I've always thought Tolkiens books were romantic....not so much in a boy and girl way but in a broader sense.
There is something about the idea of people being more than their station that I love.
Perhaps a silly but similar feeling is when you watch the film Braveheart....a man whose life and belief becomes bigger than him ...that it frightens and inspires.
Anyway I'm asking what you think the most romantic notion in the books is.... Perhaps the rise and fall of the Westernese Gil-Galad & Sauron Who knows..............
To awnser my own question...it is the ending of LOR's that gets to me.....all that was magical ...all that was pure.....all of the history , the victories, defeats, the joys and saddness..pass away. Forever.....making way for the age of man
The idea of rising above the tribulation and hardships to create a better tomorrow for others is incredibly noble. The high adventure is always "romantic" to me. I
My Friends, I found your postings interesting and definitely a topic worthy of reflection. I think that you may have hit solidly on the theme of why "we fall in love" (please pardon the pun) with the works and world of J.R.R. Tolkien. In trying to understand what you each meant by romantic I found myself looking at several different dictionaries. Here is a list, gleaned from my search, which comes closest to meaning of romantic in your postings;
imbued with or dominated by idealism, a desire for adventure, chivalry, etc.
(usually initial capital letter) of, pertaining to, or characteristic of a style of literature and art that subordinates form to content, encourages freedom of treatment, emphasizes imagination, emotion, and introspection, and often celebrates nature, the ordinary person, and freedom of the spirit (contrasted with classical ).
Of or pertaining to the style of the Christian and popular literature of the Middle Ages, as opposed to the classical antique; of the nature of, or appropriate to, that style; as, the romantic school of poets.
Characterized by strangeness or variety; suggestive of adventure; suited to romance; wild; picturesque; -- applied to scenery; as, a romantic landscape.
("romantic ." dictionary.com . 10 June 2009<http://dictionary.reference.com)
"Anyway I'm asking what you think the most romantic notion in the books is ..."(Tolkien Forums > General Lore discussion (standard) > A romantic notion > Filli > June 9th, 2009) Tolkien's work on the classic heroic sagas of Beowulf, Arthurian romance, and inspiration from the Nibelungenlied (Ring Cycles) as well as his work on the medieval English and French heroic romances flavor all of his scholastic and fantasy works. But please note that, as I read your postings, that the term romantic was coupled with the term heroic. Elves, Dwarves, Men, Hobbits, and even trees exhibit noble characteristics that create a "Middle-Earth" that is shaped by heroes and heroines. The major characteristic that creates what is called heroic is sacrifice. And often it is the heroic sacrifice of death in combat. It is not vain self-glorious but a noble sacrifice for the good of others. Another part of what we call romantic is Tolkien's work to bring his values, his "ethos", in line with the heroic fantasies he was telling his children as "bedtime stories" and in his interpretive translating of ancient heroic literature for a larger academic community. His ethos, his idealism and his life experience, is imbedded in the heroic warrior persona adapted by himself and a greater community of empire and world wars. Tolkien's romance is more than modern projections of the sagas of Norse, Germanic, English, Celtic, and other medieval cultures. It is formed with a Christian ethical projection of his times and his loves. "The idea of rising above the tribulation and hardships to create a better tomorrow for others is incredibly noble." (Tolkien Forums > General Lore discussion (standard) > A romantic notion > lomoduin > June 10th, 2009)
I think this discussion might lead to a more elaborate thread about heroism.
__________________
Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit Called or uncalled, God is present
Many people don't realize there are still "heros" out here in RL. Heros have been here and there will always be heros. Think about the single mother who works 2 jobs to feed her small children, refusing to go on welfare, and succeding of bringing them up to be well-adjusted and contributing and caring adults. I'd call that a heroine. Or the Cancer victim, who has only a few years tor less to live, and who starts agencies to help other cancer victims. Who are raising funds and setting up trust funds to help those less financially fortunate. OR the soldier fighting on the Frontlines letting his friend jump into the foxhole before, saving the other guys life, but who is hit by the enemy, because of that heroic act. I think if you just look, you can find heros in your very own community. I think Tolkien did that to an extend, and patterned some of his work from his own RL heros
__________________
Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo! Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, Jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!
With all do respect, Lady, and you are due respect, I disagree in partiality. The everyday mom making a job of supporting her offspring is not a hero. The everyday servant fulfilling his duties is not a hero. My duties to my offspring being fulfilled do not make me a hero. Unfortunately. I have offspring and some of the time I feel alone in the performance of the duties involved. Heroism is above and beyond. Those that take the time to raise other's offspring or (in this day-n-age) to not have offspring at all, those are the heros. Single moms are single moms because they made a choice. Not necassarily no choice, but a choice, man involved or not, they made a choice. That is where romantic is lost . An uneducated society is a dangerous society. The trick is to draw a line somewhere neutral. Romance is in the unknown. (What are we asking?) It's in the mysterious. (What do we not know?) It's in the knowing? (What do we honestly expect/want?)
Romantic doesn't happen everyday. It is unusual. That's why it's respected and coveted. Romantic is not easy or obtainable without sacrifice. It is stuffing your friend/squad member in first and not pushing through yourself. It is making sure your team succeeds even if it means with out you. It's the without "you" that we so often have the trouble with. And if there are no heros in our comunity, then what? Who then do we turn to? The every day survivors like ourselve's or those that go above and beyond what our boss or mate requires? Who are they? Everyone? They need a name and an objective for me to sympathize with them. Don't you think? The average American does. I find my solace, my savior in Tolkien. A balanced and intellectual advesary. How many times have I read his works? Enough to know that I have alot to learn about life, romance, absolution and his works.
