Tolkien’s dwarvish (not dwarfish) names

Confusticate and bebother these dwarves: Bilbo tries to keep names like Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Bifur and Bofur straight.

For all that Tolkien devoted The Silmarillion to the vast history of the Elves (and, to a lesser extent, Men), it’s clear from The Hobbit (and in the characterization of Gimli in The Lord of the Rings) that he had a soft spot for Dwarves.

In the first place, Thorin Oakenshield isn’t the leader of a band of three or seven or even nine dwarves, but thirteen; and, remarkably, they all have personalities and relationships and are pretty well fleshed out for secondary characters.

But where did Tolkien find such distinctive dwarvish names as Fili, Kili, Dwalin, Oin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, among others?

The total-nerd Tolkien reading plan

If you’ve never read Tolkien, you may be wondering where the ideal place is to start.  Ironically, it’s not at the beginning.

The title page, of the book "The Silmaril...Tolkien began working on the stories that would form the history and mythology of his Middle-earth while still a young man; he even worked on it sporadically as a soldier in the First World War.  So those tales, eventually collected posthumously as The Silmarillion, are properly the beginning of the story of Middle-earth.

However, the first of the books to be published was The Hobbit, which is set in the Third Age of Tolkien’s world. (The Silmarillion, including the later portions which deal with Númenor, is mainly concerned with the First Age and Second Age, as well as the vast period before recorded history.)

Werewolf Wednesday: Soundtrack of the Apocalypse

For those who don’t know, Jason McKinney is an author who has tackled zombies (Memoirs of the Dead), werewolves (Dog World and Dog ‘Verse) and both at the same time (Werewolves of the Dead).  One thing I really wanted to know, since his latest novel deals with the  (inevitable) werewolf apocalypse, was what would make his playlist? Check your music catalogue and crank up your iPod so you, too, can be ready.

Why I read Tolkien

In a school newspaper article back when I started grade ten, a snippet of advice for would-be readers of fantasy ran thus: “Read Tolkien. Live Tolkien. Love Tolkien. Memorize Tolkien. Tolkien, we would like to note, has absolutely nothing to do with inhaling drugs.”

Fortunately, at 14, I was already up to speed on the creator of hobbits, Middle-earth and rings of power.

Parson, composer, werewolf hunter: Sabine Baring-Gould

Sabine Baring-Gould is by no means a celebrity today, but in the 19th century he brought a modern sensibility to an ancient body of superstitions: werewolf lore.

Portrait of Sabine Baring-Gould
Portrait of Sabine Baring-Gould (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I first came across his name thanks to A Very Special Christmas, of all things. On the 1987 compilation album, among the carols recorded by the then-current crop of rock stars was “Gabriel’s Message,” by Sting. The liner notes credited S. Baring-Gould as the composer.

Born in 1834, the Rev. Sabine Baring-Gould was a prolific writer, composer and collector of folklore. Among his scores of published works  are a multi-volume Lives of the Saints, hymns including  “Onward, Christian Soldiers,” and The Book of Were-Wolves, a classic survey of werewolf folklore first published in 1865.

For fans of gothic literature, the first chapter alone makes the book worth picking up. As the introduction in the edition I have puts it, Baring-Gould’s account of his stumbling across pervasive belief in werewolves while on holiday in France is worthy of a Victorian novel.

Terror that stays with you

There are some childhood fears we outgrow, but some still have the power to terrify us.

Terror through the eyes of a child is the focus of the first anthology of short stories from Sirens Call Publications, Childhood Nightmares: Under the Bed.

Included are stories by Julianne Snow, Colin F. Barnes,  Nina D’Arcangela (who also worked on the production of the book), Phil Hickes, Amber Keller, Kim Krodel, Lisamarie Lamb, John McIlveen, Kate Monroe, Brandon Scott, Joshua Skye, and Jack Wallen. Roughly half had previously been published through Sirens Call.

Most are from the child’s perspective, though the fears of adults are woven into the stories as well. In Wallen’s “Forgotten,” parental guilt is inextricably linked to a child’s ghostly encounter. In Snow’s “Madeleine,” a child’s night terrors cause her mother increasing concern until a great-aunt provides an unorthodox solution.

Kalla Monahan and Nina D’Arcangela both read submissions and were involved in the editorial process behind the collection.

“No one experiences horror like a child,” says D’Arcangela.