“The Burnt Hand Teaches Most About Fire”: Applying Trauma Exposure and Ecological Frameworks to Narratives of Displacement and Resettlement Across Elven Cultures in Tolkien’s Middle-earth by UnnamedElement

Introduction

J.R.R. Tolkien created a world brimming with diverse peoples, races, and cultures, their development as inherently complex as the intricate histories and plots that underlie them. And, yet, there is no racial, ethnic, or cultural group untouched by the events set into motion by Melkor’s original discontent, which rippled across Arda in numerous forms, two of which are trauma and displacement. Refugee and migration narratives are key themes in Tolkien’s legendarium, with nearly everyone in Middle-earth experiencing some type of forced displacement, which—in the “real world”—is highly correlated with both trauma exposure and traumatic stress. Because these are concepts that Tolkien represents both explicitly and implicitly in his legendarium and personal histories, it is reasonable to apply them to his works.

Just as in refugee and trauma literature, memory dominates the narratives of Tolkien’s myths, as well as his personal and professional orientations. In a 1958 letter to Rhona Beare, he eschewed a purely theological interpretation of his works by stating they were “concerned with Death, and Immortality; and the 'escapes': serial longevity, and hoarding memory” (Letters, Letter 211, 284). In contrast to the issue of hoarded memory in the legendarium, in a letter to his son Christopher during World War II, Tolkien writes: “The utter stupid waste of war, not only material but moral and spiritual, is so staggering to those who have to endure it. […] But so short is human memory and so evanescent are its generations that in only about 30 years there will be few or no people with that direct experience which alone goes really to the heart. The burnt hand teaches most about fire” (Letters, Letter 64, 76). This balance of memory—the context of one’s experiences and the time and place in which one’s memories are made—and its useful application seems to have been important to Tolkien.

This paper will therefore combine trauma and social ecological frameworks to illuminate the ways in which textual evidence of trauma and migration may have affected cultural development in the three largest, remaining elven realms in Middle-earth at the end of the Third Age. By mapping modern conceptions of trauma and displacement onto Elrond (Imladris); Amroth and Galadriel (Lothlórien); and Oropher and Thranduil (Mirkwood), this essay will define ways in which individual and group-level experiences may have affected these leaders’ life outcomes, influencing the settings they created and the cultures in which they immersed themselves. At a time in our world in which displacement is occurring at one of the highest rates in recorded history, such an application may remind us of the eternal relevance of Tolkien’s work.

Theoretical Orientation

I will briefly review some of the theories and research informing this paper. (See Urie Broffenbrenner’s work for more information.) Social ecological models help researchers understand the individual in context (Lounsbury and Mitchell, 2009). The model situates the individual at the center of the system—containing family, community, society, institutions, and culture—as seen in the figure below. Individuals possess their own innate psychological or genetic inclinations, but the expression of those traits, their development, and experiences are affected also by the levels around them. However, the actions of the individual also bidirectionally influence the social ecological levels around them—nothing, therefore, is strictly independent. Timing and history are also important parts of the model: an individual will be differentially impacted by events and their environment depending on what time in life they are occurring. Time is also important at higher ecological levels. For example, a parent’s past experiences may impact behavior in the family unit. Societally, a history of conflict in the region may have a lasting impact on all other levels, including influences on individual belief and behavior.  In short, actions and choices are not only internal to individual beliefs and cognition but are also embedded in situation, context, and environment.

In psychological and clinical contexts, trauma is generally defined as “the experience [...] of events that are life-threatening or include a danger of injury so severe that a person is horrified, feels helpless, and experiences a psychophysiological alarm response” (Schauer, Neuner, and Elbert, 2005). In addition to direct threat to self, things like being surrounded by violence in a war zone or seeing dead bodies are considered traumatic events (International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies, 2021). Post-traumatic stress disorder and related disorders are characterized by re-experiencing the event, avoiding reminders of the event, experiencing negative changes to behavior and cognition, and hyperarousal and reactivity; complex PTSD may involve an inability to trust others and poor self-image (ISTSS, 2021).  Trauma exposure is also associated with anxiety and depression. Trauma and mental health generally function in a dose-effect response, meaning that the severity of symptoms correlates with the duration and number of traumatic events (Masten and Narayan, 2012).

