ARDA LORE

Lately I have been coming across short essays or notes devoted to the interpretation of various topics of Tolkien's world, and thought it might be refreshing to publish some of these in OH—to stimulate and provoke further discussion, I hope. So I decided to invent this new column for people who want to get their thoughts on a particular question out there for others to contemplate and respond to. Of course, this is one of the general goals for ALL of the articles in this journal; but not everyone has the time or inclination to flesh out an idea into a full-blown essay.

Hence, "Arda Lore" will be devoted exclusively to "work-in-progress." Its purpose is to raise perennial issues and pose interesting questions—not necessarily to resolve them. Submissions to this column should be short and sweet, but at the same time sufficiently documented (where relevant; e.g., with page citations from Tolkien's writings) for others to engage and respond to the question addressed.

 

CHRIS SEEMAN: WHAT DOES "CARN DÛM" MEAN?
I've recently acquired the Angmar module, and have been unconvinced at the explanation given by its authors as to the meaning of the place-name Carn Dûm (the Witch-king's stronghold). In the module, it is suggested that the name is a yoking together of caran (S. "red") with dûm (Kzd. "mansion, fortress"), and that the Dwarves were responsible for it.

Two points militate against this interpretation: 1) Dwarves, like any other speaking people in Tolkien's world, certainly had their own word for "red," and didn't need to borrow it from the Elves. Had they wanted to render "Red Fortress" into Sindarin, they could have easily done so (Carnost or Ost Garan); 2) the authors of the Angmar module were presumably thinking of the analogy of Khazad-dûm; yet, if Tolkien had intended such an analogy, why did he not hyphenate the name to make it clear that he was doing so (i.e., Carn-dûm)?

An alternative solution might run as follows: The Goldogrin dictionary supplies the form tum for "valley" (Cf. Sindarin Tumladen). Is it possible that, as the second element in a name, tum underwent a consonantal change to dûm, such that Carn Tûm > Carn Dûm? If so, then Carn Dûm would not mean "Red Fortress," but instead "Red Valley." The change in meaning would, of course, have significant implications for the topography of the site as imagined in the module.

Response by Patrick Wynne:
The form Carndoom ("Red Valley") and its flock of variants may be found in Return of the Shadow (p. 433, note 13). Doom ("valley") is probably just a spelling variant for dûm in the usual orthography—Cf. dúm ("vale") in Narodûm ("Red Vale") (ibid.), in which the first element is narw, naru (N. "red") (Lost Road: 374). Tolkien apparently intended the form to recall English "doom." The noun without lenition of the initial consonant may be the same as tum "deep valley, under or among hills," seen also in Tumladen ("the Level Vale") (Lost Road: 394), though I cannot account for the difference in vowel length.

Carndoom was originally the Elvish name of the Dimrill-dale. Its subsequent use as the name of the capital of the realm of Angmar makes sense—the first element in Angmar appears to be ang (S. "iron"), so Carn Dûm ("Red Vale") might be an appropriate name for a valley in a land rich in iron deposits. Note that if the second element is mar (Q. "home"), then this is another of those rare mixed forms.

Texts pertaining to this interpretation
[Gimli speaking] "'Yonder stands Barazinbar, the Redhorn, cruel Caradhras; and beyond him are Silvertine and Cloudyhead: Celebdil the White, and Fanuidhol the Grey, that we call Zirak-zigil and Bundushathûr. There the Misty Mountains divide, and between their arms lies the deep-shadowed valley which we cannot forget: Azanulbizar, the Dimrill Dale, which the Elves call Nanduhirion. (Fellowship of the Ring: 226)

"'Well, anyone who did look at the map,' said Gandalf, 'would see that away there stands Taragaer or Ruddyhorn, — that mountain with the red side. The Misty Mountains divide there and between their arms lies the land of Caron-dun the Red Valley..." (Return of the Shadow: 419)

"The name of the vale was first Carndoom the Red Valley; above was written Carondûn and Doon-Caron, but these were struck out. Elsewhere on this page is Narodûm = Red Vale; and the name in the text was corrected in red ink to Dimrill-dale: Nanduhiriath..." (Return of the Shadow: p. 433, n. 13)

 

