Lord of the Rings Is not “Low Magic”

There is an argument I have often seen bandied about that Lord of the Rings is a “low magic” setting. It probably comes up elsewhere, but I often see it brought up in regards to Lord of the Rings Online. In particular it is at the centre of the unending controversy over the game’s rune-keeper class, which is essentially a mage.

The Fellowship of the RingI am a lifelong Lord of the Rings fan who has read the books and watched the movies more times than I can count, and I am completely baffled by this belief in a non-magical Lord of the Rings.

Lord of the Rings isn’t low magic. Lord of the Rings is dripping in magic.

Magic is everywhere in Middle-Earth. Before the Hobbits even make it to Bree in the Fellowship of the Ring, they encounter evil psychic trees, are saved by an immortal nature spirit, spend the night in his enchanted home, get bewitched by evil ghosts, and steal a bunch of magic blades from them. And all that is just a tangent the movies didn’t even bother to cover.

Also in the Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a scene where Gandalf basically blows up a small hill just to chase off some wolves. Saruman calls forth incredible storms to drive the Fellowship back from Caradhras. Glorfindel (or Arwen in the movie) is able to drive off the Nazgul by unleashing the inherent power of Rivendell.

The Mirror of Galadriel. The Light of Earendil. Sting. Ent-draughts. It just keeps going. The Elves were so suffused with magic that the mere touch of anything wrought by their hands caused Gollum excruciating pain. And did you think that the Lorien cloaks kept their wearers so well hidden just through clever stitching? That a few bites of lembas a day can sustain a person for weeks simply because the Elves are good bakers?

Art of Gandalf battling the Baelrog in Lord of the RingsThe counter to all this might be that these examples all involve very special people. Gandalf, Saruman, and the Elves are immortals with abilities far beyond that of mere humans. Magic is out of reach of the ordinary person in Middle-Earth.

Is it, though?

Aragorn is mortal, yet his mastery of healing quite clearly comes from more than a simple knowledge of herbs and medicine. The Oathbreakers were cursed to undeath by Isildur, then commanded and subsequently released by Aragorn. Most tellingly, the Mouth of Sauron, a mortal man, is said to have learned great sorcery from the Dark Lord himself. This shows magic can be taught in Lord of the Rings.

Now these are Numenoreans and therefore still a bit beyond your garden variety human. But there are other examples.

Even Samwise Gamgee, a simple Hobbit gardener, is able to make hardened Orcs flinch before him simply by shouting a few Elvish phrases. He’s able to regrow the trees of the Shire using naught but a small pouch of soil from Lorien.

Even the humblest resident of Middle-Earth is therefore capable of wielding some degree of supernatural power, and one can imagine someone with more time and inclination to study ancient lore and seek out objects of power could accomplish quite a lot. Perhaps they might not equal Gandalf in power, but still…

The Necromancer reveals himself in The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five ArmiesConsider, also, that for a time Sauron masqueraded as “the Necromancer of Mirkwood.” Necromancers had to be a relatively common thing for him to not be immediately identified as his true self.

Although we don’t see a lot of mortal magic-wielders in Lord of the Rings, it is my opinion that they certainly could have existed, and probably did in some number. To get back to LotRO, then, I see nothing wrong with the rune-keeper.

Magic is everywhere in Lord of the Rings, so where did this perception that’s it’s a low magic setting come from?

I don’t know. Fanon is a strange thing at the best of times, and this is definitely one of the weirder examples I’ve seen in my time, all the more so for how widespread the misconception has become.

The one explanation I can come up with is perhaps it has to do with the fact magic in Lord of the Rings tends to be less visually flashy than you see in other settings. Magic in Tolkien’s universe tends to be more often about influencing minds and emotions than about flinging fireballs and lightning bolts. The magic is very common and very powerful, but it is subtle, so maybe that’s how people have come to dismiss it.

The poster for the Fellowship of the Ring movieI can especially see this being the case for people who are more familiar with the movies than the books. The medium of film cannot easily convey things like how the heart is seized with unnatural terror in the presence of the Nazgul, or the serenity that can be bestowed by the Elves and their works.

Even then, though, there are still plenty of more dramatic examples of magic in Lord of the Rings, so it still doesn’t make much sense.

It is a great mystery. How have people convinced themselves the story that created the high fantasy genre is not high fantasy?

