Read Tales Before Tolkien Online

Authors: Douglas A. Anderson

Tales Before Tolkien

BOOK: Tales Before Tolkien



Edited by Douglas A. Anderson

Ballantine Books • New York


Title Page




"The Elves” by Ludwig Tieck

"The Golden Key” by George MacDonald

"Puss-cat Mew” by E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen

"The Griffin and the Minor Canon” by Frank R. Stockton

"The Demon Pope” by Richard Garnett

"The Story of Sigurd” retold by Andrew Lang

"The Folk of the Mountain Door” by William Morris

"Black Heart and White Heart: A Zulu Idyll” by H. Rider Haggard

"The Dragon Tamers” by E. Nesbit

"The Far Islands” by John Buchan

"The Drawn Arrow” by Clemence Housman

"The Enchanted Buffalo” by L. Frank Baum

"Chu-bu and Sheemish” by Lord Dunsany

"The Baumoff Explosive” by William Hope Hodgson

"The Regent of the North” by Kenneth Morris

"The Coming of the Terror” by Arthur Machen

"The Elf Trap” by Francis Stevens

"The Thin Queen of Elfhame” by James Branch Cabell

"The Woman of the Wood” by A. Merritt

"Golithos the Ogre” by E. A. Wyke-Smith

"The Story of Alwina” by Austin Tappan Wright

"A Christmas Play” by David Lindsay


Author Notes and Recommended Reading


To my sister Sue,
who introduced me to Tolkien's writings


For assistance with various aspects of this anthology, I am grateful to Mike Ashley, David Bratman, Mary Ellen Channon, Joe D'Amico, Joe Doyle, Verlyn Flieger, S. T. Joshi, Tappan King, Colin Manlove, John D. Rateliff, Ray Russell, Gordon Van Gelder, Richard C. West, Benjamin Wright, Nina Wyke-Smith, and Ted Wyke-Smith. A special thanks goes to David Underwood and Betsy Mitchell of Ballantine Books.


For many readers, fantasy begins with J. R. R. Tolkien (1892–1973), the world-renowned creator of Middle-earth, whose history is recounted in
The Hobbit
The Lord of the Rings
(1954–55), and
The Silmarillion
(1977). Fantasy literature, however, did not begin with Tolkien, though he developed it in a manner such that there exists almost a dividing line between fantasy written before Tolkien and fantasy written afterward.

The roots of fantasy extend back to Homer's
and on through the medieval literatures that were Tolkien's specialties as a professor at Oxford. The Anglo-Saxon poem
which concerns a hero and his fight with monsters (including a dragon); the Arthurian romances, including
Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
(which Tolkien edited in Middle English and also translated) and those by Chrétien de Troyes; the medieval legends of Alexander the Great (who discovered the Trees of the Sun and Moon in the Far East, the inspiration of Tolkien's Two Trees in Valinor); and the Icelandic
and sagas, these are the cornerstones of the medieval genre of heroic romance, with heroic exploits, quests, interlaced stories, and various intrusions of something beyond the natural—that is, elements of fantasy. Tolkien himself followed in this tradition, and
The Lord of the Rings,
as its author rightly noted, is more properly called a heroic romance than a novel.

Tolkien also drew upon folklore and the folktale traditions, as they were recorded in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. After this process of the writing down of oral materials there naturally developed the German
or “literary fairy tales”—that is, fairy tales artistically composed by a single author rather than stories merely recorded from oral tradition. From these folktales and fairy tales came the further development of fairy tales as children's literature and, in addition, of fantasy as a mode of literature for adults.

It is from this latter tradition, beginning with the
that this anthology derives. The stories are arranged in chronological order as to when each item was written. One of the criteria by which I selected stories for this anthology was that each item must have been written before
The Hobbit
was published in 1937. Another guideline that I have followed in a more general sense is that I have wanted each author to be at least slightly older than Tolkien—that is, not one of his contemporaries—so I somewhat arbitrarily restricted myself to writers born at least five years before Tolkien. Some of the stories that I have chosen can be seen specifically to have inspired Tolkien, and these connections are detailed in the headnotes to the appropriate stories. I have also selected some stories whose content seems especially Tolkienian, even though there is little or no evidence that Tolkien knew the writers. And I have also chosen other stories that Tolkien almost certainly did not know in order to show some of the diversity of fantasy as it existed before
The Hobbit.