WESLEY FRANK: WAS HARONDOR FORESTED?
As we "fill out" Tolkien's Middle-earth in the Iron Crown realm modules, a number of running controversies have sprung up. The following puts forth an argument for forest cover in the lands immediately south of the Ethir Anduin and the River Poros, on the borders of Gondor. In the new Southern Gondor module, the strip of land across the rivers from Lebennin and Harithilien is named Laergaladrín (S. "Summer-light's Memory"), and the hills rising beyond the river valleys, about ten leagues to the south, are the Emyn Annûn (S. "Hills of the Sunset") along the coast, and the Emyn Laer (S. "Hills of Summer") reaching inland to the Ephel Dúath. Beyond the Hills of Summer lies the dry, grassy plateau called the Aegardh (S. "Fell Region"), the heart of the old Gondorian province of Harondor. Somewhere between the Poros and the Harnen, north and south of Harondor, the pleasant lands of Gondor become the deserts of Near Harad.)

There are three important viewpoints involved in looking at the ground cover problem in this region. The first is J.R.R. Tolkien's, the second is Peter Fenlon's (ICE's primary map-artist), and the third is the readers of our modules.

Tolkien (like, I suspect, his cartographer-son) was a great lover of trees; he even wrote poems about them, and regretted that the wooded countryside of his youth was being "shabbily destroyed" by the development of its wooded landscape. He marked few woodlands on his maps; primarily, I believe, because it was of little interest to him outside of the specific areas he was discussing, but partly because it was not a custom in the kind of map he was using as a model.

Certainly neither J.R.R. Tolkien or his son Christopher. try to show all the physical details of the countryside on their maps. Indeed, big chunks of Middle-earth are blank spaces, because cluttering them up would simply have made the maps unreadable. A glance at the Atlas of Fantasy, or almost any nineteenth century map of England, or a map of World War I France (where Tolkien served) shows the kind of symbolism favored by Tolkien's contemporaries.

General ground cover tends to be left off political maps of western Europe; significant woodlots, groves, and forest preserves are included, because they have political or military significance. The reader of the time would know that these carefully marked forests are not the only woodlands in the area; they are just the interesting ones.

When Mr. Fenlon drew up his maps, he had to generate more information (for role playing purposes), use more color (for aesthetic reasons), and at the same time keep the maps readable and reminiscent of Tolkien's illustrations. In my writings I have assumed that, in order to accomplish all of this, he accepted Tolkien's old conventions, marking only significant or symbolic woodlands, and was not attempting to convince us that the entire area of his maps was bereft of trees and undergrowth.

Consequently, both of my modules (Arnor and The Shire) include a mix of ground cover in the lands of northwestern Middle-earth. In our own world, aside from semi-arid steppes, arid deserts, and rocky barrens, all temperate dry land is naturally forested. Keeping it unforested requires significant effort on the part of local populations. In northern Minnesota, where I was brought up, ungrazed grassland turns into brush thicket within a year or so after abandonment; it returns to dense, second-growth forest in a generation. This is in a country on the edge of the Great Plains, one that gets only twenty inches of rain in a year. Most of northwestern Middle-earth is positioned, relative to the sea, to get much more consistent rainfall than this.

A corollary of this situation occurs in hill and mountain country all through our temperate zones. The slopes of the hills are rarely plowed and generally gain more moisture from the ground and air then surrounding flat land, so they support trees even when the low country is farm or prairie. Tolkien, who was familiar with the Alps, certainly knew that the lower slopes of his mountain ranges would support extensive woodlands. I expect that he didn't show them because his map-making and artistic conventions did not require it. Ground cover was not what he was drawing.

The question, in the case of the Emyn Annûn and the Emyn Laer, is whether these hills support woodlands and, if so, do they do so in such a way that Mr. Fenlon would have to map them as forested. I would say yes to the first question and no to the second. The descriptions in Tolkien of Lebennin and Ithilien suggest a lush country, as well watered as any in southern Europe, but most often cleared for cultivation. Laergaladrín would be only marginally drier, but somewhere in Harondor there would have to be a "tree-line" where naturally forested lands fade out into steppes.

I chose to mark that boundary with the Emyn Laer and the Emyn Annûn. Like the coastal mountains of Anatolia, Iberia, and northern California, they are wooded on their seaward side, and also in their valleys and high knobs, but grassy on their landward side. The woods here would not be as dense as lands further north, but they would be continuous if not cleared for farmland. The locals, as long as their society was healthy, would cultivate them as a precious resource.

