Possibly the best part of Tolkien’s writing is his command of dialogue. Take a gander at this segment, from The Return of the King, Book V, Chapter 9:
And now Legolas fell silent, while the others talked, and he looked out against the sun, and as he gazed he saw white sea-birds beating up the River.
‘Look!’ he cried. ‘Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships. Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle-earth; for their wailing voices spoke to me of the Sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm.’
‘Say not so!’ said Gimli. ‘There are countless things still to see in Middle-earth, and great works to do. But if all the fair folk take to the Havens, it wll be a duller world for those who are doomed to stay.’
‘Don’t be so gloomy!’ cried Pippin. ‘The Sun is shining, and here we are together for a day or two at least. I want to hear more about you all. Come, Gimli! You and Legolas have mentioned your strange journey with Strider about a dozen times already this morning. But you haven’t told me anything about it.’
After that sly segue (did you catch it?), and by a work of narrative genius, Gimli reiterates much of an earlier chapter in his own words — along with the remainder of a story thread that Tolkien had left dangling for a hundred pages! What suspense he creates, by this method. The whole time, I was forced to question whether he merely forgot to complete that part of the story. (Oh darn — perhaps I should have warned of spoilers!)
I love this method of including every possible seed of exposition within the dialogue itself — during which, one would presume, all the other characters sit and wait their turns to reply. It conjures up such a great picture of the unusual culture of Middle-earth, reminding me that all of this action takes place in a time and place far removed from my own. Why, if today a person were to spring into a raving, disjointed monologue like that of Legolas, one would only expect a member of his party to strike out at him. It would seem clear that the poor fellow was caught in a fit. But no — far from tackle him or back away in fear, Gimli and the Hobbits humor their Elf.
When Legolas spots a gull and shrieks of his desire to go to sea, they beg him not to go. This is evidence of a much simpler, less jaded time — when people had no need of context. Why, I remember when I was four years old and from an upstairs window I saw my mother march away down the street after a fight with my father; I full expected her never to return. I shouted at the window, pleading with her through the glass and down a story and across the yard, not to leave. (She came back, when she was done mailing a letter.)
It is this famed attention to detail that makes Tolkien such a master at his craft — nay, his art. If only those snooty academics would understand!
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