Trauma exposure in Tolkien’s world has varied effects, something psychopathology calls “multifinality,” i.e., people may have similar experiences but end up with different outcomes (Luthar, Cicchetti, and Baker, 2000).^[1] For example—in contrast to pathological outcomes—trauma exposure can also be associated with resilience and post-traumatic growth. This might manifest as being better able to handle daily stress; being more likely to experience empathy; and being more likely than their peers without trauma to demonstrate compassion through service (Patel et al., 2017; Greenberg et al., 2018; Vollhardt and Staub, 2011). Emerging research suggests that people with a trauma history are more likely to volunteer with disadvantaged groups, and that a shared trauma type (e.g., natural disaster) increases prosocial behavior (Vollhardt and Staub, 2011).

Finally, intergenerational transmission of trauma is well-supported. It may be passed on through a number of mechanisms, like genetics, parenting behaviors, caregiver mental health, and risk environments (Isobel et al., 2018; Morelli et al., 2020; Bryant et al., 2018; Cobham and Newnham, 2020). This intergenerational influence is highlighted in Tolkien’s writing, with the Oath of Feanor and the Children of Húrin being prime examples. While Tolkien explicitly rejects trauma-related struggle and traumatic stress as a “moral failure” (Letters, Letter 246, 326), he nevertheless consistently positions the most noble response to trauma as one that turns the suffering of the self toward the service of others. Elrond is the best example of this conceptualization. In doing so, he is transformed from refugee to orphan to lord to humanitarian as an unintended result of his life experiences.

“Kind as Summer”: Elrond and Transformative Trauma[2]

Defining what Elrond is, culturally, is a challenge. His parentage tells us he could be considered Noldorin, Maiarin, Vanyarin, Sindarin, and man. Elrond and Elros were born in the Havens of Sirion among Sindarin and Noldorin refugees from both Gondolin and Doriath. Later, they were fostered for a time by Maglor.^[3] Elrond and Elros’ pedigree and cultural positioning have significance because of the emphasis placed on lineage and hierarchy in the legendarium. As seen in this figure, they have blood of the three Elven clans, the three houses of the mannish Edain, and then the Ainur, and they have extended periods of contact with ethnicities outside of their family. Such an ethnically complex backstory lends itself to a family history marked by the violence and migrations endemic to life in Middle-earth: their paternal and maternal lines reveal a history of constant trauma exposure and displacement. A detailed family trauma history and family tree are in Appendix A.

Elrond and Elros’s Early Life and Elrond’s Trauma-related History

Elrond and Elros were born at the Mouths of Sirion in F.A. 532. The Third Kinslaying occurred in F.A. 538, when they were six years old. Earendil was away and Elwing fled with the Silmaril. The majority of the refugees living in and around Sirion were killed, as well as a number of dissenting Feanorians. Elrond and Elros were taken in by one of the remaining sons of Feanor, for “Maglor took pity upon [the children], and he cherished them, and love grew after between them” (Silmarillion, 306). How long they spent with Maglor is unclear, but by F.A. 587, Maedhros had died and Maglor had disappeared forever.^[4] Meanwhile, the War of Wrath played out and Beleriand was destroyed, after which Elrond chose to live as an elf, and Elros chose the fate of Men. By Second Age (S.A.) 32 Elros became the first king of Numenor. Elrond was involved in several wars, including the Last Alliance, where he fought alongside many of his relatives and saw many of them fall. During the final attack on Barad-dûr, both Gil-galad (a potential mentor) and Elendil—a descendent of Elros—died while opposing Sauron. Soon Isildur would die, too, leaving his one remaining son Valandil in Elrond’s care.

Why Does This Matter?: Breaking the Cycle of Intergenerational Trauma

Why the emphasis on family history in a consideration of Elrond’s unique response to trauma? Family history matters, per Tolkien’s universe and research in human development. While some of Elrond’s sunnier life outcomes may be correlated with the timing of various retreats and his gaining of Vilya, his life is by no means unmarked by suffering—none of his family before him survived intact. For whatever reason—whether it was the love that grew between Maglor and the children, or the assumed comradeship he found with Gil-galad thereafter—something buffered Elrond from the fates of so many of his ancestors.

