In Letter 165, written for the Houghton Mifflin Company (J.R.R. Tolkien's American publisher) on 5 June 1955, Tolkien explained himself for the sake of future "enquirers" who would need reference to material about Tolkien's background and to elaborate on some points he had made in a letter written to Harvey Breit of the New York Times, because Breit's article had left Tolkien feeling defensive and misrepresented. Breit had quoted Tolkien at one point as saying, "I am a philologist, and all my work is philological. I avoid hobbies because I am a very serious person and cannot distinguish between private amusement and duty." Concerning this point, Tolkien wrote in Letter 165:

If I might elucidate what H. Breit has made of my letter: the remark about 'philology' was intended to allude to what is I think a primary 'fact' about my work [The Lord of the Rings], that it is all of a piece, and fundamentally linguistic in inspiration. The authorities of the university might well consider it an aberration of an elderly professor of philology to write and publish fairy stories and romances, and call it a 'hobby', pardonable because it has been (suprisingly to me as much as to anyone) successful. But it is not a 'hobby', in the sense of something quite different from one's work, taken up as a relief-outlet. The invention of languages is the foundation. The 'stories' were made rather to provide a world for the language than the reverse. To me a name comes first and the story follows. I should have preferred to write in 'Elvish'. But, of course, such a work as The Lord of the Rings has been edited and only as much 'language' has been left in as I thought would be stomached by readers. (I now find that many would have liked more.) But there is a great deal of linguistic matter (other than actually 'elvish' names and words) included or mythologically expressed in the book. It is to me, anyway, largely an essay in 'linguistic aesthetic', as I sometimes say to people who ask me 'what is it all about?'

It is not 'about' anything but itself. Certainly it has no allegorical intentions, general, particular, topical, moral, religious, or political. The only criticism that annoyed me was one that it 'contained no religion' (and 'no Women', but that does not matter and is not true anyway). It is a monotheistic world of 'natural theology'. The odd fact that there are no churches, temples, or religious rites and ceremonies, is simply part of the historical climate depicted. It will be sufficiently explained, if (as now seems likely) the Silmarillion and other legends of the First and Second Ages are published. I am in any case myself a Christian: but the 'Third Age' was not a Christian world.

While Tolkien's stress on the lack of allegorical intentions in his story has merited much hemming and hawing among commentators, his allegory-like elements are usually held to be applicable to allegorical interpretation by reverent scholars and as conspicuous examples of Tolkien's double-dealing by less respectful writers. Nonetheless, even the most deferential observers cannot help but notice parallels between Tolkien's stories and numerous sources such as The Bible. For though the world of Third Age Middle-earth is clearly not Christian in detail, it is nonetheless proto-Judaic and pre-Christian in design. The "good guys" know there is a God and they generally abide by the guidance of his emissaries, the Valar (and their representatives, including the Istari).

But Tolkien describes the work as "an essay in the 'linguistic aesthetic'" without fully explaining what that means. He asserts that there is a philological core to the process of invention he applied: he devised names and then built stories around them. That is an oversimplification of the intricate process Christopher Tolkien documents in the several volumes of The History of Middle-earth which reveal how his father developed the story. For example, the original character whose role and function Faramir usurped was named Falborn son of Anborn. Falborn was not Boromir's brother, but merely a relative. As Tolkien wrote the chapter "Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit", he transformed Falborn into Faramir and developed Faramir's background, largely because he realized a need to bring Falborn/Faramir closer to Boromir in order to emotionally justify and strengthen Faramir's connecton to Boromir.

Tolkien's use of the expression "linguistic aesthetic", on the other hand, invites blatant comparison to his beliefs, professional work, and real-world experience. Tolkien himself asserted on one occasion (in Letter 142) that "The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work: unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision." In order to reconcile this admission with his anti-allegory position, commentators have scoured the realms of whimsy, fantasy, and philology in order to illuminate Tolkien's Catholic and Philological intentions.

Now, most everyone has heard or devised a comparison between Galadriel and Mary. Marianic symbology has been mined deeper than the fabled vein of Mithril the Dwarves found in Moria. The quest for "Christ-like figures" has drafted Gandalf, Aragorn, Frodo, and even good old Sam Gamgee for hard labor in the stodgiest of perforated analyses. Biblical imagery is perceived in just about any passage that has someone weeping, sighing, or gnashing their teeth. It may be that someone has even proposed a connection between Bill the Pony and Balaam's Ass. The point is, if point there must be, we've only just begun to maul the Bible as a source of mythopoeic transformation with respect to Tolkien. I believe we can derive elusive facts from just about any passage.

