In the sacrament, we receive an earnest of that future promise here and now in the body and blood of Jesus given and shed for us.
For most readers, the encounter with J.R.R. Tolkien’s world of Middle-Earth begins with the first chapter of The Hobbit or perhaps with The Fellowship of the Ring, the first volume in his epic tale, The Lord of the Rings. But for Tolkien himself, the first bits of fiction that would develop into his best-selling masterpieces were posthumously published by his son Christopher as The Book of Lost Tales. These first chapters were written in blue pencil in a cheap notebook while Tolkien convalesced at a military hospital in Great Haywood, England in 1917. [1]
Tolkien, a young officer in the Lancashire Fusiliers, had contracted a serious case of trench fever while serving in France during some of the most brutal combat of the First World War. In the trenches, Tolkien had literally seen the gates of hell open before him, as years of nationalistic hubris exploded into an apocalyptic slaughter of humanity. While recuperating in hospital, Tolkien was joined by his wife Edith, to whom he had been married less than a year, but whom he had known far longer. As Edith tended her husband at his bedside, Tolkien dictated to her the first narratives of what would begin as The Book of Lost Tales, later grow into the Silmarillion, and ultimately provide the background and inspiration for his most popular epic, The Lord of the Rings. [2]
In the last few decades, there has been much written on Tolkien’s Christian faith and how it may be detected in The Lord of the Rings. [3] In this most famous of Tolkien’s stories, an innocent person, Frodo, sacrifices himself for the sake of the world. Events are seen as guided by a seldom mentioned but omnipresent providence. The protagonists in the epic are miraculously sustained by wafers of bread that give them life. Tolkien, a devout Roman Catholic, admitted the Christian inspiration for his fiction. “The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision.” [4]
Tolkien wrote in his essay, “On Fairy Stories,” that it is an important aspect of the vocation of a Christian author—and a reflection of that author’s being created in God’s image—to “sub-create” fictional works in which the truth of God revealed in Christ would shine through.
Although Tolkien abhorred allegory, he deeply loved religious symbolism in literary works and consciously wrote them into his own epics. In fact, in 1947, Tolkien wrote in his essay, “On Fairy Stories,” that it is an important aspect of the vocation of a Christian author—and a reflection of that author’s being created in God’s image—to “sub-create” fictional works in which the truth of God revealed in Christ would shine through. Such sub-creative writing, said Tolkien, serves to proclaim the Gospel, the saving evangelium that by his incarnation, death, and resurrection, Jesus Christ has conquered and, indeed reversed, the powers of sin, death, and Satan. [5] The calling of the Christian writer is thus to convey a “far-off gleam of the Gospel” in his writing. [6] Certainly, many have discerned that gleam in The Lord of the Ring. But it started first in the first chapter of The Book of Lost Tales, which Tolkien composed in his hospital bed with his beloved Edith by his side. In “The Cottage of Lost Play,” Christian symbolism is unmistakable as is the Gospel message that shines through.
Although Tolkien first dictated to Edith the tale known as the “Fall of Gondolin,” [7] he later placed “The Cottage of Lost Play” as the first of the Lost Tales. This tale recounts how a young wandering traveling mariner named Eriol comes upon a cottage of elves where he would like to rest a while. At this cottage, Eriol hears many fantastic tales of how the world got to be the way it is today, from the time of creation, to the fall, and many large-scale wars and personal sorrows that have transpired since.
Eriol is weary from wandering and wants nothing more in life than to find a place to rest with sustaining food, to enjoy the fellowship of being in community with others, and to hear good tales. As he thinks this to himself, Eriol stumbles upon a small white cottage with a thatched roof. He knocks on the door, and is invited inside by the elves. At first, Eriol is afraid he will not fit in the door of the cottage, for the home is very small. He thinks he will have to become small to cross the threshold. [8]
And that is exactly what happens. The instant that Eriol enters, he becomes smaller and the cottage itself opens into a huge expanse. Fortunately for the weary and hungry wanderer, he is just in time for supper. A gong sounds and elf children run out from rooms around the cottage into a great dining room named “the Hall of Play Regained.” [9]
As the children enter, they carry candles and other items. These strange objects are set on the table, and it seems to Eriol that “a new world and very fair” opens up to him. The company sings a special song as the food enters and is placed on the table. Then, the host of the feast, Lindo, takes his place at the table and, before all are seated, he blesses both the food on the table and those assembled before it. [10]
Cups are brought forth and shared among those gathered. These cups, Lindo explains, hold a drink called limpë. This liquid is heavenly wine from the celestial land of the Valar (i.e. angels) that keeps those who partake of it in eternal youth and always full of song. The cup is to be drunk by the elves until a coming time of renewal. [11]
After dinner, the elves lead Eriol into another great hall where he is invited to sit on cushions in front of a huge, roaring fire and hear tales that he has never before heard. Lindo and Vairë tell him and all gathered of the creation of the world, its fall, and subsequent events. These tales make up the remainder of both volumes of The Book of Lost Tales. [12]
The Christian symbolism is unmistakable: Eriol is a wanderer. He is without a home and community. He is lost. Then he finds welcome, shelter, sustenance, and fellowship in the Cottage of Lost Play.