But there is more that makes Elrond’s legacy relevant. Elrond not only demonstrates remarkable resilience, but he cultivates compassion and lives it. Elrond and Elros’ early years were traumatic and chaotic—they were born refugees and, for a not insignificant amount of time, remained so. Nevertheless, both established realms of a sort. However, Elrond’s establishment of Imladris as a stronghold against Sauron around S.A. 1697 would prove to be somewhat more symbolic. Although Imladris was besieged, it became an intentionally constructed haven for displaced elves. Elven refugees flocked to Imladris and, eventually, Elrond used Vilya—gifted him by Gil-galad—to protect Imladris^[5] and make it the Last Homely House so familiar to readers.

From Sirion—a land of multiple peoples, races, and ethnicities, displaced and, then, destroyed together—to Imladris—a land of refugees from Beleriand and then Eregion, where all are welcome regardless of race or need—the peoples of Middle-earth persevere. And so, the burnt hand—and the burnt hands of Elrond’s diverse and storied kin—does, in fact, teach most about fire. In this case, the elves’ obsession with “hoarding memory'' is not a detriment. It is rather because of these memories that havens rise elsewhere, for Elrond is—first and foremost—a healer and a loremaster.  It is in that haven of Imladris that Elrond will foster and protect the sons of his brother’s line, and it will be the rejoining of these lines—with the history of his and Elros’ legacies stretched like a finally healed wound between them—that facilitates the reunification of Middle-earth.

Consequences of Resettlement: The “Sindarizing” of the “Wild,” “Lesser”[6] Elves by the Sindarin Princes and Noldorin Exiles of Beleriand

While Elrond constructed a new refuge and stronghold, the “Sindarin princes of the Silvan elves” resettled in already existing wood-elven regions East of the Mountains: Mirkwood and Lothlórien (UT, 270). Though the Sindar and Noldor who ultimately settled there were pushed to migrate due to the destruction of Beleriand, first, and the specific destruction of Eregion, second, their motivations for original migration were mixed. Whether due to trauma exposure or original cultural differences, linguistic clues suggest that settlement may have progressed differently in Lórien than in Mirkwood. This exploration demonstrates the potential effects of displacement across cultures.

Brief Contextual Overview

While this paper is not the place to explore the implied ethnic and cultural hierarchies within elves, this section does require consideration of the delineation between elves who did and did not successfully follow the original call to Valinor. Within Tolkien’s elven worlds,^[7] these hierarchies are governed by (a) proximity to Aman and the Valar and, within Middle-earth, (b) proximity to the Noldor, with the Nandor and then the Avari being most distant.^[8]  Characteristic phrases used to describe the Silvan and Avari are “lesser Elves,” “lesser Silvan race,” “wild,” “savage,” “rude and rustic,” and “more dangerous, less wise.”[9] Given this language, it would be both easy and defensible to take a strictly colonial lens to these relationships. However, in the contexts presented in this paper, it would be somewhat disingenuous. When people are violently displaced, they must resettle, and that is what this section of the paper seeks to understand. Lastly, I must acknowledge that information on everything having to do with the wood-elves and Galadriel is either scarce or contradictory. (See Appendix B.)

Language as a Cultural Indicator of Differing Resettlement Processes

In this section, language is the cultural indicator of differing resettlement processes. Even disparate fields of study regard language as intrinsic to ethnic and cultural identity. Loss of language is often associated with displacement and colonization. While language everywhere has power, language in Middle-earth is particularly symbolic, as Tolkien allegedly imagined language before world. Language in the legendarium is used both as an explicit cultural weapon (e.g., Thingol’s ban on the use of Quenya in Beleriand) and an assumptively implicit one, with Sindarin subsuming Nandorin in most regions by the end of the Third Age.^[10]

