Read The Hobbit with me!

there are things more beautiful

than words can ever tell  

  I’m running a book club this year and our current book is the Hobbit - so I thought it might be fun to do a post on each couple chapters I read! It would be especially fun, I think, because this blog was kind of founded on my love for Tolkien :)

    So this is both the intro post and the review of chapters 1-3. I have no idea how many times I’ve read this book, but I think I love it more every time. Bilbo is the funniest, sweetest, most relatable protagonist ever written (in my personal opinion) and I love watching his character face (many) challenges and victories and grow in the end. 

    Also I love how different the tone of the Hobbit is from The Lord of the Rings - Tolkien wrote it for his children, and you can almost taste his delightful wry humour. For example (just to choose one, because there are too many delightful moments to choose from): 

    “Thank you!” said Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the correct thing to say, but they have begun to arrive had flustered him badly. He liked visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to ask them himself. He had a horribly thought that the cakes might run short, and then he—as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however painful—he might have to go without.” (Gasp! The horror—no cake!)

I would be upset too if I knew I wouldn't get any of this...

    And of course there’s Gandalf’s classic “do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not, or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?” (I shall be using this very frequently.)

    And then too there are beautiful things, like Bilbo’s thoughts while listening to the dwarves sing. 

    “As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick.”

    Those words wake up something inside of me, much as the dwarves’ song do in Bilbo. I want adventures like those—like Bilbo goes on to have. Something inside of me has always craved adventure, and I think it always will. But like Bilbo too, a part of me loves the comforts of home. Cozy things are beautiful too, and I think one of the most lovely things about the Hobbit is that it holds both in tension. Tolkien shows us comfort, and then shows us adventure, and makes us realise sometimes we must be made uncomfortable to truly appreciate the beautiful things in life. (Yes, I am well aware that I sound very academic. No, I do not apologise. Even “children’s books” have meanings deeper than those on the surface.)

    So overall—this is and will probably always be one of my favourite books. I’ll leave you with a part from the dwarves’ mountain song that will hopefully encourage you to pick it up too :)

far over the misty mountains cold

to dungeons deep and caverns old

we must away, ere break of day

to find our long-forgotten gold

January Inklings (I know it’s February… shhh)

    It’s been rather too long since I’ve done an Inklings post. Last month’s was a scene with a horse in a book or film.

    I agonised over what to choose for this for a grand total of perhaps a minute. I always talk about the Lord of the Rings. I could talk about it for hours. I really should choose something else. I am, after all, a well-rounded person with a variety of interests.

    And, well, I lost that particular fight. So here’s a scene (with not one, but many horses) from the Lord of the Rings. All credit, of course, to the inestimable J.R.R. Tolkien.

At length even Gimli could hear the distant beat of galloping hoofs.

The horsemen, following the trail, had turned from the river, and

were drawing near the downs. They were riding like the wind.

Now the cries of clear strong voices came ringing over the fields.

Suddenly they swept up with a noise like thunder, and the foremost

horseman swerved, passing by the foot of the hill, and leading the

host back southward along the western skirts of the downs. After him

they rode: a long line of mail-clad men, swift, shining, fell and fair

to look upon.

Their horses were of great stature, strong and clean-limbed; their

grey coats glistened, their long tails flowed in the wind, their manes

were braided on their proud necks. The Men that rode them matched

them well: tall and long-limbed; their hair, flaxen-pale, flowed under

their light helms, and streamed in long braids behind them; their

faces were stern and keen. In their hands were tall spears of ash,

painted shields were slung at their backs, long swords were at their

belts, their burnished shirts of mail hung down upon their knees.

In pairs they galloped by, and though every now and then one

rose in his stirrups and gazed ahead and to either side, they appeared

not to perceive the three strangers sitting silently and watching them.

The host had almost passed when suddenly Aragorn stood up, and

called in a loud voice:

‘What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?’

In Which I Say Goodbye To 2025 (Featuring a life update and my book highlights)

It’s raining as I write this.

I will never not love the rain, I think. There’s something so calming and beautiful about it. I’d be happy if it rained every day.

This year has been… well. It’s certainly been. Joyous and sorrowful and full of laughter and tears and successes and disappointments. In other words, life. When I think about everything that’s happened, I see God in my life and I’m thankful. He’s good and everything will turn out right because of Him.