This anthology begins with what is perhaps the best of the
“The Elves” by Ludwig Tieck. German romantic fairy tales were a great influence on George MacDonald, and it was through MacDonald that the idea of literary fairy tales entered into English literature. In this anthology MacDonald, along with E. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen, Andrew Lang, E. Nesbit, and E. A. Wyke-Smith, represent British children's writers. British adventure fiction is exemplified in the stories of H. Rider Haggard and John Buchan, while the literary side of British fantasy is seen in the selections by Richard Garnett, William Morris, Clemence Housman, Lord Dunsany, William Hope Hodgson, Kenneth Morris, Arthur Machen, and David Lindsay.

Examples of American children's fantasy are found in the stories by Frank R. Stockton and L. Frank Baum. American adventure fantasy is represented by the tales of Francis Stevens and A. Merritt, while the selections by James Branch Cabell and Austin Tappan Wright exemplify more literary American fantasy.

I have kept my headnotes to the stories in this volume brief, intending them to serve more as guiding directions than as critical analyses. Background information on the various authors can be found in the notes at the end of the book, together with recommendations for further reading.


Tolkien's greatness lies in how he brought together the various existing strands of fantasy—heroic romance, folklore, fairy tales, and adult fantasy—and extended the scope of fantasy across the board in a historical as well as novelistic manner. Doing so brought a new depth to the genre, and Tolkien's elaborate history of three Ages of his invented world has raised the bar for his successors. To better appreciate Tolkien's achievement one needs to better understand Tolkien's own roots and the roots of modern fantasy. This anthology merely represents a first step in doing so, while making a number of fine stories, long unavailable, more easily accessible to readers who will enjoy them.

Douglas A. Anderson
November 2002

The Elves

by Ludwig Tieck

Translated by Thomas Carlyle

In his famous essay “On Fairy-stories” Tolkien wrote that “Faerie is a perilous land, and in it are pitfalls for the unwary and dungeons for the overbold.” Ludwig Tieck's story of the young girl Mary and her encounter with the Elves is one of the very best stories of the German
or “literary fairy tales.” Here the otherworldly and perilous nature of Faerie that Tolkien later described is very evident.

“The Elves” was first published in volume 1 (1812) of Tieck's three-volume
. The translation into English by Thomas Carlyle first appeared in
German Romance

Where is our little Mary?” said the father.

“She is playing out upon the green there with our neighbour's boy,” replied the mother.

“I wish they may not run away and lose themselves,” said he; “they are so thoughtless.”

The mother looked for the little ones, and brought them their evening luncheon. “It is warm,” said the boy; “and Mary had a longing for the red cherries.”

“Have a care, children,” said the mother, “and do not run too far from home, and not into the wood; Father and I are going to the fields.”

Little Andres answered: “Never fear, the wood frightens us; we shall sit here by the house, where there are people near us.”

The mother went in, and soon came out again with her husband. They locked the door, and turned towards the fields to look after their labourers, and see their hay-harvest in the meadow. Their house lay upon a little green height, encircled by a pretty ring of paling, which likewise enclosed their fruit and flower garden. The hamlet stretched somewhat deeper down, and on the other side lay the castle of the Count. Martin rented the large farm from this nobleman; and was living in contentment with his wife and only child; for he yearly saved some money, and had the prospect of becoming a man of substance by his industry, for the ground was productive, and the Count not illiberal.

As he walked with his wife to the fields, he gazed cheerfully round and said: “What a different look this quarter has, Brigitta, from the place we lived in formerly! Here it is all so green; the whole village is bedecked with thick-spreading fruit-trees; the ground is full of beautiful herbs and flowers; all the houses are cheerful and cleanly, the inhabitants are at their ease: nay, I could almost fancy that the woods are greener here than elsewhere, and the sky bluer; and, so far as the eye can reach, you have pleasure and delight in beholding the bountiful Earth.”

“And whenever you cross the stream,” said Brigitta, “you are, as it were, in another world, all is so dreary and withered; but every traveller declares that our village is the fairest in the country far and near.”

“All but that fir-ground,” said her husband; “do but look back to it, how dark and dismal that solitary spot is lying in the gay scene: the dingy fir-trees with the smoky huts behind them, the ruined stalls, the brook flowing past with a sluggish melancholy.”

“It is true,” replied Brigitta; “if you but approach that spot, you grow disconsolate and sad, you know not why. What sort of people can they be that live there, and keep themselves so separate from the rest of us, as if they had an evil conscience?”

“A miserable crew,” replied the young Farmer: “gipsies, seemingly, that steal and cheat in other quarters, and have their hoard and hiding-place here. I wonder only that his Lordship suffers them.”