Social Ecological Models: Hypothesizing the Why

Because there is so little consistent information on elven resettlement, it is necessary to lean on the temporal and cultural aspects of our social ecological framework to understand the implied differences between Lothlórien and Mirkwood. While Galadriel was the first recorded to make contact with the Nandor, Amdír was king in Lórien and Oropher in Mirkwood.^[11][12] Both were, however, Sindarin, with at least Oropher and Thranduil explicitly originating in Doriath. It is therefore reasonable to make some assumptions about the impact of their experiences. In some of his last writings on Oropher and Thranduil, Tolkien explicitly writes that “they did not wish to be merged with the other Sindar of Beleriand [in Lórien], dominated by the Noldorin Exiles for whom the folk of Doriath had no great love” (UT, 272).^[13] The memory of elves is long and, for whatever reason, the Kinslayings at Doriath and Sirion seem to have been more salient to Oropher and Thranduil than to the eventual Sindar of Lórien.^[14]

The implied ethnic makeup of Lórien and Mirkwood may explain some differences in settlement behavior. While Tolkien describes Mirkwood as being almost entirely Silvan even after the Sindar’s resettlement, Lothlórien had far more Sindarin and Noldorin refugees from Eregion than did Mirkwood. Although there is conflicting information on Silvan language, one of Tolkien’s final philological writings explains that Oropher and the few Sindarin refugees with him assimilated entirely into Silvan culture, “adopting their language and taking names of Silvan form and style (UT, 272),” which we see in the name of Oropher’s grandson, Legolas, a “dialectical” form of the more traditional and “pure” Sindarin laegolas (Letters, Letter 211, 282).^[15] A 1972 letter states that the elves of Thranduil’s realm did not, in fact, speak Sindarin at all—as originally stated in the LotR appendices decades before—but a “related language or dialect” (Letters, Letter 347, 425). This is in contrast to the Silvans of Lórien, as another essay from the same time period declared the elves of Lórien all Sindarin-speakers (although the language they spoke amongst themselves might have been Silvan-influenced) (UT, 269).^[16]

Ultimately, the Sindar and Noldor of Lórien appear to have merged less with the native Silvan than did the Sindar of Mirkwood,^[17] though the perspectives of wood-elves themselves are woefully underrepresented in the legendarium. Apart from Legolas—who, regardless of his debatable “of a royal and originally Sindarin line” ancestry, self-identifies as Silvan (Letters, Letter 297, 382; emphasis mine)—and a few guards, the only truly Silvan perspective in all of Tolkien’s writings is that of Nimrodel, a Silvan Elf of Lórien. Nimrodel’s feelings on the Noldorin-Sindarin resettlement and the subsequent dilution of Silvan culture—even thousands of years after initial contact—provide insights into the disruption of native life in Lórien. Of her Tolkien writes: “She […] regretted the incoming of the Elves from the West, who (as she said) brought wars and destroyed the peace of old. She would speak only the Silvan tongue, even after it had fallen into disuse among the folk of Lórien” (UT, 252). Curiously, even though Amroth merges with Silvan culture (which he did “because of his love for Nimrodel,” [UT, 282]) and the name he uses is Silvan-influenced, there is a repeatedly stated loss of language in Lórien.

It is possible that diverse reasons for migration—outside of refugee-related flight—complicate these outcomes. While some of the Noldor returned to Valinor at the end of the First Age, some later settled in Lórien. However, Galadriel’s initial motivation for migrating from Valinor complicates matters, for she first thought to leave Valinor before any of the discontent. Later, though she swore no oaths, “the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled in her heart, for she yearned to see the wide unguarded lands and to rule there a realm at her own will” (Silmarillion, 93; emphasis mine). Upon arriving in Middle-earth, however, Galadriel missed Valinor and reminisced often. Still, she specifically eschewed some memories of the past, as when Melian pressed her about Alqualondë: “[T]hat woe is past,' said Galadriel; 'and I would take what joy is left here, untroubled by memory” (Silmarillion, 151).

