For some reason I started thinking again about the fact that both J.R.R. Tolkien and Ursula K. Le Guin call their respective fantasy universes Eä/Éa (which I forgot I had already noticed once upon a time), and somehow stumbled upon this paper about how <p>The Earthsea Cycle</p> is an intertextual critique of <p>The Lord of the Rings</p>

Presumably since the paper limits itself only to <p>LotR</p> it doesn’t really mention any of the other similarities in lore between Middle Earth and Earthsea, but if you include <p>The Silmarillion</p> I think there are even more.

(One of these days, I’ll write this out in a more scholarly fashion, but today is not that day.)

The Old Speech/True Speech of Earthsea and the power of song in Middle Earth

The paper tries to demonstrate that magic works very differently in <p>LotR</p> versus in <p>The Earthsea Cycle</p> but if you look at <p>The Silmarillion</p> and consider singing as a form of speech, then I think there are more similarities than differences.

In Earthsea, magic operates through the magical language known as the Old Speech, in which words manipulate the very fabric of reality. Knowing the true name of an object or a person gives a mage power over that thing or person. (And it’s also the trick to the notion that dragons—who speak only the Old Speech—cannot lie. This is only because—in Karl Rovian fashion—even if what is uttered is currently not true, it becomes true upon utterance.

In a sense, this is how the Creation of Arda works. The song of the Ainur itself creates the reality of Middle Earth, and the discordant music sung by Melkor and his adherents also becomes wrought into Middle Earth as well.

The other instance where the power of singing is evident is when wielded by the heroine Lúthien Tinúviel, whose power is such that she made Morgoth fall asleep, and was able to move the heart of Mandos, master of doom.

But, certainly, plain speech in Middle Earth also has significant, perhaps even binding consequences. The Oath of Fëanor. The Doom of Mandos. The curses uttered by Glaurung upon the children of Húrin. Even the incantation written on the One Ring which, when uttered by Sauron, allowed him to gain power over the Three, the Seven, and the Nine. Knowledge of the potentially disastrous consequences of plain speech may be what made Elrond so reluctant to require the members of the Company of the Ring to swear oaths.

(And while this is more of a stretch, its also interesting how much magic in Middle Earth is bound up in weaving: Lúthien’s cloak of invisibility woven from her own hair, the “magical” cloaks that Galadriel gave to each member of the Company. “Text” is derived from Latin “texere” which means “to weave”. In a way, it’s quite fitting that text is still the primary medium of the network of networks that is the Internet, and that http is the most common protocol used on the Internet, being the defining characteristic of the World Wide Web.)

The Destruction of Solea and the Drowning of Númenor

The paper also distinguishes the fact that the entirety of <p>LotR</p> takes place on a continental landmass, and the Sea has very little to do with the tale, whereas in <p>The Earthsea Cycle</p> the Sea is the principle means of travel. Again, however, if you look at <p>The Silmarillion</p> the importance of the Sea is quite evident. The meme that proved to be the seed of <p>The Silmarillion</p> and the lore of Middle Earth was a random Anglo-Saxon verse concerning Earendel, whom JRRT transformed to Eärendil, and who is described as a mariner. The human kingdom of Númenor is an island that develops a vast navy that essentially colonizes the known world and in the end the Númenorians build a great armada to assail the Valar themselves. The Dúnedain are also known as Ship Kings. And, of course, the Noldorin exiles seek solace by sailing across the Great Sea to Valinor.

While the Flood Myth is almost practically a human universal, I still can’t help but see a parallel between the destruction of Solea in Earthsea and the drowning of Númenor in Arda. There aren’t any exact parallels between the Deed of Morred—in which the Enemy of Morred lusts after Queen Elfarran and, rebuffed, he vows to destroy her and everything she loves—and the Akallabêth, although in the earliest drafts, JRRT did envision a similar love triangle between Elentir (brother of Amandil and uncle of Elendil), Tar-Míriel, and Ar-Pharazôn. except that Elentir is the one who ends up in the Friend Zone. (In the final drafts, Ar-Pharazôn takes Tar-Míriel against her will.) Certainly, the death of Tar-Míriel, queen of Númenor seems to be echoed in the death of Elfarran.

The other story from JRRT that the Deed of Morred resembles is the Fall of Gondolin, in which Maeglin lusts after Idril (the mother of Eärendil), and, being rebuffed, betrays the kingdom to Morgoth in hopes of being able to take her against her will, although, certainly, the meme of a man obsessed with a woman who does not love him, who, then, in his rage, wages war and tries to take her against her will is an ancient one, being the subject of one of the oldest epic poems of Western civilization.

The Dry Lands in the West and the Undying Lands

In both Earthsea and Arda, the Westernmost regions are associated with immortality. Being denied eternal life, humans find themselves envying the elves who are allowed to travel West, and become obsessed with trying to escape death, and ultimately leads to the destruction of Númenor, when Ar-Pharazôn and his armada try to conquer Aman. Le Guin’s conception of the Dry Lands where your soul goes after you die at first seems to echo JRRT’s conception of the Halls of Mandos, and not even the dragons can reach those westernmost shores, but she ends up subverting this concept significantly in the last book of The Earthsea Cycle, The Other Wind. Whereas Eru divides the world so that humans can no longer reach the shores of Aman without divine providence, the Dry Lands were created by ancient mages in a failed attempt to attain true immortality. In this way, both JRRT and Le Guin tackle the notion that death is to be embraced, not avoided.

Ged’s loss of power and the non-healing wounds of Frodo

For some reason I didn’t catch this before, but the third book of the <p>Earthsea Cycle</p> , <p>The Farthest Shore</p> actually also echoes the end of <p>LotR</p> . Both are concerned with the concept of casting aside great power for the greater good—in order to save the world, Ged loses his magical ability and Frodo loses the One Ring. In a sense, Le Guin’s ending is the happier one, in which, despite his great loss, Ged is still able to find love, and purpose in his life, whereas Frodo never really overcomes his loss. (Also, Ged’s sacrifice and Frodo’s sacrifice both herald the return of the rightful king.)