As when Frodo looked into Galadriel's mirror, she claimed only to have shared his vision of the Eye of Sauron; and Sam did not see Galadriel's ring like Frodo did, but he thought he had seen a star shining through her finger. We need not delve so deep as to seek Sauron's eye or rings upon the fingers of Elves, but we can look at those shining stars and imagine that they are more than stars. The chief fun comes from plucking these shining star-like things from random pages where one least expects to uncover another esoteric reference to anything significant. All that is to say, I think I've found a few things worth mentioning. Don't worry about whether Tolkien saw them: I see them. Perhaps you will, too.

For example, it may be a little known (and largely unimportant) fact that, for a while, Tolkien had established the Quenya/Sindarin words Yende/Ien as the Elvish words for "daughter" (originally, Tolkien used Yel/Iel, and Quenya expert Helge Fauskanger suggests that JRRT may have restored those forms because of their use in a post-LoTR text). The significance of Tolkien's use of "-ien" as a suffix for daughter is that it provides the armchair philologist with some interesting possibilities for alternative meanings, meanings which though not canonical may nonetheless bear some fruit, at least when no officious Ruffians are about to scoff and scatter the speculative masses of Hobbitry-in-Armchairs.

Thus, the name "Luthien", usually translated as "enchantress", might also be construed as "daughter of magic", "daughter of enchantment" (Fauskanger notes that the primitive form of the name, Luktiênê, may mean "enchantment-female"). Figuratively, the "daughter of -" construction could refer to Luthien's mother Melian, who was a powerful enchantress in her own right. But for me the more interesting uses of "-ien" are found in names such as "Anorien" and "Ithilien". When Tolkien first gave names to these regions of Gondor, he used "Anarion" and "Ithilien". Anarion, of course, was Isildur's brother (or became his brother). But there was never a character named Ithilien.

The name "Ithilien" is usually translated as "land of (the) Moon", where the moon is symbolically identified with Isildur (whose name means "servant of the moon"). Isildur's fortress was Minas Ithil, "tower of (the) moon". Minas Ithil was built in the Ephel Duath, the "(outer) fences of shadow", the high mountains standing between Mordor and Gondor. Isildur built his city in a valley where he could look down upon the land he governed directly. Using the "-ien/daughter" constuction, "Ithilien" might then mean "daughter of (the) moon", or Isildur's daughter, though in all likelihood it only meant "(Isildur's) land".

By the same token, Anorien, which the city of Minas Anor ("Tower of the Sun", built at the southern end of the Ered Nimrais) overlooked, might be translated as "daughter of (the) sun", although in all likelihood it only mean "(Anarion's) land". Regardless of how they are translated, these names are symbolic and they refer to their first lords, Isildur and Anarion, who together were the first kings of Gondor. The descendants of Isildur and Anarion were held to be members of the House of Elendil, each family belonging to a "Line of ..." rather than a specific, separate house (or cadet house, sub-house, out-house, or whatever alternative you might propose).

Because of his upbringing and education, Tolkien had more than a passing knowledge of Biblical idiom and symbology. There are a few "daughter of Zion", "daughter of Babylon" passages which refer to the land and people of Israel (daughter of Zion) and to other nations (daughter of Babylon). The imagery of Ithilien being the daughter of the moon (Isildur), meaning the land (and people) of Isildur, is very Biblical even if it is not what Tolkien intended. Other Van-Danikenesque Bible associations exist as well.

For example, Isaiah 19:18-10 says: "In that day there will be five cities in the land of Egypt which speak the language of Canaan and swear allegiance to the Lord of hosts. One of these cities will be called the City of the Sun. In that day there will be an altar to the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt, and a pillar to the Lord at its border." Tolkien used Egypt in his personal symbology (Letter 250: "...But I am one who came up out of Egypt, and pray God none of my seed shall return thither"). And he compared the Numenoreans to the Egyptians:

The Numenoreans of Gondor were proud, peculiar, and archaic, and I think are best pictured in (say) Egyptian terms. In many ways they resembled 'Egyptians' -- the love of, and power to construct, the gigantic and massive. And in their great interest in ancestry and in tombs. (But not of course in 'theology': in which respect they were Hebraic and even more puritan -- but this would take long to set out: to explain indeed why there is proactically no overt 'religion', or rather religious acts or places or ceremonies among the 'good' or anti-Sauronian peoples in The Lord of the Rings.) I think the crown of Gondor (the S. Kingdom) was very tall, like that of Egypt, but with wings attached, not set straight back but at an angle.

The N. Kingdom had only a diadem (III 323). Cf. the difference between the N. and S. kingdoms of Egypt.

The comparison to Egypt leads one to think about the five regions of Gondor (Anorien, Ithilien, Lebennin, Belfalas, and Calenardhon) which comprised the early kingdom. And Isaiah's "City of the Sun" immediately calls to mind Tolkien's Minas Anor, renamed Minas Tirith after the fall of Minas Ithil. Although there are no altars in Gondor, the Tower of Ecthelion seems very much like a pillar as it rises up above the city of Minas Tirith. The city itself is built on the edge of Mindolluin and once served as a border fortress, defending Gondor against the "wild men of the mountains". And upon Mindolluin there was a hallowed place where Aragorn found a sapling of the White Tree.

