It sure is convenient that all these songs that ostensibly werenât written in English all rhyme when translated into English, isnât it, Mr. Tolkien?
yknow what really bothered me for some reason??
he used âloud as a trainâ or smth similar to describe the balrogâs roar. like, no ok so y’know if this is supposed to have been âtranslatedâ like you tell us, then wouldnât it have been smth other than a train, like a waterfall?
idk it just really bothers meClearly he was talking about the train of Glorfindelâs robes which as everyone knows are covered in bells and jingle
1. I mean, he invented the languages he was going to translate, so if a rhyme didnât work he could change the whole language if he wanted to. But actually, itâs not uncommon for translations (particularly older translations) to try to preserve or at least recreate rhyme schemes. For example, Tolkien translated âPearlâ into rhyming Modern English.
2. The train thing! Itâs actually related to how Tolkien presents the hobbits as essentially âmodernâ characters who then go out and have adventures in the old heroic culture of myth and legend. As Tolkien says, â[The Shire] is in fact more or less a Warwickshire village of about the period of the Diamond JubileeâŠâ (Letters, 230, #178). Itâs very deliberately a part of the language. Think of all the modern, non-medieval things the hobbits have. Itâs always a contrast between Modern English (Shire) and Old English (rest of Middle Earth). Even though Tolkien changed some foreign names to make them seem English, the hobbits still have
- tobacco (pipeweed), a New World crop
- drink tea in the modern English way
- potatoes, another New World crop, made more English-sounding as âtatersâ
- rabbits/coneys, which were imported to England in the 13th century
- a regular postal service
- mantelpiece clocks!
It was a deliberate choice that gave readers us a group of characters who can serve as tour guides to a mythical medieval adventure. Tom Shippey explains it better than I ever could:
âŠThere is one very evident obstacle to recreating the ancient world
of heroic legend for modern readers, and that lies in the nature of
heroes. These are not acceptable any more, and tend very strongly to be
treated with irony: the modern view of Beowulf is John Gardnerâs novel Grendel
(1971). Tolkien did not want to be ironic about heroes, and yet he
could not eliminate modern reactions. His response to the difficulty is
Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit, the anachronism, a character whose initial
role at least is very strongly that of mediator. He represents and often
voices modern opinions, modern incapacities: he has no impulses towards
revenge or self-conscious heroism, cannot âhoot twice like a barn-owl
and once like a screech-owlâ as the dwarves suggest, knows almost
nothing about Wilderland and cannot even skin a rabbit, being used to
having his meat âdelivered by the butcher ready to cookâ. Yet he has a
place in the ancient world too, and there is a hint that (just like us)
all his efforts cannot keep him entirely separate from the past.âŠ
Bilboâs behaviour is solidly anachronistic, for he is wearing a jacket, relying on a written contract, drawing a careful distinction between gain and profit, and proposing a compromise which would see Bardâs claim as running expenses (almost tax deductible). Where Bard and Thorin used archaic words (âHail!â, âfoesâ, âhoardâ, âkindredâ, âslainâ), he uses modern ones: âprofitâ, never used in English until 1604, and then only in Aberdeen; âdeductâ, recorded in 1524 but then indistinguishable from âsubtractâ and not given its commercial sense till much later; âtotalâ, not used as here till 1557; âclaimâ, âinterestâ, âaffairâ, âmatterâ, all French or Latin imports not adopted fully into English till well after the Norman Conquest. It is fair to say that no character from epic or saga could even begin to think or talk like Bilbo.
Basically, if Tolkien does a thing with words, thereâs always a very good chance that the professor was having fun with language, and doing it very consciously (see: Mount Doom, name of).
And furthermore, the entire conceit behind the books is that theyâre translated into English from the âoriginalâ Westron of the Red Book, meaning that a âmodernâ translator could do whatever he wanted with the language to make it work for the equally modern audience while preserving the same feel/meaning. Heck, even the characters arenât named what you think they are (Merry, for instance).
LotR is actually the story of Maura Labingi, BanazĂźr Galbasi, Ranazur TĂ»k and Kalimac Brandagamba. Maura lived at Laban-nec, but left Haubyltalan and SĂ»za altogether, first aiming for a hill-town just outside SĂ»za but eventually for Karnigul (or, in Elvish, Imladris). Mauraâs older cousin and dearest friend (in one person) Bilba Labingi lived in Karnigul at that point.Â
The extent to which Tolkien goes to present LotR as an edited mediaeval text is actually DELIGHTFUL and also ABSURDLY GREAT; the prologue is actually a provenance and edition litany, explaining which recension of The Red Book he was working from in order to explain its likely oddities and inclusions (or exclusions).Â
I have often actually wanted an edition with all known or reasonably extrapolated Westron put back in, because Iâm really curious how it would read.Â
i got my Esperantoâ copy of the Hobbit the mail yesterday and the riddles all still rhyme. it’s what happens if a lot of effort is put into good translation, you’re meant to not even notice it wasn’t written in your language.
but, holy shit Tolkien
