intentions for using whatever is found in the world, could hardly be burdened with a pseudo-philosophic disquisition! I do not intend to involve myself in any debate whether ‘magic’ in any sense is real of really possible in the world. But I suppose that, for the purposes of the tale, some would say that there is a latent distinction such as once was called the distinction between magia and goeteia. Galadriel speaks of the ‘deceits of the Enemy’. Well enough, but magia chould be, was, held good (per se), and goeteia bad. Neither is, in this tale, good or bad (per se), but only by motive or purpose or use. Both sides use both, but with different motives. The supremely bad motive is (for this tale, since it is specially about it) domination of other ‘free’ wills. The Enemy’s operations are by no means all goetic deceits, but ‘magic’ that produces real effects in the physical world. But his magia he uses to bulldoze both people and things, and his goeteia to terrify and subjugate. Their magia the Elves and Gandalf use (sparingly): a magia, producing real results (like fire in a wet faggot) for specific beneficent purposes. Their goetic effects are entirely artistic and not intended to deceive: they never deceive Elves (but may deceive or bewilder unaware Men) since the difference is to them as clear as the difference to us between fiction, painting, and sculpture, and ‘life’.
“Both sides live mainly by ‘ordinary’ means. The Enemy, or those who have become like him, go in for ‘machinery’ — with destructive and evil effects — because ‘magicians’, who have become chiefly concerned to use magia for their own power, would do so (do do so). The basic motive for magia — quite apart from any philosophic consideration of how it would work — is immediacy: speed, reduction of labour, and reduction also to a minimum (or vanishing point) of the gap between the idea or desire and the result or effect. But the magia may not be easy to come by, and at any rate if you have command of abundant slave-labour or machinery (often only the same thing concealed), it may be as quick or quick enough to push mountains over, wreck forests, or buuld pyramids by such means. Of course another factor then comes in, a moral or pathological one: the tyrants lose sight of objects, become cruel, and like smashing, hurting, and defiling as such. It would no doubt be possible to defend poor Lotho’s introduction of more efficient mills, but not of Sharkey and Sandyman’s use of them.
“Anyway, a difference in the use of ‘magic’ in this story is that it is not to be come by by ‘lore’ or spells; but is in an inherent power not possessed or attainable by Men as such. Aragorn’s ‘healing’ might be regarded as ‘magical’, or at least a blend of magic with pharmacy and ‘hypnotic’ processes. But it is (in theory) reported by hobbits who have very little notions of philosophy and science; while A. is not a pure ‘Man’, but at long remove one of the ‘children of Luthien’.”
(Ibid., Letter 155)
Tolkien borrows the words “magia” and “goeteia” in an attempt to distinguish between forms of magic, but he complicates the matter. He further stumbles when he says that “magic” cannot be practiced by Men — he notes to himself that the Numenoreans indeed used spells on their swords. His examination of the powers in Middle-earth has failed to take note of this fact.
Nonetheless Tolkien distinguishes magia from goeteia by suggesting the former constitutes those actions which produce effects, such as Gandalf’s spell used to ignite flames in a wet faggot of wood on the mountain Caradhras. The game of smoke-rings played by Gandalf and Thorin would also be considered magia (Tolkien, “Hobbit”, p.21). Goeteia must therefore represent the creation of magical items, such as the lamps used by the Elves which give light without the benefit of flame; the magical harps of the Dwarves in Erebor; the enchanted West-gate of Moria which opens when the Sindarin word for “friend” is spoken; and so on.
The goetic magic is the artistic side of sub-creation: Art when the motive is to enhance, preserve, or heal; Sorcery when its motive is to dominate, control, or destroy. The Elves were capable of utilizing their abilities in both directions, but more often preferred Art to Sorcery. Sorcery might be useful as in Finrod’s confrontation with Sauron on the isle of Tol Sirion during the First Age. It might also be the natural expression of the Elvish will as in F anor’s chaotic pursuit of Melkor. It was never beyond the reach of the Elves, but seldom within their arsenal of preferences.