“Who knows,” said the wife, with an accent of pity, “but perhaps they may be poor people, wishing, out of shame, to conceal their poverty; for, after all, no one can say aught ill of them; the only thing is, that they do not go to church, and none knows how they live; for the little garden, which indeed seems altogether waste, cannot possibly support them; and fields they have none.”

“God knows,” said Martin, as they went along, “what trade they follow; no mortal comes to them; for the place they live in is as if bewitched and excommunicated, so that even our wildest fellows will not venture into it.”

Such conversation they pursued, while walking to the fields. That gloomy spot they spoke of lay aside from the hamlet. In a dell, begirt with firs, you might behold a hut, and various ruined office-houses; rarely was smoke seen to mount from it, still more rarely did men appear there; though at times curious people, venturing somewhat nearer, had perceived upon the bench before the hut, some hideous women, in ragged clothes, dandling in their arms some children equally dirty and ill-favoured; black dogs were running up and down upon the boundary; and, of an evening, a man of monstrous size was seen to cross the footbridge of the brook, and disappear in the hut; and, in the darkness, various shapes were observed, moving like shadows round a fire in the open air. This piece of ground, the firs and the ruined huts, formed in truth a strange contrast with the bright green landscape, the white houses of the hamlet, and the stately new-built castle.

The two little ones had now eaten their fruit; it came into their heads to run races; and the little nimble Mary always got the start of the less active Andres. “It is not fair,” cried Andres at last: “let us try it for some length, then we shall see who wins.”

“As thou wilt,” said Mary; “only to the brook we must not run.”

“No,” said Andres; “but there, on the hill, stands the large pear-tree, a quarter of a mile from this. I shall run by the left, round past the fir-ground; thou canst try it by the right over the fields; so we do not meet till we get up, and then we shall see which of us is swifter.”

“Done,” cried Mary, and began to run; “for we shall not mar one another by the way, and my father says it is as far to the hill by that side of the gipsies's house as by this.”

Andres had already started, and Mary, turning to the right, could no longer see him. “It is very silly,” said she to herself: “I have only to take heart, and run along the bridge, past the hut, and through the yard, and I shall certainly be first.” She was already standing by the brook and the clump of firs. “Shall I? No; it is too frightful,” said she. A little white dog was standing on the farther side, and barking with might and main. In her terror, Mary thought the dog some monster, and sprang back. “Fy! fy!” said she: “the dolt is gone half way by this time, while I stand here considering.” The little dog kept barking, and, as she looked at it more narrowly, it seemed no longer frightful, but, on the contrary, quite pretty; it had a red collar round its neck, with a glittering bell; and as it raised its head, and shook itself in barking, the little bell sounded with the finest tinkle. “Well, I must risk it!” cried she, “I will run for life; quick, quick, I am through; certainly to Heaven, they cannot eat me up alive in half a minute!” And with this, the gay, courageous little Mary sprang along the footbridge; passed the dog, which ceased its barking and began to fawn on her; and in a moment she was standing on the other bank, and the black firs all round concealed from view her father's house, and the rest of the landscape.

But what was her astonishment when here! The loveliest, most variegated flower-garden, lay round her; tulips, roses and lilies were glittering in the fairest colours; blue and gold-red butterflies were wavering in the blossoms; cages of shining wire were hung on the espaliers, with many-coloured birds in them, singing beautiful songs; and children, in short white frocks, with flowing yellow hair and brilliant eyes, were frolicking about; some playing with lambkins, some feeding the birds, or gathering flowers, and giving them to one another; some, again, were eating cherries, grapes and ruddy apricots. No hut was to be seen; but instead of it, a large fair house, with a brazen door and lofty statues, stood glancing in the middle of the space. Mary was confounded with surprise, and knew not what to think; but, not being bashful, she went right up to the first of the children, held out her hand, and wished the little creature good-even.

“Art thou come to visit us, then?” said the glittering child; “I saw thee running, playing on the other side, but thou wert frightened at our little dog.”

“So you are not gipsies and rogues,” said Mary, “as Andres always told me? He is a stupid thing, and talks of much he does not understand.”

“Stay with us,” said the strange little girl; “thou wilt like it well.”

“But we are running a race.”

“Thou wilt find thy comrade soon enough. There, take and eat.”

Mary ate, and found the fruit more sweet than any she had ever tasted in her life before; and Andres, and the race, and the prohibition of her parents, were entirely forgotten.

A stately woman, in a shining robe, came towards them, and asked about the stranger child. “Fairest lady,” said Mary, “I came running hither by chance, and now they wish to keep me.”

