Unfinished Tales - Part One - I - Of Tuor and His Coming to Gondolin

[Aiwendil]

This is one of my favorite pieces of writing by Tolkien. Part of that, I admit, may come from its place as the first piece in UT and hence, at least for me, the fact that it was my first exposure to any of his writings beyond The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and the published Silmarillion.

I had read those three works at quite a young age (actually, the first time through they were bed-time stories read to me by my mother), and Tolkien was already my favorite author. But, while I had picked up UT and the first few volumes of HoMe over the years, the (as it seemed to me at the time) copious editorial notes and strange, fragmentary nature of the stories was not what I was expecting, and I'm ashamed to say they sat, unread, on my bookshelf for a long time. It was not until high school when one morning, already late for the bus, I remembered there was standardized testing that day and I would need a book to fill the interminable intervals after finishing each section. More or less at random, I grabbed Unfinished Tales out of my bookcase.

I suppose I'd become more patient since first picking up the book years before, for I found Christopher Tolkien's introduction interesting rather than tedious. And then I started reading 'Tuor', and suddenly I was swept out of the little window-less classroom to the empty lands of Nevrast and the shores of Middle-earth. I was deeply enchanted, and I couldn't believe that for so many years this (and who knew what other treasures) had been sitting on my bookshelf unread. It's quite a thing to discover a new and unlooked-for gem by one's favorite author; it's another thing indeed to realize that this is just the beginning of thirteen volumes full of potential gems.

So it's hard for me to say whether the esteem in which I hold 'Tuor' is due to its own merits or to the unveiling of the vast and rich literary landscape that it was for me. But it hasn't occurred to me until now to wonder just why it is the first story in UT. After all, Tuor's story comes after Turin's, not before it, in the Silmarillion. I can only surmise that perhaps my reaction to 'Tuor' is not singular; perhaps Christopher Tolkien decided to place it in the first position precisely because it does such a good job of opening up that literary landscape. The 'Narn' is certainly a deeper story - at least than this fragment - and perhaps better, but I would venture to say that it is not as enchanting or beguiling. There's a certain lyricism in 'Tuor' that stands almost alone in Tolkien's writings; the closest things to it, as others have noted, would have to be certain passages of LotR. Perhaps that makes it the best 'hook' with which to open UT.

Originally Posted by Estelyn

What is it with Tolkien's wives and mothers?! Here we have yet another who effectively abandons her child (yes, she provided for fostering, but that's not the same as having an actual mother). Rather than staying with Tuor, Rían leaves him with the Elves and dies. Is life as a wife more important than life as a mother? Does her life end with that of her husband? This is an attitude I don't understand.

This is a good observation, and I largely agree with you. But I think that to fully consider Rian's fate we need to look again at the parallels and contrasts between Tuor's story and Turin's. Rian and Morwen are cousins, but are starkly contrasted in temperament. Morwen is a realist; she is stern but very strong, and though her grief after the Nirnaeth was surely terrible, she kept it under control and did what she thought best for her children, painful though sending Turin away to Doriath was for her. Rian seems to have been made for a gentler world. I would not quite say that her husband meant more to her than her son, nor that she ended her life because she considered herself his wife and nothing beyond that. Rather, I'd say that the grief of the Nirnaeth and the darkness of the days ahead was more than she could deal with without him. Killing herself was definitely the wrong thing to do, but it's a failure for which I don't think we should judge her too harshly.

Originally Posted by Inziladun

I don't know that I agree with the comparison between Voronwë and Beleg.

The latter became Túrin's friend naturally, through an association of many years.

On the other hand, Voronwë really wasn't a friend at all. He was placed in Tuor's path by Ulmo, and intended as a guide for Tuor to Gondolin.

I have always seen Voronwe as the analogue of Gwindor - Gwindor guides Turin to Nargothrond and Voronwe guides Tuor to Gondolin. That parallel goes deeper - if you recall, Finrod and Turgon both had dreams sent to them by Ulmo urging them to found hidden cities, and Nargothrond and Gondolin were the respective results. It's also worth noting that in the Book of Lost Tales, Voronwe was an escaped thrall from Angband just as was Gwindor ('Flinding' in the Lost Tales). Indeed, I've always kind of suspected that Tolkien changed Voronwe's background to avoid making the analogy too blatantly obvious.

[Inziladun]

At this later date, I can't remember exactly when I first read UT. I don't think it could have been before the mid 90's, though, when my Tolkien interest went through a renaissance that ultimately led me here to the Downs.

I'm quite fond of this first story. To me, Tuor really is the anti-Túrin; humble and accepting of advice, yet valiant when put to it. He hears the call of Ulmo and goes to the Sea, where he receives a task he had not looked for. Like Frodo much later, he accepts the errand on faith, not knowing where it will lead him in the end, but realizing that such is his part to play. I admire that.

Also, the imagery here is superb. As has been mentioned, the visualization of the empty, yet enduring halls of Vinyamar is compelling. The sound of the waves, the sunlight streaming in, and the sense of wholesomeness mixed with intrigue: where had the Noldor there gone? Tuor would find out rather soon.