“The Cottage of Lost Play” reminds us of the Church wherein we enter as little children and find a welcome with others who have come from wandering lost in the world.
Eriol enters the cottage by becoming small. Indeed, he becomes like a child and joins other children in the cottage. Although there is no font where Eriol is baptized, the scene brings to mind the words of our Lord: “Unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 18:3). “The Cottage of Lost Play” reminds us of the Church wherein we enter as little children and find a welcome with others who have come from wandering lost in the world.
The symbolism in the supper scene is even more overt. The table is set with objects that are unfamiliar to Eriol. A particular song (one would even deign to say a hymn) is sung while the table is set. The host of the feast blesses the food and those who eat it. The wine of the meal gives eternal life.
The similarity of this supper to the Supper, the Lord’s Supper, is obvious. Knowing that Tolkien received this Supper daily, [13] one wonders if Tolkien really has made the leap from symbolism to a direct allegory.
Less clear than the sacramental overtones of the supper served in “The Cottage of Lost Play” is the Gospel-oriented trajectory of the tale and of the cottage itself. However, the Gospel promise of God’s reversal of sin and death and the restoration of all things through Jesus Christ remains under the surface. It’s there in the very names “Cottage of Lost Play” and “Hall of Play Restored.” As becomes clear later in the tales heard by Eriol, the cottage is so named because the creation has lost the goodness, innocence, and eternality with which God (named Illúvatar) made it. One day, there will be a reversal of this.
The reader can understand without too great a leap that the sacramental supper that is served in the Hall of Play Regained is a foretaste of the promised feast to come. As the meal hosted by Lindo gives sustenance to the weary traveler Eriol, in his Supper, our Lord Jesus strengthens our weakness and gives us his eternal life. That life still has a future fullness. For, one day, our Lord Jesus will return and put an end to all sin and reverse all of its evil effects. But in the sacrament, we receive an earnest of that future promise here and now in the body and blood of Jesus given and shed for us. Christ himself has promised us so in the true tale of his Gospel.
As he lay in that hospital bed in 1917, Tolkien still had a long way to go in the writing of his fiction. But the beginnings were there, and the beginnings were Christian through and through. In fact, in these beginnings, the Gospel is not so much a far-off gleam as it is a roaring fire of truth.
[1] Humphrey Carpenter, Tolkien: The Authorized Biography (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, Allen and Unwin, 1977), 92. Christopher Tolkien, in The Book of Lost Tales, Part 1, by J.R.R. Tolkien, ed. Christopher Tolkien (New York: Ballentine, 1983), 1.
[2] Carpenter, 95. Christopher Tolkien, Lost Tales, 1, xvii, 1.
[3] For an excellent collection of commentary on the Christian background of Tolkien’s life and work, see Tolkien: A Celebration, Collected Writings on a Literary Legacy, ed. Joseph Pierce (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1999).
[4] The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Humphrey Carpenter, with the assistance of Christopher Tolkien (New York: Houghton Mifflin, Allen and Unwin, 2000), 172. Tolkien wrote this in a letter to his friend Father Robert Murray, a Jesuit priest. Fr. Murray served as Tolkien’s confessor and later assisted at his funeral. Tolkien’s letter to Murray, dated December 1953, has the unabashed nature of a confession of faith.
[5] J.R.R. Tolkien, “On Fairy Stories,” in The Tolkien Reader (New York: Ballantine, 1966), 87-89.
[6] “On Fairy Stories,” 88. Quoted by Fr. Murray in “J.R.R. Tokien and the Art of the Parable,” a sermon he preached for a conference on Tokien’s Christianity, in Tolkien: A Celebration, 50. See also Colin Gunton, “A Far-Off Gleam of the Gospel: Salvation in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings,” in Tolkien: A Celebration, 124-140.
[7] Carpenter, 95.
[8] Lost Tales 1, 3.
[9] Lost Tales 1, 4.
[10] Lost Tales 1, 4.
[11] Lost Tales 1, 5-6.
[12] Lost Tales 1, 6-7
[13] Carpenter, 115. When he lived in Oxford, Tolkien received the sacrament each morning at St. Aloysius Church and brought his sons with him. Later in life, Tolkien counseled his adult son Michael that the best thing to strengthen his “sagging faith” was “frequent reception” of Holy Communion. The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, 338.