“Thou art aware, Zerina,” said the lady, “that she can be here but for a little while; besides, thou shouldst have asked my leave.”

“I thought,” said Zerina, “when I saw her admitted across the bridge, that I might do it; we have often seen her running in the fields, and thou thyself hast taken pleasure in her lively temper. She will have to leave us soon enough.”

“No, I will stay here,” said the little stranger; “for here it is so beautiful, and here I shall find the prettiest playthings, and store of berries and cherries to boot. On the other side it is not half so grand.”

The gold-robed lady went away with a smile; and many of the children now came bounding round the happy Mary in their mirth, and twitched her, and incited her to dance; others brought her lambs, or curious playthings; others made music on instruments, and sang to it.

She kept, however, by the playmate who had first met her; for Zerina was the kindest and loveliest of them all. Little Mary cried and cried again: “I will stay with you forever; I will stay with you, and you shall be my sisters”; at which the children all laughed, and embraced her. “Now we shall have a royal sport,” said Zerina. She ran into the palace, and returned with a little golden box, in which lay a quantity of seeds, like glittering dust. She lifted of it with her little hand, and scattered some grains on the green earth. Instantly the grass began to move, as in waves; and, after a few moments, bright rosebushes started from the ground, shot rapidly up, and budded all at once, while the sweetest perfume filled the place. Mary also took a little of the dust, and, having scattered it, she saw white lilies, and the most variegated pinks, pushing up. At a signal from Zerina, the flowers disappeared, and others rose in their room. “Now,” said Zerina, “look for something greater.” She laid two pine-seeds in the ground, and stamped them in sharply with her foot. Two green bushes stood before them. “Grasp me fast,” said she; and Mary threw her arms about the slender form. She felt herself borne upwards; for the trees were springing under them with the greatest speed; the tall pines waved to and fro, and the two children held each other fast embraced, swinging this way and that in the red clouds of the twilight, and kissed each other; while the rest were climbing up and down the trunks with quick dexterity, pushing and teasing one another with loud laughter when they met; if any one fell down in the press, it flew through the air, and sank slowly and surely to the ground. At length Mary was beginning to be frightened; and the other little child sang a few loud tones, and the trees again sank down, and set them on the ground as gradually as they had lifted them before to the clouds.

They next went through the brazen door of the palace. Here many fair women, elderly and young, were sitting in the round hall, partaking of the fairest fruits, and listening to glorious invisible music. In the vaulting of the ceiling, palms, flowers and groves stood painted, among which little figures of children were sporting and winding in every graceful posture; and with the tones of the music, the images altered and glowed with the most burning colours; now the blue and green were sparkling like radiant light, now these tints faded back in paleness, the purple flamed up, and the gold took fire; and then the naked children seemed to be alive among the flower-garlands, and to draw breath, and emit it through their ruby-coloured lips; so that by fits you could see the glance of their little white teeth, and the lighting up of their azure eyes.

From the hall, a stair of brass led down to a subterranean chamber. Here lay much gold and silver, and precious stones of every hue shone out between them. Strange vessels stood along the walls, and all seemed filled with costly things. The gold was worked into many forms, and glittered with the friendliest red. Many little dwarfs were busied sorting the pieces from the heap, and putting them in the vessels; others, hunch-backed and bandy-legged, with long red noses, were tottering slowly along, half-bent to the ground, under full sacks, which they bore as millers do their grain; and, with much panting, shaking out the gold-dust on the ground. Then they darted awkwardly to the right and left, and caught the rolling balls that were like to run away; and it happened now and then that one in his eagerness overset the other, so that both fell heavily and clumsily to the ground. They made angry faces, and looked askance, as Mary laughed at their gestures and their ugliness. Behind them sat an old crumpled little man, whom Zerina reverently greeted; he thanked her with a grave inclination of his head. He held a sceptre in his hand, and wore a crown upon his brow, and all the other dwarfs appeared to regard him as their master, and obey his nod.

“What more wanted?” asked he, with a surly voice, as the children came a little nearer. Mary was afraid, and did not speak; but her companion answered, they were only come to look about them in the chambers. “Still your old child's tricks!” replied the dwarf: “Will there never be an end to idleness?” With this, he turned again to his employment, kept his people weighing and sorting the ingots; some he sent away on errands, some he chid with angry tones.

15.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Other books

Orphan of Mythcorp by R.S. Darling
Seduction Under Fire by Melissa Cutler
Shades of Temptation by Virna DePaul
Secrets to the Grave by Hoag, Tami