Tolkien’s landscapes

I’ve been rereading The Lord of the Rings at bedtime recently, and have been noticing how well-written and carefully drawn Tolkien’s landscapes are. You can easily overlook them while you are following the action, but they supply a completely convincing environment that makes it easier to suspend your disbelief about the elves and dwarves and orcs and hobbits who are moving through it.

Here is just one of many examples, from the second to last chapter of The Fellowship of the Ring. Frodo and his companions have reluctantly left the forest of Lorien and its powerful and seductive queen, and are traveling down the river Anduin, not yet sure whether to strike toward the east or to head toward the tower of Minas Tirith in Gondor.

The weather was still grey and overcast, with wind from the East, but as evening drew into night the sky away westward cleared, and pools of faint light, yellow and pale green, opened under the grey shores of cloud. There the white rind of the new Moon could be seen glimmering in the remote lakes. Sam looked at it and puckered his brows.

The next day the country on either side began to change rapidly. The banks began to rise and grow stony. Soon they were passing through a hilly rocky land, and on both shores there were steep slopes buried in deep brakes of thorn and sloe, tangled with brambles and creepers. Behind them stood low crumbling cliffs, and chimneys of grey weathered stone dark with ivy; and beyond these again there rose high ridges crowned with wind-writhen firs. They were drawing near to the grey hill-country of the Emyn Muil, the southern march of Wilderland.