However—like Oropher—Galadriel does not leave memory behind. When she does eventually settle permanently in Lórien, Tolkien wrote this: “[s]he had endeavoured to make Lórien a refuge and an island of peace and beauty, a memorial of ancient days” (UT, 265; emphasis mine). Further, Tolkien’s conception of the origin of the name “Lórien'' changes over time and across narrators. The original name of Lothlórien was allegedly “Lindórinand,” a word of Nandorin (Silvan) origin referencing the word they used to refer to themselves (in Nandorin, the Lindi) and roughly translating to "Vale of the Land of the Singers." Another possible Nandorin name for Lothlórien is “Lórinand,” or “Valley of Gold” (UT, 265)—whether this name emerged among the Silvan prior to or after contact is unclear. What is clear, however, is that at some point the “original and ancient Nandorin name of the region” was adapted, influenced by Sindarin and Quenya roots to form the names with which we are most familiar: Lórien and Lothlórien (UT, 265). Tolkien highlights the names’ post-contact connection to Valinor repeatedly; and Christopher Tolkien writes, “it emerges that all the later names [after contact] were probably due to Galadriel herself” (UT, 265).

While Galadriel’s power and experience as a High Elf is uncontestable,^[18] the influence of the Noldor in Lórien is undeniable. While Oropher and Thranduil’s experiences created memories that drove them to distance themselves from High Elven influence and thus preserve--even incidentally--the cultural identity of the native wood-elves, the impact of Amdír and Amroth’s experiences are unclear. Even experiences that might have resulted in similar cultural outcomes to Mirkwood leadership seem to have been mitigated by the influence of a larger Sindarin and Noldorin population in Lórien. While Galadriel demonstrates growth in regards to dominion during “The Mirror of Galadriel” chapter of The Fellowship of the Ring, her initial motivation for migration from Valinor to Middle-earth alters the sociohistorical setting and, thus, the lenses through which we approach Lórien’s culture. While Tolkien considered the High Elves the most noble of the Eldar,^[19] it is, arguably, the Silvan realm most uninfluenced by the Sindar and Noldor whose resettlement leads to the more noble treatment of the native folk.^[20]

Of course, like all things Tolkien, the cycle does not end there. Much like Elrond’s story, the legacy of elven Sundering, of violence and displacement, and of the increasing distance and isolation between the wood-elven realms is fated—by the end of the Third Age—to resolve. At the height of the War of the Ring, Celeborn and Galadriel fight the forces of evil in Dol Guldur in southern Mirkwood while Thranduil defends the North. Though Mirkwood burns despite victory, Celeborn and Thranduil meet to reunite the sundered woodland realms as Eryn Lasgalen and East Lórien, and the wood is lifted out of darkness. A few years later, when the preservation of Lórien crumbles—after Galadriel herself leaves for Valinor, after Celeborn moves to Imladris to live with Elrond’s sons—elves continue to make East Lórien (in the South of Mirkwood) and Eryn Lasgalen their homes. Meanwhile, even farther south, a son of Mirkwood (Legolas, who stood and survived with a descendent of Elros on that very field that felled his own grandfather millennia before) establishes a community of wood-elves in Gondor’s Ithilien—a community of service, where elves would work with dwarves and Men to heal a shared land, and to mend what was burnt.

Conclusion

 “[For stories to be successful,]” Tolkien once wrote, “there must be some relevance to the 'human situation' (of all periods)” (Letters, Letter 181, 233). Refugees, displacement narratives, and experiences of trauma in our contemporary world are just as relevant—and prevalent—today as they were when Tolkien was writing. While Tolkien routinely eschewed allegory, he never did applicability: “That there is no allegory,” he wrote, “does not, of course, say there is no applicability. There always is” (Letters, Letter 203, 262). From Elrond to Galadriel to Thranduil—through all their family trees and back again—I think it is safe to conclude that the burnt hand does, in fact, teach most about fire, even as embedded as each individual is in their cultural and historical contexts. 

[1] And given Tolkien’s own experiences with trauma exposure, this realistic reflection is unsurprising.

[2] The Hobbit, ‘A Short Rest,’ 60

[3]  What all this means is that we can say that Elrond had significant early influence from his parents; from whomever the other survivors of Doriath and Gondolin were at Sirion, including some groups of Men; and then also, at least briefly, from the sons of Feanor and their folk.