Given that trees are present, should they be mentioned? I would give that answer as an unqualified yes, because of the literal way these modules are read. I am generally careful to give a clear description of my landscapes because, in my experience, most people lack the geographical background to fill in the blanks themselves. If trees, hills, and ravines are present and not clearly indicated somewhere, most GMs or players assume a playing field as featureless as the map they are staring at.

If anyone thinks I am giving an overly lush view of the hill country, then by all means we can alter the description from "forested" to "lightly forested" or "wooded." However, there are barren hills aplenty in farther Harondor, where the desert begins, and no need for any more here on the borders of Gondor.

 

TOMMY MARTIN: WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO THE BLUE WIZARDS?
The East is a part of Middle-earth that is not written about too much. All we know about it is that there are Easterlings of different tribes, and that it is mostly an evil land. In fact, ICE put out a map in the Middle-earth Campaign Guide that divided this land into realms of the Nine Riders. It is helpful for GM's who want to give their characters a different atmosphere to adventure in. The first thing that should be taken into consideration is that the East is not a kind place.

The Istari are emissaries of the Valar that were sent to Middle-earth to balance things out, since Sauron was stirring again. Two of these newcomers were sent to the East and the South. Their names were Alatar and Pallando, and which one went where is not known. The only thing we have about them is that they were chosen by the Vala Oromë the Horseman. It seems most likely that these two became servants of Sauron.

A quote that backs this belief up is Tolkien's words on the two Blue Wizards: "I really do not know anything clearly about the other two, since they do not concern the history of the northwest. I think they went as emissaries to distant regions, East and South, far out of Númenórean range: missionaries to 'enemy-occupied' lands, as it were. What success they had I do not know; but I fear that they failed, as Saruman did, though doubtless in different ways; and I suspect they were founders or beginners of secret cults and 'magic' traditions that outlasted the fall of Sauron (Letters: ?)."

Now, their failure could be interpreted many ways. Maybe they blundered as Radagast did; they didn't do what they were sent to do. Instead of taking an interest in the speaking people and their politics, he chose to settle in Rhosgobel and tend to the Olvar and Kelvar. So, the Blue Wizards could have found it more intriguing to rule over people instead of helping them.

Elsewhere, Tolkien says, "Away in the (to these tales) uncharted East...are the countries and realms of wild or evil men, alike only in their hatred of the West, derived from their master Sauron...(Letters: 157)." As this passage states, there are evil men in the East who have the Dark Lord as their master. Tolkien also pointed out that the East in general is subject to Sauron; Tolkien didn't name specific places or people. No, the East in general is Sauronic in its beliefs (as in the United States, which is generally Christian in its philosophy—there are other religions that aren't Christian, but they're not the majority.)

If Alatar and Pallando had made cults that were against Sauron, I think they would have made a considerable impact in the East; yet Tolkien never says there was such opposition. I take it that their cults were in league with Sauron, and only added to the influence he had over these barbarians. Two Maiar would no doubt be a thorn in his side if they were against him. The Easterlings would have been divided among themselves and would have some sort of civil war, but there is no account of such an occurrence.

If a cult is defined as devoted attachment to, or extravagant admiration for, a person, principle, etc., then the Blue Wizards' cults could have been focused upon themselves, the Valar, or Sauron. Most likely, it was Sauron, and it would have been excessively flattering for him. If they would have revered the Valar, Sauron would have most likely have done away with them on the spot, which would possibly have led to civil war among the Easterlings. But, then again, there is no hint in Tolkien of such a thing.

A centering of worship upon themselves would also lead to the same fate, since this would make Sauron their opponent. No, they had to foster Sauronic cults. "The 'wizards' were not exempt, indeed being incarnate were more likely to stray, or err. Gandalf alone fully passes the tests, on a moral plane anyway... (Letters: 202)." Gandalf was the only Istar that did what he was supposed to. Saruman, Radagast, Alatar, and Pallando failed. Note that the quote says "on the moral plane," which implies relating to, serving, or teaching in accordance with the principles of right and wrong. Gandalf succeeded conscientiously, but the others (with the exception of Radagast) bungled in this regard; in other words, they went to the evil side.

Saruman, of course, turned corrupt and didn't turn back. It is not said whether the two Blue Wizards eventually saw that they were going down the wrong path and turned onto the right one. But there is proof that these two failed like Saruman and became baneful. If this is the case, then that would make the East and the South even more hazardous.