And yet sorcery is practiced by Men throughout Middle-earth: the nine Men who accepted Rings of Power from Sauron (only three of whom were Numenoreans) “became mighty in their day, kings, sorcerors, and warriors of old” before they finally succumbed to the Rings and faded; the hill-men who seized control of Rhudaur (or the evil Men the Witch-king sent to replace them) appear to have practiced sorcery; and the Mouth of Sauron was a sorceror (although he was a Numenorean).
The sorcery of Men must be diverse. Tolkien speaks of Men attempting to communicate with Elvish spirits. When the Elves faded their bodies vanished. Those who were so enamored of Middle-earth they would rather fade than sail over Sea were likely to become “haunts”, spirits dwelling in or near a favorite place. If discovered by Men they might respond to certain sorcerous stimuli, but they were perilous for Men to deal with. The spirits might seek to occupy the bodies of the Men and eject the native spirits, which were weaker by nature or youthfulness. Such acts might not be so much derived of malice as of desperation. Elves were as desperate to live in Middle-earth as Men, but they like Men had a doom which limited their time in Biological Life.
Other sorceries Men might practice included the control of animals. Beruthiel, wife of Tarannon Falastur, was originally a Black Numenorean princess. She learned the arts of sorcery from her people and practiced them in Gondor. Her cats were legendary for their devotion to their mistress and her uses of them to spy upon the people of the realm. Tarannon lived in a great house by the Sea at Pelargir, but Beruthiel preferred to live in a house on the great bridge of Osgiliath. She filled the garden with twisted and mis-shapen trees and plants, and she so terrorized the Dunedain that Tarannon was eventually forced to remove her forcibly and send her into exile. She was last seen sailing alone on a ship southwards past Umbar, accompanied only by her cats, one at the prow and one at the stern.
If magic in some form is available to Men, it is no less available to Dwarves, the adopted Children of Il*vatar. They, too, are Incarnates — spirits dwelling in living bodies, ultimately sent by Il*vatar. Like the Elves the Dwarves are bound within E and must remain in Arda until the End. Like the Men their bodies weaken, grow old, and die naturally. The Dwarves are a curious blend of the Elvish and Human traits of the Children, but they have their own ideas about their place in E and Il*vatar’s plans. Like Men the Dwarves use spells but they seem to practice a sub-creational faculty similar to that of the Elves.
What does Tolkien mean by “sub-creation”? He applies it to the natural means by which the Ainur and Elves achieve their Artistic ends. It is through sub-creation that that Ainur bring to completion or near completion the shape and form of the World. Through sub-creation the Ainur bring forth the Kelvar and Olvar. Through sub-creation the Elves devise the Silmarils, the Rings of Power, and all the “magical” things of their society. Through sub-creation the Dwarves produce their magical doors, lamps, and armor.
The sub-creative process is not described as anything other than Art. But Tolkien invokes the motif of song throughout his works. The Ainur sing their great themes and from these Il*vatar devises Ea. In the myth of the Two Trees, after the Valar have withdrawn before Melkor’s onslought to the Uttermost West, Yavanna sings before the mound Ezellohar, causing the Trees to form as seeds, take root, and grow. In his contest of power with Sauron, the Elven-king Finrod Felagund sings songs of wizardry and sorcery, and Sauron sings in reply. Luthien, while trapped in the Hirilorn by her father, sings to make her hair grow long enough for her to weave an enchanted cloak of darkness from it. The Dwarves sing in their smithies as they create their great artifacts. Aragorn sings or chants softly over the Morgul-blade he finds on Weathertop, as he prepares to engage in what healing he can attempt on behalf of the grievously wounded Frodo.