I began thinking of these similarities between Tolkien's descriptions of Gondor (and its history) and events and places described in the Bible as I read a fascinating biographical account of Haym Solomon, an American Jew who helped to finance our War of Independence from England, and who designed the Great Seal (displayed on the back of the American dollar bill), and who also wrote the first draft of our constitution. It is to Haym Solomon that the United States owes the expression "One Nation, Under God". His contributions to American heritage long went unrecognized and uncelebrated, no doubt because of anti-Semitism and because we tend to glorify our war-heroes and Presidents (among whom Solomon's friend George Washington stands tall in our pride) more than anyone else in our history (I, however, am forever indebted to George Washington Carver for inventing peanut butter, but I cannot yet find a Tolkien or Bible connection in my favorite sandwich).

What struck my Tolkienien interest in the Haym Solomon article was a reference to the story of David at Ein Gedi, an oasis in Israel, the name of which means "the (well-)spring of the kid (a goat kid)". David and his men, pursued by King Saul, sought refuge in the Crags of the Ibex (wild goats) near Ein Gedi. As Saul's army approached, a large spider spun a web across the entrance to the cave behind the waterfall, and Saul's men concluded that no one was hiding in the cave. Saul himself stopped in the cave, and David's men urged him to kill Saul. David instead tore a piece of cloth from Saul's cloak, and following Saul David revealed what he had done. Saul was so touched that he was reconciled with David.

Hidden caves, waterfalls, and giant spiders should ring some bells for Tolkien fans. After all, Faramir took Frodo and Sam to the secret refuge of Henneth Annun, which was a cave hidden behind a waterfall in Ithilien. Like Ithilien, Ein Gedi was a rich and bountiful land filled with trees, plants, and wildlife. Even today it is the heart of a wildlife reserve in Israeln near the modern Kibbutz of En Gedi. In Henneth Annun, Faramir had a chance to take the Ring from Frodo -- just as David had the chance to kill Saul. But Faramir refrained from seizing power for himself, just as David refrained from doing so. Both men proved their worth by resisting temptation and doing the right thing.

Faramir eventually succeeded his father Denethor as Steward of Gondor. But though Faramir laid down his rule of the kingdom in favor of Aragorn, Aragorn made Farmir Prince of Ithilien. David eventually became King of Israel. So, symbolically, Faramir became the ruler of the daughter of Isildur just as David became the ruler of the daughter of Zion. But the story of David and Saul bears another resemblance to the story of Faramir and Denethor. Denethor, like Saul, had expected his older son (Boromir) to succeed him.

When Saul learned that rule over Israel would pass to David, Saul tried to kill David. Denethor, driven mad by grief over Boromir's death and despair over the war with Sauron, eventually tried to kill Faramir. And like Saul, who had to contend with an invasion by the Philistines while he was angry with David, Denethor had to contend with an invasion by Mordor's forces while he struggled with his grief over Boromir, which led him to place Faramir in peril.

The name "Henneth Annun" is translated "window of the sunset" because the cave looked out west (toward Numenor and the setting sun). "Henneth" is derived from "hen, khen" (eye) with either a possessive suffix or a possible suffix of "-et" (out). A possessive "eye's" (see's) word used for window doesn't make much sense (to me, the armchair philologist), but "eye + out" (see + out) seems pefectly fine. The English word "window" is said to be derived from Old Norse "vindr + auga" (wind + eye), and was a kenning (a poetic metaphor) for an opening in a wall through which one could see. The wind came in, and the eye looked out. Other kennings employed by the Old Norse (and their relatives, including many Germanic peoples such as the Anglo-Saxons) included "oar+steed" (ship) and "whale+road" (sea). So, "eye + out" seems like a perfectly reasonable kenning to me, as far as the etymology of "henneth" goes. Your methodology may produce different results from mine.

Although Tolkien doesn't mention any goats at Henneth Annun, his description of the refuge is very similar to the description of Ein Gedi. And there is another striking resemblance between a place in Ithilien and a well-known Israeli landmark. Henneth Annun was not very far from Minas Morgul, which had once been the city of Minas Ithil. As I mentioned previously, Minas Ithil/Morgul was a fortress (city) Isildur had built in the mountains. Just a few miles from the oasis of Ein Gedi stood the mountain-top fortress called Masada (whose name means "fortress, mountain fortress" in Hebrew).