 

CHRIS SEEMAN: WHO IS "THE NECROMANCER?"
For the greater part of the Third Age, Sauron's existence was hidden under the alias of "the Necromancer of Dol Guldur." The Wise surmised that this mysterious figure might have been one of the Nazgûl, but apparently they didn't let on about their suspicions to anybody else, since the kings of Gondor and Arnor were incapable of perceiving any unified threat to themselves until c. TA 1940, and it was not until the Nine Ringwraiths actually manifested themselves in the invasion of Minas Ithil in 2000 that the Dúnedain figured out that the "Witch-king" was one of them.

One of the questions that has been vexing me lately is: When rumor came to the Gondorian kings that some guy called the Necromancer was their next-door neighbor in Rhovanion, how did they react? What was their perception of this personage, and how did their perception affect their frontier policy in that direction? Part of the answer to this question would depend on what the word "Necromancer" connoted to them, and that is what I want to give some thought to here.

Before considering the question, let's recall that while Tolkien may have used Necromancer in the generic, non-technical sense of an evil sorcerer (Hobbit: 121), he may also (if only after the fact) have returned to the name and given it some more specific meaning (as he did with the Istari, emphasizing the etymological connection between "wizard" and "wise"). Let us assume then, for the moment, that it is legitimate to look for a more exact sense for Necromancer. We are aided in this by the fact that Tolkien did not invent the word, and so he presumably used it (rather than some other term for sorcerer) to give Sauron's alias a distinctive shade.

The English form we are familiar with is cognate with Greek nekromantos, one who practices nekromanteia (nekros "dead" + manteia "divination, oracular utterance"). Manteia is a generic term for all kinds of prophetic and oracular arts (which were as common and accepted in Antiquity as television and news reports are for us today), so the qualifier nekro- indicates a more specific kind of activity: divination by means of communication with the spirits of the dead.

Without even considering the social context in which nekromanteia usually occurs, we can infer from the bare meaning of the word that it could only have originated with the Northmen of Rhovanion (and, more specifically, with the Woodmen, who would have been the first to have become aware of and suffer from Sauron's presence). Beliefs about communication with the deceased was not part of the worldview of Elves, Dwarves, or the Dúnedain. (I grant the exception of the Paths of the Dead, but at the moment we are speaking in terms of universal assumptions, rather than anomalies.)

This accords well with what is known about the (real-world) setting of necromancy; namely, that it occurs most often in the context of ancestor worship in societies dominated by kinship. The Woodmen fit the bill rather nicely. Given Tolkien's assumption that the Northmen of Rhovanion were related to the Edain that made it into Beleriand during the First Age, it may be interesting to note that when Túrin appears to the folk of Brethil after slaying Glaurung (and having been thought dead), they think that he was the unquiet spirit of Túrin, not yet departed from the world. By contrast, the later Dúnedain assumed (following the teachings of the Elves and Valar), that mortals departed the world irrevocably, unless constrained by inconceivably powerful magic (like the covenant stone of Erech, enhanced by the binding power of Isildur's oath).

So, if we assume that the Woodmen professed a belief that their dead ancestors could be communicated with, how is it that they would have attributed such powers to the strange new evil presence in Dol Guldur? Perhaps we could imagine that Amon Lanc (the hill that became known as Dol Guldur after Sauron built his tower there) was originally a burial site for the 1^st Age ancestors of the Woodmen. Sauron's occupation of the site prevented them from communing any longer with their ancestors' spirits; and, having no other explanation for why this evil had driven them out, the Woodmen assumed that he too (though for more wicked purposes) had chosen that site in order to communicate with (and probably dominate) the dead.

Once he became aware of the Woodmen's reaction, Sauron could then exploit it as a means of threatening them to do his bidding (or, more realistically, not to oppose his will in the Greenwood). Playing upon their religious beliefs, Sauron was in effect "holding their ancestors hostage." (As a footnote, another feature of Amon Lanc—as described in the MERP modules—that might strengthen this scenario is the fact that it is a volcano, a "gateway to the underworld" and the land of the dead in the minds of the Woodmen.)

Response by Anders Blixt:
Every Dúnadan "knows" that Sauron and the Úlairi perished a long time ago, so the Necromancer must obviously be something new and different—maybe some mysterious evil creature from the roots of Arda, creeping up to the surface through the Amon Lanc's dead chimney (cf. Gandalf telling of the horrors of the depths below Moria and the legends of Shelob).

