When Eärendil is set to sail the skies with a Silmaril on his brow as a sign of hope for Middle-earth, Elrond is left behind to gaze from afar at his father's star. In his state of loss, Elrond does more than merely remember his sire; he becomes the keeper of his father's lore, his family's story, and the long history of the elves. Without his faithful preservation of the wisdom of the Elder Days, Bilbo would never have passed on what he learnt at Rivendell, and we readers would lack our detailed and treasured understanding of how the secondary world began.
Elrond was a devoted steward of that bright but distant star. I like to think that whenever the Silmaril illuminated the skies above Imladris, Eärendil would have been smiling down on his good son.
When J.R.R. Tolkien passed on in 1973, Christopher Tolkien might simply have mourned the loss of so dear and extraordinary a father. Instead, he opened the doors of the Last Homely House wider for us all, admitting us to the shining refuges of The Silmarillion, The History of Middle-earth, Unfinished Tales, and other works so wonderful that it is almost impossible to imagine being without them.
Christopher's authorship, editorship, and guardianship of the lore must rank among the greatest acts of filial devotion our world has ever known. We are forever in his debt for our ability to see The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings in the context of the great and rich tapestry of which they are but parts. This is a gift of inestimable value to millions of grateful Tolkien readers.
When I set out to paint this portrait of father and son in honor of Christopher's centenary this year, my hope was to give viewers just one glimpse of an imagined moment in time in which the two of them are in quiet converse over shared interest in a book. These were men who loved books and spent their lives in the attainment of surpassing learnedness.
I have never seen a photograph that captured them working together, so I could only strive to see the scene in my mind and draw from the photos I know of. Light passes through the curtains, patterned in oak leaves and acorns, and full of gorgeous Smaug-like reds and golds. The verdant trellis beyond hints at roots and branches. The scent of pipeweed is in the air, as are the sounds of soft, distinctive, wise voices. Spend two minutes with this video short, imagining yourself a fortunate guest in this special room:
What do you imagine you would have heard if you could have been there, in that cozy, book-lined room on such an afternoon? I hope it gives you joy to dream of getting to stand in their presence and to listen, if only for a moment.
When Elrond departs Middle-earth at the end of the Third Age, he knows where he is going. In Valinor, he will be reunited with his dear mother, Elwing. I like to think that she might teach Elrond how to take flight with her to a reunion with his father, at long last.
Particularly in these days, in which so many of us find ourselves scanning the horizons of humanity for hope, the joint endeavor of J.R.R. and Christopher Tolkien continues to shine as a star-like sign, though they have left us behind for the time. It is my hope and comfort to think that, like Eärendil and Elrond, father and son are together again in a Blessed Realm. Keeping the lore alive now falls to others, including us.
This weekend (November 23rd and 24th, 2024), from little homely houses across Middle-earth, Tolkien fans will join in celebration of Christopher's life by setting time aside to listen to the testimonials of some of the world's finest Tolkien scholars, artists, and authors. This event, organized with such care by the Tolkien Society to mark Christopher Tolkien's centenary, gives me the feeling of looking at a sky full of stars following in the wake of the hallowed ship of mithril and of elven-glass. What an illuminating sight. What hope!