This season in my life is particularly difficult. I’m in the process of auditioning for major music schools across the country, and it takes a lot of dedication and no small amount of time. So if I disappear from the blogiverse for an extended period, it’s probably because I’m off somewhere practicing my tail off. 

Yet despite the difficulty, it’s still good. I get the chance to pursue a career in the thing I love doing most in the world. Hard things are worth doing. Perseverance.

But somehow I’ve also managed to read a good deal this year (thank the LORD!) In no particular order, I’ve compounded a list of my most memorable books of 2025. Enjoy!

1. The Princess Bride by William Goldman

2. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott*

3. Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery*

4. Emily of New Moon by L.M. Montgomery*

5. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen*

6. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

7. Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

8. That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis*

9. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien*

10. Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett

11. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett*

12. Echoes of a Silent Song by Amanda Wen

13. The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis*

14. Prince Caspian by C.S. Lewis*

15. The Book Jumper by Metchthild Glaser

16. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë*

17. The Four Quartets by T.S. Eliot

18. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

19. What Comes of Attending the Commoners’ Ball by Elisabeth Aimee Brown

20. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo

* = re-reads

Happy New Year!

Hannah

going away

 

i'm going away for a while

though i promise i'll return.

i'm going to a place

blooming, blazoning, shining

with stories and goodness and light.

a dream within a dream. a fairytale reality.

a place to truly

live.

(but i'm coming back in a week's time

and when i do

nothing will be the same.)

---

soli Deo gloria,

Hannah

A Worthy End

   The unfortunate fact of life is that humanity is flawed.

    Lovely way to start a post, isn’t that? But it’s true. Because of the Fall and original sin, every one of us makes mistakes every day. 

    And so when authors write, we seek to create characters as genuinely flawed as ourselves. As readers, that’s the kind of stories we look for as well. When we read of characters who have no flaws, we consider them ill-formed because really, they’re not how we are but how we want to be. That’s wishful thinking, not characters to whom we can relate—and we don’t like that. 

    So we—both readers and writers—look for characters like ourselves. We want to “live a thousand loves and love a thousand loves”, and we can only do that if we read, and read about characters with a bit of ourselves in them. 

    One of the (arguably, I admit, but I’ve never met anyone who disagrees) greatest authors of British Literature was J.R.R. Tolkien, and not just because of his impressive world-building skills. (Though those did, I’m sure, impact the situation.) Rather because of his ability to bring such human characters to life—even though more than half are not, in fact, human. This post will be exploring two in particular, two that stand out as being particularly flawed (and are curiously often disliked because of it) but in the end redeem themselves most nobly. 

    Let me introduce you to the first—Thorin Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain. 

    If you’re a Tolkien fan in any regard you’ve likely heard of Our Lad Thorin—the stubborn Dwarf king who undertook a perilous quest to reclaim his home (and gold) from the dragon Smaug. He’s known for his pride, his stubborn Dwarvish nature, and eventual fall to dragon-sickness. If ever there was a flawed character, he’d be it. Thorin has a wicked sense of humour, but feels the weight of duty and pride over any joy or friendship. He’s thoughtless, deliberately provoking, and harsh.

    But he changes. At first for the good, for the tentative friendship Bilbo offers him works at his heart. Then for ill, when the dragon-sickness takes him. But then—again.

“Farewell, good thief,” he said. “I go now to the halls of waiting to sit beside my fathers, until the world is renewed. Since I leave now all gold and silver, and go where it is of little worth, I wish to part in friendship from you, and I would take back my words and deeds at the Gate.”

Bilbo knelt on one knee filled with sorrow. “Farewell, King under the Mountain!” he said. “This is a bitter adventure, if it must end so; and not a mountain of gold can amend it. Yet I am glad that I have shared in your perils—that has been more than any Baggins deserves.”

“No!” said Thorin. “There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world. But sad or merry, I must leave it now. Farewell!”

    Thorin’s farewell to Bilbo is tragic, beautiful, and redemptive. Though he fell in the end, it was the only thing that made him realise what he had been doing—to himself, and to those around him. But whatever the cause, he did repent. And he departed with hope.

   So also does another unsung hero depart—though not with hope as much as peace. Boromir, Son of Denethor, Steward of Gondor is his name, a man known for his greatness in deed of arms and valiance in defence of his country. He’s judgemental, rash, and hot-headed, but he’s also loyal and brave and true. 