 

STEFFEN SOLOMON: AND WHAT ABOUT THE WITCH-KING?
I am running my MERP campaign a few years before the Second Northern War of TA 1409. The players have several ideas as to who the "Necromancer" is—a powerful sorcerer from a distant land, a twisted Elf from the East, a lesser Maia (akin to Sauron, but much less powerful), or one of the Nazgûl (under the assumption of the diminishing legacy of Morgoth). Having placed myself in the shoes of the Wise (so to speak), all of these possibilities exist, but I imagine that, with information from spies and eyewitnesses, the "powerful foreign wizard" and "evil Elf" hypotheses would be discarded for the following reasons:

1) By TA 1640, the Witch-king has lasted close to 400 years. It would be considered by the Wise highly unlikely that a living man could, even with magic, extend his life that long.
2) Spies and eyewitnesses would report the powerful aura of dread, fear, and despair encountered by those who see or live near the Witch-king. The Wise would come to see this as a sign that the individual was a supernatural being, since no Elf-Lord ever had that kind of an aura.
3) Spies and eyewitnesses would give the extent of the Witch-king's empire—from Angmar to the far lands of the Sagath and Asdriag Easterlings; yet Angmar would be observed to be dependent on food and manpower imports. After four centuries, it becomes apparent to the Wise that Angmar's only true purpose is the destruction of the Dúnedain and Elves of Eriador. (While Angmar has not engaged in wars with Lindon, it has raided it a few times and, after 1375 it is said, Rivendell was besieged—most convenient for the attack in 1409.) So, the Witch-king has, most likely, some personal enmity with the Dúnedain and the Elves. The conclusion is that he must be one that experienced defeat at their hands, during the wars of either the Second Age or the First.

Of such defeated beings, the Elven-lords would know several lesser Maiar who had once served Morgoth or Sauron. Also, it is not made clear in Tolkien's account of the War of the Last Alliance that its survivors actually witnessed the passing of the Nazgûl into the shadows. I imagine that several Elven-lords (Elrond included) might have suspect that the wraiths managed to wander the world in hiding for several centuries, just as Sauron did in the early Second Age.

If we assume that the Wise and the Dúnadan kings knew that the Witch-king was a Nazgûl—even the chief Nazgûl—what would they do? In the Arnor module, it is suggested that the King of Arthedain adopted a defensive military stance, waiting out the war of attrition in the hopes that Providence would give a clue to the Witch-king's defeat via the stars or the visions of the seers. Certainly no army could march deep into Angmar and besiege Carn Dûm with any real hope of capturing and slaying the Witch-king. Perhaps, if he could be lured out into open combat on the fields of Arthedain.

Now, regarding the Necromancer, the Wise may have made several interesting observations. First, the Necromancer had not created a political empire with the goal of destroying any Mannish or Elven realm. Instead, the foul influence of the Necromancer spread through Mirkwood slowly, like a cancer. As a matter of (gaming) fact, the Wise could compare it to the effect that Blogath the Blood-wight had on the Yfelwyd in ICE's Dark Mage of Rhudaur, making the place a creepy den for foul creatures to breed.

Second, I believe Sauron would take every precaution that his actions occur through a third party. (E.g., the assassinations of wizards and other practitioners of magic would be carried out by a Gondorian cult or by Southron merchants who were in no way connected with Dol Guldur.)

Third, eyewitnesses would have described the master of Dol Guldur (Khamûl the Easterling) as an armored man with a fearful aura. These reports would sound similar to those of the Witch-king—perhaps another Nazgûl?

Fourth, I imagine that if Dol Guldur lent any manpower or material assistance to Angmar at any time, it would have been conducted under the pretense that the Witch-king was demanding tribute (e.g., by showing up publicly with a show of force). This would confuse the Wise as to the power hierarchy.

Finally, after TA 1981, when the Balrog of Moria is released by the Dwarves, the Wise would consider the possibility that a similar being could have been released by the Dwarves of Amon Lanc. Also, it is only after 1981 that Galadriel comes to Lothlórien and slowly begins to wrestle in spirit with Sauron; possibly his attempts to hide his spirit caused enough "static" before Galadriel began to recognize it's identity.

