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EARENDEL, BRIGHTEST OF ANGELS

Actually I know something both of this poem and of the source materials from which it arose. Earendil actually refers to the angel Earendel from the Advent Lyrics of Crist (Christ) in the Exeter Book. That was Tolkien’s real source material for the Flying Mariner who sailed the Silmaril upon his shining brow.

 

Eala Earendel engla beorhtast

ofer middengeard (as the Anglo-Saxons called Middle Earth, our Earth, and similar to what the Vikings called Constantinople, Miklagarð) monnum sended…

 

Still, the article is interesting in some background sense.

Birth of a new world: the Tolkien poem that marks the genesis of Middle-earth

On this day in September 1914, as war broke out, Tolkien created the mythical land that led him to The Lord of the Rings. Here’s the story of the poem that changed his life

Mordor, he wrote: how the Black Country inspired Tolkien’s badlands

Martin Freeman in the film version of The Hobbit
Origin story … Martin Freeman in the film version of The Hobbit. Photograph: Warner Bros/AFP/Getty Images

A century ago today, Russian forces were beginning the 133-day siege of Przemyśl and the German army took Péronne. Meanwhile, in a Nottinghamshire farmhouse, a young man wrote a poem about a mariner who sails off the earth into the sky. The Voyage of Éarendel the Evening Star deserves its day in the spotlight alongside war commemorations. It was the founding moment of Middle-earth.

Neither elves nor hobbits were yet in JRR Tolkien’s mind. But the star mariner is remembered in The Lord of the Rings, as Eärendil, forefather of kings, whose light in a phial wards off Mordor’s darkness. In the vast backstory of The Silmarillion, he carries the last Silmaril, a jewel preserving unsullied Edenic light, seeking aid against the primal Dark Lord.

None of this is in Tolkien’s poem from 24 September 1914. As an invented origin myth for the evening star, it is all energy and enigma:

Éarendel sprang up from the Ocean’s cup
In the gloom of the mid-world’s rim;
From the door of Night as a ray of light
Leapt over the twilight brim,
And launching his bark like a silver spark
From the golden-fading sand;
Down the sunlit breath of Day’s fiery Death
He sped from Westerland.

 

 

 

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