[4] Stepping back a moment, what separation from caregivers at fifty-five years old means to two Peredhil who are 62% non-Edain is unclear. Earendil and Elwing were 50% and 25% Mannish, respectively, and at 29 years old they were not only parents but leaders of their folk, which is significant, as the highly debated essay Laws and Customs Among the Eldar asserts that Eldar come of age around 50, and finish maturing by 100. Therefore, whether Elrond and Elros’ separation from caregivers would be considered markedly traumatic or particularly salient for identity and development at fifty-five depends much on the implications of their maturity. Loss is, however, still loss, and it may exacerbate already existing trauma-related issues.

[5] Vilya itself comes full circle from both a narrative and family trauma perspective—the quests for the Silmirilli which had sown distrust between the elves and other races, allowing Morgoth and Sauron to take hold—a quest which Celebrimbor, son of Celegorm forsook—led to the establishment of Celebrimbor in Eregion, where he would meet Sauron as Annatar, who would teach him how to forge the rings which would, ultimately, enable resistance to Sauron and, partially, facilitate his downfall. These rings would be carried by a descendent of Feanor’s half-brother (Gil-Galad), by a Teleri elf (Cirdan), by an elf who witnessed two or more of the Kinslayings by the hands of her very own kin (Galadriel), by a true if hidden emissary of the Valar (Gandalf), and by Elrond.

[6] UT, 248; UT, 108; Letters, Letter 144, 176

[7] At least as presented by the texts’ largely Noldorin, in-universe narrators.

[8] There is, arguably, further differentiation within the Nandor, with the Silvans east of the mountains—the interest of this paper—relatively lower in esteem than the laiquendi and guest-elves of Beleriand (who, at least for a time, fought or lived alongside the Sindar and Noldor).

[9] Letters, Letter 144, 176; UT, 260; UT, 108; Silmarillion, 94; UT, 272; The Hobbit, ‘Flies and Spiders’, 164

[10] However, how that subsuming happens is hotly contested in fan communities, and for good reason: Across his decades of writing Tolkien gives at least three differing accounts of Nandorin and Silvan in Third Age Middle-earth (an evolution that is the purview of a separate paper). However, given Tolkien’s thoughts on the pleasure to be found in language diversity, it is entirely unsurprising that his thoughts on language among the Third Age elves of the Third Age developed over time. After all, in a letter to his son in 1943, he emphatically wrote: “[…] ⅛ of the world's population speaks 'English', and that is the biggest language group. If true, damn shame – say I. May the curse of Babel strike all their tongues till they can only say 'baa baa'. It would mean much the same. I think I shall have to refuse to speak anything but Old Mercian” (Letters, 65).

[11]While defining royalty in Noldorin lines is fairly straightforward, we are given no real instruction regarding the Sindar in Middle-earth. Therefore, what “Sindarin princes” means is undefined. It might mean that Amdír and Oropher were bloodkin to Thingol of Doriath; were in some way elevated in Sindarin courts prior to migration; or were, alternatively, accepted as leaders after migration. We do not know.

[12] Unfortunately, Amdír is mentioned far fewer times in the legendarium than his son Amroth (in large part, one assumes, due to Tolkien’s original construction of Amroth as a son of Galadriel), so we know very little about him.

[13] Presumably because they had been directly displaced by the Kinslayings at Doriath in F.A. 506 and, likely, again as refugees at Sirion in F.A. 538. The Kinslaying at Sirion left few alive, meaning it is not unlikely that—if present—they may have been some of the only survivors.

[14] If Amdír and Amroth were originally Northern Sindarin, however, and had had early, extended contact with the Noldor and Feanorians via Hithlum/Mithrim as opposed to Gondolin or Doriath, this might easily explain some of those differences, as they would not have been directly affected by the Kinslayings in Doriath or Sirion. However, we simply--from the text--cannot know.

[15] Of note, “ae” is only used on one occasion in the remnants of Nandorin Tolkien provides. All others are either “a” or “e”.

[16] Which, again, contradicts some of his earlier writing in LotR and the Appendices, indicating that his in-world views evolved over time.