    When Boromir is tempted by the Ring, it creeps into his heart and corrupts his soul. He’s willing to chase after Frodo and threaten harm upon him because of the havoc the evil has wreaked upon him. 

    But, like Thorin, he too changes. 

A mile, maybe, from Parth Galen in a little glade not far from the lake he found Boromir. He was sitting with his back to a great tree, as if he was resting. But Aragorn saw that he was pierced with many black-feathered arrows; his sword was still in his hand, but it was broken near the hold; his horn cloven in two was at his side. Many Orcs lay slain, piled all about him and at his feet. 

Aragorn knelt beside him. Boromir opened his eyes and strove to speak. At last slow words came. ‘I tried to take the Ring from Frodo,’ he said. ‘I am sorry. I have paid.’ His glance strayed to his fallen enemies; twenty at least lay there. ‘They have gone: the Halflings: the Orcs have taken them. I think they are not dead. Orcs bound them.’ He paused and his eyes closed wearily. After a moment he spoke again.

‘Farewell, Aragorn! Go to Minas Tirith and save my people! I have failed.’

‘No!’ said Aragorn, taking his hand and kissing his brow. ‘You have conquered. Few have gained such a victory. Be at peace! Minas Tirith shall not fall!’

Boromir smiled.

‘Which way did they go? Was Frodo there?’ said Aragorn.

But Boromir did not speak again.

      Tolkien’s use of words is so poignant, so alive, it makes you feel as though you’re really there with Boromir, watching him fall, save Merry and Pippin, and redeem his greed with his life.

    Tolkien shows us through these characters, these people who are so flawed, that yes, there is sin and sorrow and suffering, but there is also hope. Because despite all they did, there was redemption, and noble sacrifice, and a worthy end.

Tolkien Blog Party | Tag

     Hallo and happy Saturday to you all! You may already be aware, but today concludes the Tolkien Blog Party hosted at The Edge of the Precipice—click here to read the original post and join the fun!

    I’d originally planned to do a post on the humanity of Tolkien’s characters (particularly Boromir and Thorin) and Why It Matters—however, because of my Extraordinarily Busy Schedule, it won’t be done in time for Tolkien Week. (I do plan to finish it though!) Nonetheless, I do have for you today some answers to a lovely Tolkien-themed tag! So without further ado, let’s get started. ;P

1. The Shire:  What place in Middle-earth do you think you would feel the most like home for you?

    To be completely honest, I’ve got to say the Shire. Yes, yes, I know it’s what everyone says, but that’s for a reason, I think. It’s so very beautiful and home-y and comfortable—and anyway, who wouldn’t want to live in Bag-End?

2. Bree:  If you could create a Middle-earth-themed restaurant, what would you serve there?

    I’m picturing it as kind of like a bed-and-breakfast. There would be lembas bread with butter and preserves, perhaps some athelas tea (I don’t know if that’s a thing, but I don’t really care), and mostly a hobbit-ish cuisine.

3. Rivendell:  Where in Middle-earth would you like to hang out with your friends for a week or so?

    Frankly I’d love to go to Rohan. It’s so beautiful and free—and horses. Who could say no to horses?

4. Moria:  Have you ever delved into the history of Middle-earth (or the history of Tolkien's creative process)?  If so, did you learn anything cool you'd like to share?

       …yes, actually. Perhaps a wee bit too much. This is not a boast, but just a fact, when I say that I’ve probably read almost everything Tolkien ever wrote. I’ve also discovered a serious interest in philology and the creation of his languages, which are incredible.

This (very long, but worth every word) essay is on Tolkien’s invented languages.

5. Lothlorien:  Would you like to sleep in a tree?

    That sounds like great fun!

6. Edoras:  Do you like horses?

    Very much so. (See response to the Rivendell question…)

7. Minas Tirith:  Have you ever dressed as a Tolkien character, whether for a convention or Halloween or anything else?  (Bonus fake internet points if you share a photo!)

    No photo, sadly, but yes, I have! It was some time ago, but I’ve been Arwen, Luthíen, and an archer vaguely reminiscent of Legolas. 

…why is this picture so dramatic?

8. Erebor:  Do you have any Middle-earth merchandise you particularly treasure?

    Yes, I’m afraid I’m That Person. I’ve got a full-size (and very sharp) replica of Andúril, Aragorn’s sword, and I’m quite proud of it too. 