Tom Bombadil sings all the time, and he uses song to deal with Old Man Willow and the Barrow-wight:
“Setting down his lillies carefully on the grass, he ran to the tree. There he saw Merry’s feet sticking out — the rest had already been drawn further inside. Tom put his mouth to the crack and began singing into it in a low voice. They could not catch the words but evidently Merry was aroused. His legs began to kick. Tom sprang away, and breaking off a hanging branch smote the side of the willow with it. ‘You let them out again, Old Man Willow!’ he said. ‘What be you a-thinking of? You should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water! Go to sleep! Bombadil is talking!’ He then seized Merry’s feet and drew him out of the suddenly widening crack.”
(Tolkien, “Fellowship”, p. 131)
And:
“Get out, you old Wight! Vanish in the sunlight!
Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing,
Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains!
Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty!
Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,
Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended.”
(Ibid., pp. 153-4)
To summon him in their need, Bombadil teaches the Hobbits to sing a song:
“Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!
By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,
By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!
Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!”
(Ibid.)
Tolkien tells us that “Hobbits have never, in fact, studied magic of any kind” and that “there is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietlyand quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along”. But he doesn’t say they cannot use magic — they simply don’t wish to. Bombadil’s song shows us that Hobbits can indeed call upon a greater power for help. The magic may be Bombadil’s, but it is Frodo who sings the song of summoning.
Song permeates the accounts of Middle-earth’s “magic”. It is not a part of every scene (”The Mirror of Galadriel” is conspicuous by the absence of singing in Galadriel’s encounter with Sam and Frodo in her garden). But then, it may be that magic is more subtly invoked if an external source of power is used. Galadriel’s mirror consists of water drawn from a nearby spring and poured into a silver basin. Tolkien noted that water and silver were not very tainted with Morgoth’s power, but Ulmo is the Lord of Waters and he was the source of many dreams and visions for Men and Elves. Could it be that Galadriel was drawing upon the power of Ulmo to work her magical mirror?
The relationship of the Elves with the Valar should be closely examined. The Vanyar, Noldor, and Teleri of Alqualonde (the Light-elves, Deep-elves, and Sea-elves of THE HOBBIT) passed over Sea to live with the Valar and learn from them. Those Elves who had lived in the Blessed Realm, Gandalf told Frodo, possessed great power against both the Seen and the Unseen, and lived at once in both worlds. The Seen (the visible World, of which the Kelvar, Olvar, and the physical bodies of Ainur, Elves, Men, and Dwarves are a part) and the Unseen (the invisible World, of which only the spirits of the living beings are part, and not things like the Kelvar and Olvar) are two sides of the same coin. But it requires different magic or power to deal with either of them.
Among the practices of the Eldar we find the singing of hymns to Elbereth, Varda, highest Queen among the Valar, spouse of Manwe the Elder King, Ruler of Arda. Although the hymns are mostly reverential, their influence on other people may be considerable.
Aiya E rendil Elenion Ancalima! Frodo cries when he brings out the phial of Galadriel in the lair of Shelob. By some power he cannot fathom the bright phial, which contains light captured from the Star of E rendil, the last of the Silmarils, protects Frodo and Sam against Shelob. She hovers fearfully in the dark.
When Sam is struggling to win past the Watchers of Cirith Ungol, he draws out the phial and holds it up, and for a moment the mysterious spirits give way before him. On leaving the fortress Sam and Frodo are confounded by the Watchers again, and Sam cries out, Gilthoniel! A Elbereth! In turn Frodo speaks, Aiya elenion ancalima! And with that “the will of the Watchers was broken with a suddenness like the snapping of a cord”. Did the name of Elbereth bring down her sudden awareness, strengthening the potency of the phial? Or was it enough that Frodo spoke the same words which had come to him unbidden in the lair of Shelob?
The invocation of the Valar should not be lightly disregarded. Perhaps it is nothing more than due reverence, a sign of respect. When he crowns Aragorn Gandalf says, “Now come the days of the King, and may they be blessed while the thrones of the Valar endure!” Aragorn’s days must seem blessed indeed: Arnor and Gondor are restored to greatness, and he succeeds in the wars which follow the War of the Ring (or at least is not slain in them), and in due time he gladly gives up his life without reluctance or the stain of the fear of death which had troubled so many of his forebears.