Built by Herod a century before their rebellion, Masada was the last refuge of the Zealots in the Jewish revolt against the Roman Empire that began in the year 66 and lasted until 73 BCE. The arid region was so dry and preserving that barley laid in store by Herod reportedly sustained the Zealots during the seige. The Romans besieged Eleazar ben Ya'ir and his followers for two years, eventually constructing a ramp which led up to the fortress. When the Zealots realized they could not withstand the Roman assault, they killed their families, cast lots and allowed ten men to kill the others, and the remaining ten cast lots again, so that one man killed the remaining nine and then took his own life.

Tolkien doesn't tell us the story of the fall of Minas Ithil, but one must wonder what became of the inhabitants of the city, who held out against the Nazgul and their army for two years. Did they, too, finally take their lives rather than become slaves to the enemy? Or did they simply fight until the last man dropped, riddled with arrows as Boromir would be slain more than a thousand years later?

Endor and Erech two of those curious names that people questioned Tolkien about. Did he lift them from the Bible? Not according to Letter 297, in which Tolkien wrote:

The element (n)dor 'land', probably owes something to say such names as Labrador (a name that might as far as style and structure goes be Sindarin). But not to Scriptural Endor. This is a case in reverse, showing how 'investigation' without knowledge of he real events might go astray. Endor S. Ennor (cf. the collective pl. ennorath I 250) was invented as the Elvish equivalent of Middle-earth by combining the already devised en(ed) 'middle' and (n)dor 'land (mass)', producing a supposedly ancient compound Q. Endor, S. Ennor. When made I of course observed its accidental likeness to En-dor (I Sam. xxviii), but the congruence is in fact accidental, and therefore the necromantic witch consulted by Saul has no connexion or significance for The L.R....

I may mention two cases where I was not, at the time of making use of them, aware of 'borrowing', but where it is probable, but by no means certain, that the names were nonetheless 'echoes'. Erech, the place where Isildur set the covenant-stone. This of course fits the style of the predominantly Sindarin nomenclature of Gondor (or it would not have been used), as it would do historically, even if it was, as it is now convenient to suppose, actually a pre-Numenorean name of long-forgotten meaning. Since naturally, as one interested in antiquity and notably in the history of languages and 'writing', I knew and had read a good deal about Mesopotamia, I must have known Erech the name of that most ancient city. Nonetheless at the time of writing L.R. Book V chs. II and IX (originally a continuous narrative, but divided for obvious constructional reasons) and devising a legend to provide for the separation of Aragorn from Gandalf, and his disappearance and unexpected return, I was probably more influenced by the important element ER (in Elvish) = 'one, single, alone'. In any case the fact that Erech is a famous name is of no importance to The L.R. and no connexions in my mind or intention between Mesopotamia and the Numenoreans or the predecessors can be deduced.

Well...let me just say this about that. One of the curious facts about Erech (that is, the historical Erech from Mesopotamia) is that its name was eventually corrupted to Uruk. Sound familiar? Just wait. It gets spookier. The city of Erech was first excavated in the 1850s, long before Tolkien took up the pen and began writing about "great green dragons" and wondering why it was improper to put things so.

By 1913, just before the First World War broke out, another excavation at Erech had uncovered the temple of Ishtar (sounds like Istari to me), one of four temples located in the city. Part of the city wall, estimated to stand 40-50 feet high, was uncovered by the same expedition. In later years, the city wall was found to be 5-1/2 miles long and it encompassed the entire city. Bad timing prevents us from throwing in a real bargain: in 1954, Heinrich Lenzen discovered clay tablets at Erech, written in Sumerian, dating to about 5400 years ago, which included the "Kings List". Tolkien devised list of kings for just about every group that moved across the Anduin. Are we looking at a coincidence here, or perhaps was Tolkien visited by aliens in the spaceships of Ezekiel?

Tolkien himself tightened the Mesopotamian connection when he wrote the essay now known as "Rivers and Beacon-hills of Gondor" by translating "Minhiriath" as "Mesopotamia". Both names mean "between the rivers", and Tolkien must have been giving some thought to the matter when he wasn't finding off investigative questions from curious readers and reporters. Quite a few armchair Tolkienologists have noticed Minas Tirith's vague resemblance to a ziggurat (seven levels, each smaller than the lower ones, ascending toward heaven).

All of which proves absolutely nothing, of course, except that when the well runs dry and mosses grows over formerly tumbling stones, there is yet a wealth of information and speculation to be discovered, lying dormant in the works of Tolkien and the chronicles of Time. While it seems highly improbable that Gondor owes anything at all to the history of Erech and Mesopotamia in general, one should not forget that Tolkien himself immediately identified a connection with the first book of Samuel while writing The Lord of the Rings. It is reasonable to ask just how much he may have been influenced by one of the oldest published sources of Judeo-Christian literature.

Michael Martinez is the author of Visualizing Middle-earth (ISBN 0-7388-3408-4), Parma Endorion: Essays on Middle-earth, 3rd Edition, and Understanding Middle-earth (ISBN 1-58776-145-9).