Whew! That was long winded! But I hope these ideas can provide a perspective of what the Wise know and do not know. I would agree, however, with the criticism that in several ICE modules Sauron's identity is considered public knowledge. Personally, I treat the Wise as only having the suspicion that Sauron MIGHT be present in the physical world after 2000, when several Nazgûl conquer Minas Ithil and then do nothing but hold it for several centuries—an important clue that there might be a Master Planner above the Witch-king (who was one of the four to occupy Minas Ithil).

Response by Wesley Frank:
Steffen has covered most of the arguments I considered when writing the sections of Arnor that deal with the Witch-king. Let us say that the Wise, in the time of Angmar's power, had made a pretty good guess as to the Witch-king's identity, but couldn't prove it beyond a "shadow" of a doubt, unless someone bagged him. After all, while he was certainly a wraith, he could well have been an impersonator.

In the case of the Necromancer, I would emphasize that no serious military threat was ever mounted from Dol Guldur until the forces of the Free Peoples were too weakened to attack the place. Sauron had resources collected there that he could not afford to lose. It also seems to me that he cast enchantments that took years of concentration and effort.

Response by Chris Seeman:
One thing that occurred to me in reading through the Angmar module was the prominence and visibility of Black Númenóreans among the ranks of the Witch-king's generals (i.e., the commanders most likely to be encountered in the field by the Dúnedain), as well as the Iron Sorcerer (the principal mediator between the Witch-king and his subjects). Finally, were Mûrazôr himself to wear his battle-helm in open war (as in TA 1409), it would probably not be too difficult for the loremasters of Arthedain to identify it as none other than Tar-Ciryatan's karma (at least, according to Mûrazôr's bio in the module).

This proliferation of Black Númenórean adversaries might have led the Dúnedain of Arnor to interpret their hatred in terms of a desire to avenge themselves for their ancient defeat in the War of the Last Alliance. This perception would then be reinforced by the presence of other old "Sauronic" allies among the Black Númenórean-led Angmarrim, like Orcs and Easterlings. The Dúnedain may have assumed that these ancient enemies had survived among the Númenórean colonies of the far eastern or southern coasts of Middle-earth.

Beyond this assumption, it seems to me that Dúnedain interpretations of Angmar's motives would be governed in a large part by the ideology of Angmarean religion (which, as I argued in my review of the module, would most certainly NOT have focused openly on the Necromancer of Dol Guldur—that would have been a dead giveaway that some "international conspiracy" was at work, and would have drawn far too much attention to the ever secretive Sauron). As far as I am aware, Tolkien never stated that the Black Númenóreans "worshipped" Sauron as distinct from Melkor—they certainly SERVED him as military allies (Sil: 293), but this was in continuity with their original connection to him via the Cult of Melkor (or whatever permutation of the cult that may have survived into the Third Age).

Somewhere in his Letters (I haven't got the page reference off-hand), Tolkien states that, upon his return from the Downfall of Númenor, Sauron claimed to be Melkor redivivus, and was worshipped as such—recall how Sauron defied the lightning sent by Manwë to destroy the Temple of Melkor "and in that hour men called him a god and did all that he would (Sil: 277)." It seems most likely to me, then, that the deity allegedly worshipped by the Witch-king and his minions was none other than Melkor (or, rather, Sauron-qua-Melkor, in whatever form(s) that worship might have assumed in a mid-Third Age context).

In the course of establishing his dominion, Mûrazôr and the Iron Sorcerer might have united their many allies and servants under a "messianic" theology, in which the destruction of the realms of Melkor's most hated foes was a necessary precondition for ushering in the return of their deity in power, the fulfillment of the cult's promises of immortality, and the like. Again, given the high visibility of the religious component of the Angmarean war machine (as described in the module), it would not be difficult for the spies and scouts of Arthedain to piece together a pretty clear picture of their enemy (at least, so far as Mûrazôr WANTED them to see it): Sauron's ancient servants have reunited under some powerful Black Númenórean league from out of the distant East and South, inspired by a revived Cult of Melkor that preaches the "cleansing" of their former master's principal enemies—the Eldar and the Elendili—as a step towards the hoped-for return of their god. As for the Witch-king himself, who knows? Perhaps a living man aided by some great sorcerous power or an undead wraith.

One further comment. Steffen's idea about Dol Guldur "paying tribute" to Angmar is brilliant! This is EXACTLY how Sauron would want the world to perceive it! However, given the already "high profile" of Angmar on the global scene (and Sauron's own imperative to stay hidden), I would tend to think he would want to avoid ANY evidence of contact between Dol Guldur and the North—especially since all of Angmar's basic needs were already being adequately met by trade and tribute from the East. Perhaps the "tribute" deception could be ready for use as a ruse, should any of their covert connections ever in fact be discovered.