Review: The Dragon Apocalypse, Cinder

It’s been many long years of waiting, but I’ve finally gotten my hands on the fourth and final book of James Maxey’s wildly original Dragon Apocalypse series, Cinder.

Cover art for Cinder, book four of the Dragon Apocalypse series by James MaxeyThis is a series with a strange history. The first book, Greatshadow, is easily one of the best novels I’ve ever read, but while the following volumes still had many strengths, the truth is it’s pretty much been downhill from there. That sounds harsher than I mean it to, but the fact remains that while I’ve enjoyed each book, I’ve enjoyed each one less than the previous.

Part of this is due to the strange structure of the series. Halfway through, the Dragon Apocalypse changed its main character and its entire writing style. It was a jarring transition I still haven’t fully adjusted to.

It also seems there has been some real world turbulence for the series. I’m not clear on what exactly the story is, but Cinder seemed to take an awfully long time to make it to market, and it’s now under a different publisher than the previous books.

The change in publishers definitely wasn’t an upgrade, either, as the quality of the product has taken a hit. I have never seen a professional novel with anywhere near this many typos.

But whatever the journey, Cinder is finally here now.

It is a book of inconsistent quality. Once again, there’s been a shake-up of perspective. Now the novel’s perspective shifts regularly between the series’ large cast of characters, and while many of these characters are familiar, a lot of attention is spent on a new character, the book’s namesake, Cinder.

Cinder is the daughter of Stagger and Infidel. Conceived in the spirit realm, she has skin as black as midnight and the ability to shift between the physical and abstract realms at will.

Cinder is one of my main problems with the book, because I find her fairly dull in comparison to most of the other characters. This is the same problem I had with Sorrow in the last book, though ironically by now Sorrow has grown on me and I would have liked to have seen her get more attention this time.

It should also be noted that the long gap between Cinder and the previous book left my memory of the series to date rather atrophied, and that also probably hindered my enjoyment of the story. In retrospect I should have reread the rest of the series first, but my impatience got the better of me, and I spent the first few chapters mostly trying to remember who everyone was and what was going on.

However, my biggest problem with Cinder is that it feels very, very rushed. In this fourth and final installment, the Dragon Apocalypse has come at last, the primal dragons of ice and storm uniting to destroy the world of humanity and plunge the world into an eternal blizzard.

Cinder deals with spectacular, earth-shattering events. It has a massive cast of characters whose stories need closure. And it tries to deal with all this in less than 300 pages. There’s just not enough time to give everyone and everything its due.

If ever there was a series that should have been spread out to ten or so books, this was it. The Dragon Apocalypse boasts one of the most brilliantly colourful and wildly inventive settings in all of fantasy, with no shortage of bizarre and awe-inspiring places, creatures, characters, and concepts. Four short books simply isn’t enough to do justice to the world or its story.

Still, I don’t like dumping on this book so much. Partly this is because I have spent some time speaking with James Maxey in the past (briefly, several years ago, over email), and I found him to be very humble and gracious and an all around good guy.

And partly there is still a fair bit to appreciate in Cinder. As mentioned above, the setting of the Dragon Apocalypse still offers no shortage of wonders. I love the concept of the primal dragons, immortal beings whose souls have fused with the fundamental aspects of the natural world, and Cinder more so than any of its predecessors shows off the terrible grandeur of the primal dragons.

There are also still many great characters in the story, even if Cinder herself didn’t blow me away. It was great to see Infidel back in action, even if her role was relatively small, and I’d happily read an entire series devoted to the adventures of the Romer clan. Seriously, Gale is awesome; can we get a book that’s all about her?

Cover art for the complete Dragon Apocalypse collection by James MaxeyAnd I have to say that I did really like how it ended. Without spoiling anything, I think there’s a beautiful poetry to the final conclusion of Stagger and Infidel’s long, bizarre story.

In the end, it does remain true that every Dragon Apocalypse book is less enjoyable than the previous, but it started from such lofty heights that even after four books, the end result is not bad.

Overall rating: 7/10

I do want to say again that despite whatever flaws the series might have developed after, Greatshadow is one of the best books I’ve ever read and something that is absolutely worth your time. It’s a hilarious, heartfelt, and brilliantly strange story that I can guarantee is not like anything you’ve read before.