Ladies and friends, It is in a dark corner where I found her. She had met me before and she was glad to see me again. She was eight years old. Huddled in that corner with her were her two brothers. They were six and four years old. She was telling them over and over that it would be alright, to just stay quiet, and that she would protect them. All were frightened. And all had been here before. Her arms and legs were bruised and her face dirty with tear stained cheeks.. Her clothes were torn and too small. Her hair was ratty and someone had randomly cut a clump out. Her two brothers were dressed in dirty men's T-shirts. They all smelled of urine and human feces. As I approached them she launched herself at me, hugging my legs and whimpering, "Mommy's drinking again." This was not the first time that the children had been through this. The case records had told me it had happened at least five times before. Food stamps or rent subsidy traded for beer and crack. Or one of the occasional child support checks from one of the three children's fathers found its way to whiskey and the pipe. The children had been from foster home to foster home and shelter to shelter. Every time their mother tested clean after six months the courts re-united the children with mom and started the children's benefits which promptly went to the bottle and up mom's nose. A new man, usually a dealer, would move in and the abuse started again. Social workers were afraid to go to the residence alone. The police had been there so many times that even they wouldn't go without two cars. "Domestic violence" had begun to be called by the mother's first name. Between myself and the police we had removed the children three times. We joked at the number of times we had been to the local emergency room with our own cuts and s****es after wrestling with a crack crazed and drunk female who called herself "mommy".. We soberly remembered the times at the hospital when it was the kids who had needed treatment. We had filed report after incidence report recommending permanent placement and no re-unification. The courts were letting this one slip through the cracks. There was always some social worker report that said the children would be better off with their mother. Four times these reports were filed from an addictions treatment center which treated the mother but had no "home visitation" or had even interviewed the children. Yes, it was better...but for the mother...not the children. As the little girl gripped my leg she was also gripping my heart. I knew the insanity of living under the same roof as an addict. I knew the uncertainty and fear when you came home from school not sure if you would get sloppy drunk kisses or a beating because you looked at her wrong while she was detoxing. I listened to her small voice, almost a whisper, as she asked me to take her and her brothers away to a safe place. I felt a huge lump in my throat as she asked me the impossible; would I be her daddy? I knew I had to intervene. I had to call Children's Services and get these kids to a safe and stable place. I had to shake this addict once again and this time send her away for years. And I knew I would be pulled from the children's case. I was becoming to involved, to connected emotionally, to biased to be objective. When I had come to the door she had let me in. She was small and thin. Her face reddened with the shame of being caught again. She had deep circles under her eyes. Whether from lack of sleep or a beating I could not tell. Her dress was soiled with a slight blood stain below the waist. She mumbled something about needing feminine hygiene products. She reeked of whiskey, beer, and sex. Her long brown hair was wet. She twistedly giggled as she remarked it was raining outside. I asked her where the kids were. She had bristled and in the rapid incoherent speech that only a cocaine junkie can make told me that I was not going to take her kids; that she would kill them first. Again I asked where the kids were. She gave me a drunken smile and said "wouldn't you like to know." I shoved her down into a chair and told her to stay put. She picked up her pipe and lighter and waved me to the back of the house. I followed the trail of whimpers and crying until I found them in that corner. I called the police on my cell speed dial...sadly I had used it that often. I was told by the dispatcher that they were already on their way. As I hung up I could hear them rapping on the door. She still had the pipe between her teeth as I let them in. They moved to arrest her when she grabbed a kitchen butchers knife. She shouted that she would kill herself and the children if they didn't back off. I didn't mean to. It came from somewhere deep inside. My left fist closed around the knife as my right swung in an arching thrust at her nose. I felt it break in the palm of my right hand. She went down hard and silent. I let out a groan and tears poured down my face. The police just stared at me and said nothing. They took the knife from my left fist. From their first aid kit they bandaged the slight slash. It was so shallow that it was more like a paper cut than a knife slash. A pat on my shoulder and a word saying that if I hadn't acted so quickly they might have had to draw their weapons...and then who knows what would have happened. The cuffed her and dragged her to their car. She began to struggle and cursed me, the police, and her children. In between breathes she muttered "my babies, my babies". Her eight year old daughter and her two young boys were crowded at the back screen door. The boys were screaming "we love you mommy, we love you". Her daughter hid her face in my shirt. And came the moment that defined true heroism to me. Not in my silly little paper cut. She looked up into my eyes with her tear filled own and said, "How will I take care of them now? It is almost Christmas. How will Santa find us now? Will they let me be the mommy?"
I think that heroism does require sacrifice. On the battlefield Abraham Lincoln called it "the last full measure of devotion". We found heroes innumerable on 9/11 and after. I can be successfully argued that some moms, some soldiers, and some victims of disease, find within themselves the courage to make a difference. It can also be argued that real life heroes aren't the inspiring soul soaring image that we need to fire our romantic selves. Too easily we can be jaded with day after day, body after body, crisis after crisis. We do have a need for "knights in shining armor". But, as I have tried to convey, heroism is where you find it. For me, past all argument, I found it in the tear-filled questions of an eight year old little girl.
__________________
Vocatus atque non vocatus, Deus aderit Called or uncalled, God is present