Response by Steffen Solomon:
Thanks for thinking through on the Cult of Melkor. I was always uncomfortable with there being an active cult of Sauron, who would easily reckon that if the Wise and Kings heard his name brought up too often, they might sooner guess his return. However, I do imagine that he gained some power from some religious rituals, and that the symbol of the Red Eye acted as a rough "channel" to him. The Eye would not tip off his enemies because it was a quality of Sauron's appearance only after his return in the Third Age.

Now, I've given a little thought as to the reaction of the lords of Gondor to the presence of Angmar and Dol Guldur. Sadly, Angmar would be mostly seen as Arnor's problem, and Chris makes a very good point that Sauron would avoid making visible the connection between Angmar and Dol Guldur. If the kings of Gondor saw that there was a direct connection—even a tributary one—they would believe that Angmar had now come to their borders. This would trigger a powerful military response (and Sauron still feared them).

Now the lords of Gondor, through spies and conversing with Arnor, would initially suspect that Angmar was behind the westward advances of the Sagath and Asdriag peoples. However, as has been noted in the Riders of Rohan module and elsewhere, the Sagath and Asdriags were moving due to pressure from the people of Khand and Nûrad (Guided by the hand of Ûvatha the Horseman, I believe). So Gondor would attribute their aggression to "natural" causes—migrations and ambitions.

Gondor's southern neighbors would also be a cause for concern. Despite the taking of Umbar in the TA 900's, there would be continual raids and opposition from the tribesmen of the Haradwaith. Such raids would exist even without the eventual influence of Adûnaphel the Quiet. And, naturally, after the Kin-strife (which needed none of Sauron's influence to start), Gondor was preoccupied with this bitter enemy for centuries.

So, in conclusion, Gondor would likely view Dol Guldur as a strain upon its eastern roads/borders, but not as a direct invasionary threat. And Sauron would keep it that way. Occasional Orkish raids from Mirkwood would generate counter-raids by Gondor into Mirkwood, but Sauron would make certain never to antagonize the Gondorians too much nor to appear as a real threat.

Response by Chris Seeman:
My thought exactly. Gondor never extended its power into Mirkwood; and, as long as Sauron did not expand outward from the eaves of the forest, there would be little friction. Gondor was concerned primarily with the Vale of Anduin as an economic corridor (as evidenced by Rómendacil's building of the Argonath); in Gondorian eyes, southern Greenwood was originally "Elven territory"—hence, not to be messed with (like Lórien across the valley).

A brief caveat regarding Umbar and the Haradrim. Haradrim hostility between TA 1448 and 1940 was largely a function of the Haruze alliance with confederate Umbar, which (prior to 1940) was devoid of Black Númenórean influence. (Remember that the confederates of the Kin-strife were the "ultra-conservatives" among the Faithful in Gondor.) It's only with the final loss of Umbar in 1940 to "Sauron's minions" (the Haruze and the hitherto exiled Cult of Melkor) that the haven might have become a significant source of support for Angmar. Jason Beresford (the Umbar author) and I are currently debating the possibility that an Umbar-Angmar alignment during the final period of 1940-1975 might have been the key event provoking Gondorian/Arthadanian perception of "a single power and will" hostile to the Faithful survivors of Númenor.

Response by Steffen Solomon:
My note on how the Witch-king would appear to the Wise (that is, to the Elven-lords and Wizards) would not necessarily apply to Dúnadan perceptions. Individuals such as Elrond and Galadriel could see from experience that such longevity for humans was probably impossible. But remember, the tip off is the aura of fear that the Witch-king generated.

Also, the perceptions of the Dúnedain was colored by their desires and lack of personal experience in history. (Such beings as Nazgûl were legendary characters to them, whereas Elrond had probably met a few in Mordor.) I suspect that the Dúnedain would entertain the idea of Black Númenórean wizards discovering the key to immortality, because many of the Dúnedain themselves secretly desired this.

The estrangement between Elves and Men made it difficult for the Wise to truly get across their perceptions and guesses as to what was going on. The kings of Arthedain may have conversed with the Istari and Elrond, but may not have been wholly convinced of their arguments. (Note that Ponce de Leon got many of his men to follow him in the search for the Fountain of Youth in the wilderness of Florida, when he was actually looking for gold. What glitters more than gold? The promise of immortality!)

