Part 2 – An interview with Dan Cruver and John Pletcher
With this two-part, interview-style article, authors Dan Cruver and John Pletcher dialog regarding J.R.R. Tolkien’s unique use of the music and the water.
In Part 1 they discussed a few of their favorite scenes where Tolkien includes the great trifecta of water, music, and trees. And they dove into some discussion about the unique role that music played in the creation of Middle-earth, as revealed in The Silmarillion.
Enjoy their interaction now, as they share insights and banter about a couple more questions!
1. Tolkien claimed that in years to come, the original music theme could still be heard in flowing, rushing water. What do you think he was saying?
John:
Specifically, Tolkien shared this idea—in The Silmarillion—as Arda, the Earth, was being framed and filled out. We are told that the Ainur looked upon the creation and
. . . of all these water they most greatly praised. And it is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance else that is in this earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.
It’s rather intriguing to realize how the spotlight turns onto water. They praised water! Tolkien proceeds to tell us of Ulmo, the Ainu whose expertise was water, “and of all most deeply was he instructed by Ilúvatar in music.” So, we see this ongoing connection of the water and the music as Arda-Earth takes on greater texture and detail.
Dan:
I agree! If we are to understand the connection between water and music, Ulmo is the key! And I think the significance of Ulmo’s charge to serve as the primary sub-creator of the waters through Music can be seen when he says:
Truly, Water is become now fairer than my heart imagined, neither had my secret thought conceived the snow-flake, nor in all my music was contained the falling of rain.
In the quotation above, it seems to me that water’s varied forms—from the beauty of a single snow-flake to the tenderness of a gentle falling rain—means that of all things within the natural world, water is best suited to capture something both of the crescendo that bridges the third and fourth movements of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and of the tranquility of Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie No.1. If we are looking for something within creation that can possibly be an appropriate echo of Music’s breadth and depth of expression, I believe we find it in water.
John:
That’s fascinating to consider, Dan. Certainly, what you are referencing can be heard in the haunting, moving, inspiring sounds that emanate from Eurielle’s voice. Our readers will really enjoy listening to your interview with her as well as downloading some of her music. The sound is breathtaking!
And this all reminds me how Tolkien details the coming of the Elves:
By the starlit mere of Cuiviénen, Water of Awakening, they rose from the sleep of Ilúvatar . . . Many waters flowed down thither from heights in the east, and the first sound that was heard by the Elves was the sound of water flowing, and the sound of water flowing over stone. Long they dwelt in their first home by the water under stars, and they walked the earth in wonder; and they began to make speech . . .
Tolkien then tells us of the arrival of one of the Valar, the mighty hunter, Oromë. Atop his horse, Nahar, Oromë sat silent and listened, “and it seemed to him that in the quiet of the land under the stars he heard afar off many voices singing” (The Silmarillion, 45-46).
I guess it should not really surprise us that later in Middle-earth, in both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, the Elves and places Elves live are known for beautiful songs. And such music often flows in tandem with rushing water and marvelous trees, like we encounter throughout Lothlorien and Rivendell. I can’t help but realize—oh wow—this is so cool to consider. I’m now thinking about several marvelous moments where the sound of water— at times the combo of both water and music—shows up. Tolkien takes great joy at painting his scenes with such beautiful blend and echo in very meaningful ways all throughout his tales. It’s really stunning to watch for and underscore in your heart and mind.
2. What might be some everyday implications and points of applicability for us today as we interact with the music and the water? How can we be moved in everyday life?
Dan:
I love something that Bilbo says to Frodo in passing about the Elvish appetite for music and poetry. He says, “They seem to like them as much as food, or more.” There’s something very nourishing about music and poetry. Whenever I listen to great music and read well-written poetry, I feel enriched and ennobled. I grew up in the home of professional musicians, so I was exposed to great music constantly. It’s one of the main reasons I think of my childhood as happy, even though our family went through some really difficult times. My childhood was happy, in large measure, because beautiful music was never absent from our home.
So, if it’s some soul-enrichment you’re after, why not spend 30 minutes a few evenings a week listening to a piece like Chopin’s Nocturne No.2, Op.9? I also grew up on the likes of Jazz pianist Bill Evans. If you want a little soul-nourishment from his playing, listen to Peace Piece. It’s gorgeous.
John:
That’s a really good stretch, Dan, encouraging us to try out some soul-drenching Classical and Jazz. I like that a lot, but perhaps classical music and Jazz really aren’t someone’s cup of tea. We all have different musical tastes, so no worries. I find there are certain genres and artists—even in current pop culture music—that produce some moving material. There are indeed winsome ones who create music with immense complexity, layers of sound plus lyrics that supply reflections of deep longing.
I am thinking of just a few examples like Coldplay and Adele. Even certain Country artists. (Ahem. Choke-choke. Must confess, I am not a Country music fan, but my middle son, a really creative young man, is one big fan.) Often, their music expresses how humans are longing down deep for love, a sense of justice, and often some greater sense of purpose. Even brushes with the Divine.
I personally find certain Broadway scores to be very moving and encouraging. I also enjoy some faith-rooted artists, including the likes of Andrew Peterson and Sleeping At Last. If I listen close enough to analyze the tones, textures, and poetic lyrics, I often discover there are indeed those longings. In Sleeping At Last’s song “Mercury,” they talk about how we need “pulled into tune.” The Music, especially the truly great music, has a way of doing that if we really listen. Along the way, we can even hear redemptive story threads that prove inspiring and compelling.