9. Mordor:  Have you ever read anything by Tolkien that wasn't about Middle-earth?

    Yes! (Should I be concerned that the answer to all of these are yes?) Anyhow, I’ve read a number of his letters, his essay on philology, Letters from Father Christmas, and a number of his short stories including (but not limited to) Farmer Giles of Ham and Smith of Wooton Major.

10. The Grey Havens:  How long has it been since you last ventured into Middle-earth via book or film?

    The last time I’ve read the books in their entirety was last February for a retreat (about which I posted), but I’ve since then re-read The Hobbit and re-watched all six of Peter Jackson’s films. (Which I do love, but they are not as good as the books for Obvious Reasons.) 

    Well, that’s it! I hope you enjoyed it, and I’ll try to get that other post out soon (even if it’s not in time for Tolkien Week). 

Soli Deo Gloria, 

Astrya

Inklings | September Edition

   What-ho! 

    Well, I’m back (to quote Samwise Gamgee). Back to internet access and homework and Such Things. The next part of my (still unnamed) story will be coming sometime soon, but now it’s time for the September Inklings prompt! This month it’s a scene in a kitchen in book or film. 

   Today’s selection comes (somewhat predictably, I admit) from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. It may also serve as a Celebration Post, for today in 1937 The Hobbit was first published and tomorrow’s Hobbit Day (being the combined birthdays of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins.) So, happy Hobbit Weekend, everyone (that’s not what it’s officially called, of course, but it just seems to make sense… oh, bother. You get what I mean, right?)

I’m quoting from the book, but this scene of the movie was done So Well, so I’ll be using pictures throughout. (Credit to New Line Cinema, of course!)

    Right.

    Ahem. Anyhow, let’s set the scene. Picture a large kitchen—Bilbo’s kitchen, in fact—beautifully furnished with wood carvings and porcelain plates and hobbit-sized pantries in the back. That’s where our scene begins—until our lovely friends the dwarves arrive and begin singing riotously, of course.

    What fun!

    The dwarves ate and ate, and talked and talked, and time got on. At last they pushed their chairs back, and Bilbo made a move to collect the plates and glasses. 
    “I suppose you will all stay to supper?” he said in his politest unpressing tones.
    “Of course!” said Thorin. “And after. We shan’t get through the business till late, and we must have some music first. Now to clear up!”
    Thereupon the twelve dwarves—not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed talking to Gandalf—jumped to their feet, and made tall piles of all the things. Off they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns of plates, each with a bottle on the top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright: “Please be careful!” and “Please, don’t trouble! I can manage.” But the dwarves only started to sing:  

          

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!

Blunt the knives and bend the forks!

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates–

Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!

Pour the milk on the pantry floor!

Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!

Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;

Pound them up with a thumping pole;

And when you’ve finished, if any are whole,

Send them down the hall to roll!

That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!

So, carefully! carefully with the plates!

    And of course they did none of these dreadful things, and everything was cleaned and put away safe as quick as lightning, while the hobbit was turning round and round in the middle of the kitchen trying to see what they were doing. Then they went back, and found Thorin with his feet on the fender smoking a pipe. 

    Isn’t this such a fun scene? Poor Bilbo’s quite overwhelmed (he’d like to insert here that those dwarves had No Blithering Right to toss his mother’s finest china about like that, and even though they did become his friends he still Vividly Remembers the shock it gave him) and the dwarves aren’t the most polite of guests. 

    It’s nothing, really, compared to what happened Afterwards (see the Burglary Contract, in which Incineration is mentioned multiple times) but still quite overwhelming—from Bilbo’s side—and laughable—from mine. Though, if the likes of Thorin Oakenshield and Company came waltzing into my kitchen with No Manners Whatsoever, I’m not sure I’d react any better than Bilbo.

Said reaction right here ^

    I’d probably smack His Majesty in the forehead with a spatula and tell him to get out until he learns a) manners and b) that No One is too important to sing fun songs. 

    Ya hear me, Thorin? That’s right. 

    (I would like to note, here, that I actually Rather Like Thorin… but the admonition remains.)

    Anyhow, this is one absurd and wonderful scene. What would you do if twelve dwarves (likely in need of a Very Thorough Bath) showed up at your door?

Namarië, 

Astrya