 

CHRIS PHEBY: WHAT IS THE NATURE OF MAGIC IN MIDDLE-EARTH?
In his article of Other Hands 10/11: 11-12, Dirk Brandherm suggested that we classify magic as "petty" spells (which require little effort to cast) or as words of command (which were symptomatic of spells of power). He also put forward some mechanisms for using these systems. His article failed to mention how rarely such powerful magics are practiced outside of the ministry of the Istari and Maiar. For the majority of Middle-earth's inhabitants, access to such knowledge and power is not even dreamed of. Indeed, where the practice of magic is known and accepted, cultural circumstances usually render the label of "magic" inappropriate (as in the example of the Elves of Lórien).

Magic in Middle-earth Role Playing faces a more complex stumbling block: that the majority of magic practiced (particularly in the Third Age) is characterized by a wide divide between cause and effect. Thus, Galadriel can use her mirror to see distant things (and perhaps influence them), as can Saruman with his palantír. The Elves can make enchanted cloaks, whose virtue of concealment need not be drawn upon immediately and not necessarily by their makers. The Dwarves can store magic in great artifacts, confident that their power will be used in a very different environment from their manufacture. The Great Rings are the epitome of magics imbued in objects intended for use after their manufacture.

From the viewpoint of a reader of Tolkien, this concept seems to make sense. To most of Middle-earth's inhabitants, magic is but a fairy-tale and cannot be practiced in public (a consideration that applies as much to the forces of evil as good—Sauron can be such a brooding distant figure, and Saruman likewise must rely upon an army rather than spells to further his tyrannical aims). This inaccessibility of magic helps to account for the proliferation of artifacts in Middle-earth; it also imbues the world with a sense of real, believable magic, and provides a clear physical law which magic must follow. It explains how, away from observation in their pits and dungeons, the lords of the world can work their power and exploit the labors of the past. Sauron is strongly tied to Mordor, since there he has already labored mightily in forging the foundations of his power. Similarly, the Elves are tied to their havens, in which reside the best part of their magics from the past.

Thus, when Gandalf sought to open the door of Moria through songs and simple incantations, he was merely seeking to unlock through his knowledge magic that was already present. A Word of Command, as Dirk identified it, would perhaps involve the use of a magician's own energy. A focus (such as a staff in this case) would serve to prevent some of the fallout resultant from such an expenditure of power. In effect, Gandalf had prepared his staff for a variety of uses—its creation, and hence the root of the words power, lie in the past, artificially separating cause and effect. Such foci are inefficient, and the toll of such magics remains terrible. (Gandalf rarely resorts to them.) In The Hobbit, when accosted by the wargs, Gandalf did not simply throw fireballs at the wolves; instead, he threw flaming pine-cones—once again, distinguishing cause and effect (the cause: the lighting of the pine-cones, the effect: a fireball).

This principle does not correspond to the style of magic-use implied by MERP. If PCs must plot out their magics in advance—and most role playing campaigns will last years at most, rarely decades—how are they to usefully apply them in a game? Is there any value in choosing to play a mage, when the skills of a ranger seem far more practical?

There are variety of solutions which preserve the sense that the world in which we adventure is a real world. As I have suggested, the setting of Middle-earth does not allow for the use of one's own power directly; but, channeled through foci, artifacts, prayers, and through the unlocking of secrets of the ancients, magic can play a part. With this thought in mind, magic becomes more a test of a character's knowledge and intuition than a question of magic. (E.G., Does he know the language and can he discover the word that unlocks the gate of Moria?) Words of Command and direct spells of power still play a part, but their use should be restricted. Great power is too corrupting, and should not needlessly be abused.

I have published two articles in Other Hands which reflect my views on this topic. My article in OH 1 examined the corrupting nature of magic, while that in OH 6/7 addressed the inevitable decline in magical power during the lifespan of its user. Generally, these two rule options would apply to Words of Command; although lesser magic might lead to limited corruption. Words of Command are prized and highly secret—it is thought that the Dwarven tongue Khuzdul holds many—and to discover a Word of Command could become the focus of an entire quest. Most characters in Middle-earth live out their lives in blissful ignorance of the existence of such words, and even of the most petty magics. Magic shouldn't be taken for granted in a Middle-earth game, but earned, treasured, and quested after.