We might even say this in some sense echoes what Tolkien was saying in that portion we referenced earlier. Consider it again: “. . . and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.” Sometimes we’re listening—we know not for what. Our longing is real. And deep echoes of both the longing and fulfillment might be found through the music and the water.
Beyond musical appreciation of various genre, don’t forget, that original scene from the Hobbit we were talking about earlier comes in a chapter titled “A Short Rest.” It strikes me that the blend of water, music, and trees can be a big contributor toward recovery, restoration, and renewal for us today.
There’s one of my favorite scenes that models this so well. When Frodo woke up in Rivendell in the beginning of Book II, we read: “He lay a little while longer looking at patches of sunlight on the wall, and listening to the sound of a waterfall” (The Fellowship, 265). What a simple little inclusion, but I can almost hear the water rushing just outside the window, like I’m right there in the room with Frodo.
Several pages later, upon Sam and Frodo’s meet-up, Sam spoke of the grandeur of the house. He exclaimed: “Elves here, and Elves there! Some like kings, terrible and splendid; and some as merry as children. And the music and the singing—not that I have had the time or the heart for much listening since we got here.” A few lines later, we gain further scene description of Rivendell. Tolkien shares: “The sound of running and falling water was loud, and the evening was filled with the faint scent of trees and flowers, as if summer still lingered in Elrond’s gardens (The Fellowship, 272-273). There is that grand trio—the water, music, and trees—we’ve been talking about.
So, I am very moved by how it seems that this echo of the music is somehow restorative and rejuvenating. In fact, Bilbo summed it up, rehearsing the glories of the Last Homely House. He described it as ‘a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all’. Then Tolkien supplied narrator’s commentary: “Merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear, and sadness.”
In the past several years, our family has found immense joy in going hiking. And we love to find trails with plentiful old trees and streams that include sections of rushing water. And of course, we go crazy when we encounter the sound and beauty of waterfalls. I have personally found such encounters to be gloriously restorative, stress-reducing, and joy-producing.
Dan:
Great insights, John. They reminded me of another scene that illustrates the importance of water in Tolkien’s legendarium, and in it Tolkien pairs together water and music once again. Notice especially the words I italicized.
‘Here is Nimrodel!’ said Legolas. ‘Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, and still we sing them in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary.’ He went forward and climbed down the deep-cloven bank and stepped into the stream.
‘Follow me!’ he cried. ‘The water is not deep. Let us wade across! On the further bank we can rest, and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief.’
One by one they climbed down and followed Legolas. For a moment Frodo stood near the brink and let the water flow over his tired feet. It was cold but its touch was clean, and as he went on and it mounted to his knees, he felt that the strain of travel and all weariness was washed from his limbs.
As I read that scene, I feel something of the “magical” quality of water in the words. Simply reading it refreshes me. Such is the ability of Tolkien as a creator of worlds and words.
John:
This has been fun, Dan, really fun to toss around reflections. I’ll wrap us up with just one more of my favorite spots where Tolkien combines water and music. After Gwaihir came to the rescue and swept up Frodo and Sam, then Sam surprisingly encountered Gandalf in Ithilien. Sam was deeply moved and famously asked if everything sad is going to come untrue. Then we read:
‘A great Shadow has departed,’ said Gandalf, and then he laughed, and the sound was like music, or like water in a parched land; and as he listened the thought came to Sam that he had not heard laughter, the pure sound of merriment, for days upon days without count. It fell upon his ears like the echo of all the joys he had ever known (The Return of the King, 255 in the Ballentine paperback).
Gandalf’s words and laughter sounded like music or like water. For Tolkien, the two were virtually inseparable and joyously restorative.
Let’s make sure in these coming days, we all listen and enjoy the music, the water, and the trees in ever-increasing doses. They are oh-so-good for our souls!
1. Tolkien claimed that in years to come, the original music theme could still be heard in flowing, rushing water. What do you think he was saying?
John:
Specifically, Tolkien shared this idea—in The Silmarillion—as Arda, the Earth, was being framed and filled out. We are told that the Ainur looked upon the creation and
. . . of all these water they most greatly praised. And it is said by the Eldar that in water there lives yet the echo of the Music of the Ainur more than in any substance else that is in this earth; and many of the Children of Ilúvatar hearken still unsated to the voices of the Sea, and yet know not for what they listen.
It’s rather intriguing to realize how the spotlight turns onto water. They praised water! Tolkien proceeds to tell us of Ulmo, the Ainu whose expertise was water, “and of all most deeply was he instructed by Ilúvatar in music.” So, we see this ongoing connection of the water and the music as Arda-Earth takes on greater texture and detail.
Dan:
I agree! If we are to understand the connection between water and music, Ulmo is the key! And I think the significance of Ulmo’s charge to serve as the primary sub-creator of the waters through Music can be seen when he says:
Truly, Water is become now fairer than my heart imagined, neither had my secret thought conceived the snow-flake, nor in all my music was contained the falling of rain.
In the quotation above, it seems to me that water’s varied forms—from the beauty of a single snow-flake to the tenderness of a gentle falling rain—means that of all things within the natural world, water is best suited to capture something both of the crescendo that bridges the third and fourth movements of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony and of the tranquility of Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie No.1…
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