[17] Of course, this perception could be due to Tolkien writing more explicitly about the Silvan language in Mirkwood in his later years than in Lórien, for Galadriel ever dominated his thoughts there.

[18] And her elven ring ultimately protects the Silvan folk of Lórien (and, per some evidence, may have preserved certain linguistic traditions that developed during their isolation after the War of the Last Alliance and, again, after the Balrog was awoken and Amroth was lost around T.A. 1981.)

[19] And had envisioned them as such since their very awakening at Cuiviénen.

[20] Or, at the least, to the preservation of their language and culture upon initial contact.

Chapter End Notes

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---The Hobbit, (New York: Ballantine Books, 1976).

---The Silmarillion, ed. by Christopher Tolkien (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1977).

---Unfinished Tales: The Lost Lore of Middle-earth, ed. by Christopher Tolkien (New York: Random House Publishing Group, 1988).

--- The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, ed. by Humphrey Carpenter with the assistance of ---Christopher Tolkien (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2000).

Appendix A: Elrond and Elros—Tracing Generational Trauma

Elwing’s Family

Elwing is a refugee of Doriath when the children are born in First Age (F.A.) 532. Her mother and father Dior and Nimloth, rulers of Doriath, were slain by the sons of Feanor during the same event from which she fled with a Silmaril: the Second Kinslaying in FA 506, when Elwing was about three years old. Elwing’s siblings Eluréd andElurín, also children at the time, were left to die by Feanorians during the event. While Nimloth’s history is relatively unknown, Dior’s parents Lúthien and Beren had already died once—following a Silmaril-related incident—from, respectively, grief and violent injury. After being granted life a second time, Lúthien gave birth to Dior; later, they were presumed dead with the return of the Silmaril to Doriath in F.A. 503. Beren himself had, as a young man, been a refugee with a group of men and his father following the Dagor Bragollach—he returned after a mission to find his father and kinsmen slaughtered by the forces of Morgoth in, what is implied by Tolkien, a fairly disturbing manner (“blood dripped from [the] beaks [of the carrion]”. He dealt with their bodies and then wandered alone for years—pursued intermittently—until eventually arriving in Doriath, where he would meet Lúthien and begin his quest for a Silmaril.

Lúthien’s parents, of course, are Thingol and Melian. Thingol had been a leader of elves during the first great Sundering, but had been delayed in the journey when he and Melian—a Maia, one of the Ainur—met in the woods of Nan Elmoth, at which point Thingol was sundered from his brother Olwe, who became a leader of the Teleri in Valinor. Eventually, Thingol and Melian established Doriath, and Melian protected it. Like most elves in Beleriand at the time, Thingol was exposed to traumatic events in the form of battles and loss, which culminated in his death at the hands of the dwarves following a Silmaril-related incident. Melian then returned to Valinor, leaving Doriath unprotected, and the folk of Doriath endured the Battle of Ten Thousand Caves in Menegroth (F.A. 503).

Family Tree

Earendil’s Family

Earendil is a refugee of Gondolin, come with his parents after its destruction by Morgoth’s forces in FA 510. Earendil was not only exposed to that horrific battle at seven years old, witnessing the destruction of his home, but he was also threatened with death by his mother’s cousin, Maeglin, and witnessed Maeglin’s attempt on his mother’s life, and his subsequent demise. He then fled with his folk, ending up with his mother and father at the Mouths of Sirion, where Elwing’s people already dwelt. Idril and Tuor would sail West in F.A. 525, and Earendil would lead the folk then, though he was often away due to Sea-longing.

After the First Kinslaying, the stealing of the ships at Alqualonde, and the murder of her great grandfather Finwe by Morgoth, Idril crossed the Helcarexe with her parents Turgon and Elenwe, led by her grandfather Fingolfin, whose wife stayed behind. Many elves—including Idril’s mother Elenwe—died in the crossing, which was filled of “hardihood and woe,” and Idril herself was almost lost in the “cruel sea,” saved by her father even as her mother was lost. Turgon’s life was not a particularly happy one. Soon after arriving in Middle-earth, he begins to build Gondolin in secret. In F.A. 400, his sister Aredhel was murdered in front of him (to which he responded by throwing Eol off a cliff). Turgon’s father Fingolfin died in F.A. 456, after challenging Morgoth to a duel—it was Turgon who buried his father’s broken body. Finally, in F.A. 472, Turgon led a host of his people from Gondolin to support the alliance of men, dwarves, and elves—including his brother Fingon—at the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. There, Turgon saw his brother hewn by Gothmog, and returned to Gondolin with lesser forces as the High King of the Noldor, the last of his siblings.