Originally Posted by Aiwendil

I have always seen Voronwe as the analogue of Gwindor - Gwindor guides Turin to Nargothrond and Voronwe guides Tuor to Gondolin. That parallel goes deeper - if you recall, Finrod and Turgon both had dreams sent to them by Ulmo urging them to found hidden cities, and Nargothrond and Gondolin were the respective results. It's also worth noting that in the Book of Lost Tales, Voronwe was an escaped thrall from Angband just as was Gwindor ('Flinding' in the Lost Tales). Indeed, I've always kind of suspected that Tolkien changed Voronwe's background to avoid making the analogy too blatantly obvious.

Gwindor as a parallel to Voronwë works very well. I like Voronwë as is, better. As you say, with Gwindor we already have a picture of what happens to the prisoners of Angband. With Voronwë, we get the insight of an Elf trying against hope to return to the West, failing, and yet being saved to play his own part in a drama much greater than himself.

[Boromir88]

Originally Posted by Inziladun

Also, the imagery here is superb. As has been mentioned, the visualization of the empty, yet enduring halls of Vinyamar is compelling. The sound of the waves, the sunlight streaming in, and the sense of wholesomeness mixed with intrigue: where had the Noldor there gone? Tuor would find out rather soon.

Speaking of imagery, not only in the physical landscape, but the imagery provided by the various types of birds stirs beautiful imagery. The great seagulls, the swans of the Teleri, and the Eagles circling, guarding the Sirion from Orcs. And I believe there is a great statue of Thorondor in Gondolin.

It reminded me of a statue I recently saw visiting Salem, MA outside a courthouse. Large golden eagle, wings spread, which made me wonder about symbolisms of eagles. Quite majestic, royal, the lions of the sky?

[Formendacil]

It's an interesting question you bring up, Aiwendil, regarding Christopher Tolkien's choice to place "Of Tuor" first in Unfinished Tales, over the Narn, and since this is a discussion of UT as a whole as much as UT's individual units, it's an interesting one to consider. Given Christopher Tolkien's rubric of putting the first three sections in chronological order, "Of Tuor" and the Narn are essentially interchangeable, because they cover a contemporary timeframe. True, the Narn starts a few years earlier, because Túrin is Tuor's elder, but it also brings the story a few years later--Tuor and Voronwë's chance encounter with Túrin leaves the entire final, and most finished, section of the Narn yet to come, starting with his return to Dor-Lómin.

Nonetheless, I don't think it was strict chronology that led Christopher Tolkien to place "Of Tuor" first. Aiwendil has already given an adequate account of why it might be a more hopeful first choice, and I'll merely add to that by saying it's a question of balance. If the Narn had gone first, it would have completely unbalanced UT as a whole. As the longest narrative in the book (and arguably the most complete, as shown by its ready transition to a little changed form in the stand-alone, commentary-free Children of Húrin), the Narn would have changed the book from Unfinished Tales of Númenor and Middle-earth to The Narn i Hîn Húrin and Other Unfinished Tales.


Also, while we're reminiscing about when we first read UT, I'm trying to think when I did. I read both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings when I was 11 (or about 11... I'm not actually sure), and had my first attempt at the The Silmarillion shortly after, and was temporarily defeated... but not permanently defeated, because I think that after another reread or two of the LotR I read the Silm for a second time and then had the inertia to leap into UT. All these books were purloined from my dad's college-era bookshelves, and I vaguely remember that my post-Silm trepidation was much allayed by the references I could see to the more familiar world of Men and the Third Age, so I must have been no older than 12 or a very early thirteen, since I definitely read it a few times (if not several) before the movies came out a month or two before I turned 15. I'd tentatively date my first read, then, to 1998 sometime.

It's a fascinating study of my own chronology, even if it interests no one else.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

I'm enjoying the posts here! Question: Would you like another week to discuss this chapter, or are you ready to move on to the next one?

[Formendacil]

Originally Posted by Estelyn Telcontar

I'm enjoying the posts here! Question: Would you like another week to discuss this chapter, or are you ready to move on to the next one?

I'm of the mind that there's no reason this thread must cease once the next begins... but insofar as I have not yet reread (or skimmed) the Narn in preparation... well... holding off wouldn't hurt me.

[Boromir88]

Esty, I have no preference, but curious, were you planning on breaking up the sections of the Children of Hurin?

[Puddleglum]

Originally Posted by Aiwendil

Rather, I'd say that the grief of the Nirnaeth and the darkness of the days ahead was more than she deal with without him. Killing herself was definitely the wrong thing to do, but it's a failure for which I don't think we should judge her too harshly.

I wonder. The text only says that she went to the Hill of the Slain and died - not that she proactively killed herself. I've always read that along the line of your first statement that the grief was too great for her to endure. That she held herself together long enough to provide for Tuor's fostering and to travel to where her bones could rest with her husband's, and that was all her strength could manage.

An interesting contrast is the passing or Morwen. I think it is fair to say that Morwen had a different makeup from Rian. Morwen was more of a steel-nerved survivor who was centered on fighting and struggling against all comers for what she believed was right (or, at least, best for her family). And yet, even Morwen, reached the limit of her will to live at the end. When Hurin finally finds her and expresses that, even tho their children are dead, they are together again, Morwen can only say "I am spent, I shall go with the sun" - and she does.

To me that is eerily similar to what Rian was feeling (and may even have said to herself) as she laid her down on the Hill of the Slain to die.