The trauma associated with Fingolfin and its ripple effects not just through Finwean family history but the entirety of Arda is worth mentioning here. The relationship between Fingolfin and his half-brother Feanor is rather famously stressed, as Feanor resented the loss of his mother and his father’s remarriage. Fingolfin is threatened by his half-brother Feanor on multiple occasions, and then betrayed by him as they come upon the Helcaraxe, a betrayal that ends in the loss of many of their folk, regardless of the Feanorians initial defeat of Morgoth while Fingolfin labored across the Helcaraxe. Fingolfin dies after a solitary assault upon Morgoth, after he wrongly believes all his folk destroyed in the Dagor Bragollach.

Tuor’s family—to say nothing of the tragedy of his uncle Húrin’s line—is also, unsurprisingly, marked by loss. Tuor’s grandfather Galdor is slain in the Dagor Bragollach. Rían was a refugee during and, presumably, after the Dagor Bragollach, separated from, at least, her father. Rían and Huor marry shortly before the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, and then they conceive Tuor. However, before Tuor is even born, Huor is slain, and his mother—not knowing her husband’s fate—lives long enough to birth Tuor, before fostering him to the elves and dying of grief. For sixteen years, Tuor lived in an occupied land with Annael and the elven refugees from Mithrim, until they attempted to flee to the Mouths of Sirion in F.A. 488. However, they were attacked by orcs, and Tuor was ultimately separated from his folk and taken in “thrall” by the Easterlings, where he was “tormented” until he escaped at nineteen. He continued to live as a refugee and “outlaw” for several years until being guided by Ulmo to the hidden city of Gondolin, where he would meet and marry Idril. Their son Earendil—the father of Elrond and Elros—would be born in F.A. 503, seven years before the fall of Gondolin.

More than Peredhel

Appendix B: Lothlorien and Language

“Of events in [the Second Age of] Middle-earth the records are few and brief, and their dates are often uncertain." - Lord of the Rings Appendices

Of Wood-elves and Galadriel

It would be irresponsible not to acknowledge that information on everything having to do with the wood-elves—including Galadriel herself—is simultaneously scarce and contradictory. Christopher Tolkien opens Galadriel and Celeborn’s essay in Unfinished Tales thusly: “There is no part of the history of Middle-earth more full of problems than the story of Galadriel and Celeborn” (239). And while much has been written in scholarly circles about Tolkien’s languages and their relationships in-universe generally, the issue of language and culture as it pertains to a subset of the Teleri—the wood-elves—has been unexplored in publication (though, it is worth noting, discussion of it is alive and well—if contentious—in fan communities). Of the non-Sindar Teleri and Avari, Tolkien himself writes in a pre-LotR 1954 letter, “The lesser Elves hardly appear [in my work], except as part of the people of The Elf-realm; of Northern Mirkwood, and of Lórien, ruled by Eldar; their languages do not appear” (Letters, p174), and this remains almost entirely true, even through his son’s publications over the next several decades.

Language as a Cultural Indicator of Differing Resettlement Processes

Even disparate fields of study regard language as intrinsic to ethnic and cultural identity. Loss of language is often associated with displacement. While languages can and do coexist, language also can be punished or outlawed in order to specifically oppress groups or homogenize a nation. Language may also be lost through more implicit mechanisms like assimilation and cultural capital, wherein one language becomes more useful for survival than another due to the speaker’s environment, or via implicitly communicated beliefs by the larger culture about value. When language is threatened, people may react in various ways, spanning from outright resistance to private use of the language, or for cultural ceremonies. Languages may also evolve within their new context to form a new dialect or creole, which may, eventually, be subject to oppression or erasure as non-dominant languages.