Despite often considered in public consciousness one of the more archetypal paracosms, Middle-earth remains in actuality more true to its name than merely imaginary. Tolkien’s Legendarium, rather than being a wholly alternate world in the style of Martin’s Westeros or Cameron’s Pandora, occupies a role closer to historical fiction (albeit with vast liberties) a la Eaters of the Dead. Undoubtedly fantasy, yes, and hardly plausible given a scientific view of the world, yet still ostensibly set within it. Just as Ibn Fadlan likely never saw neanderthals on his travels, nor did grey angels with a peculiar resemblance to Magneto have much credibility of resurrecting white. Ibn Fadlan did however exist, and so too did Middle-earth in this manner.
Tolkien himself says rather simply to Rhona Beare in letter 211:
“I have, I suppose, constructed an imaginary time, but kept my feet on my own mother-earth for place.”
He goes on in that same letter to ridicule the notion that it is in fact wholly otherworldly:
“Many reviewers seem to assume that Middle-earth is another planet!”
In the interlude, he draws up an etymological relationship between his own constructed term and the Old English middan-geard, itself derived from Old Norse.
He gives little information about the length of time specifically between the era of history (or rather prehistory as per his insistence) and that of the reader. What information he gives is a vibe-based ‘floor,’ so to speak, such that any possible length of time disqualifies familiarity between such times were there to be a time-travel mechanism as in The Notion Club Papers. Though in a vacuum a paracosm, supplementary writings and appendices establish that the vacuum is a misconception. This is not meant to be a mere novel, its story having never happened, nor is it so tangential so as to have no effect on the world that is our own as in works such as Star Wars (the locale being a galaxy far away in an older time).
This lends itself to some rather bemusing speculation in regards to the relationship between similar cultures residing each in Middle-earth and its future counterpart. Other works hold real-to-fictional cultural similarities either out of personal taste or to provide a counterpart. Warhammer’s Empire of Man is the equivalent of the Holy Roman Empire, but merely so the neurodivergent can recognize their tiny plastic men. One is not meant to draw connections save to fill in gaps of cultural information. This is not so for Tolkien’s Legendarium, as it frames itself as an earnest remnant of a primordial time, the interlude lost yet continuous.
Numenor’s grand monuments, for example, are not meant to be consumed as some intentional sorting of the civilization as the equivalent of Ancient Egypt. It instead is something that existed among such ancient civilizations, the greatest of many. Perhaps even a progenitor. It is not the Aztec Empire of Middle-earth, nor are its kings meant to represent pharaohs. Instead it offers an explanation for their pyramids and statues, of their colossal ossuaries and tombs. Numenor becomes more akin to a History Channel extraterrestrial race, supernatural and from a more fantastical time. The difference lies mostly in the specifics of such allegations. The Legendarium is no less history than Ancient Aliens, though perhaps recounted more earnestly.
Yet despite the alleged continuity between Middle-earth and modern Earth, they exist as worlds beholden to vastly different rules. It would not be remiss to turn to the Bible to figure out why. The Old Testament features a far more active God, directly smiting sin and presenting Himself to various prophets. When one turns to the New Testament, God mostly assigns Himself/His Son to mortal coils by which He interacts with the world. Simply put, there is far more magic in the Old Testament than the New. As far as the present day? There is little magic to be found anywhere, no God walking amongst us and as one of us, no cities bursting, no one spontaneously turned to salt for gazing upon such destruction.
Tolkien follows this trajectory in his extension of the world’s history. As the New Testament had more magic in it than now, so too must Middle-earth (being set by my estimate sometime between the primeval and ancestral history in the Book of Genesis). Middle-earth is not some new world conjured up by Tolkien, magic shoehorned in for the sake of plot and tone. It is this world when it was new, when God acted more through His own interventions. Specifically, in a place and time where God was known as Eru Iluvatar. The birth of Jesus Christ is also accounted for in Tolkien’s Legendarium, marking the transition from the Sixth Age to the Seventh according to some writings. Consistency is found not only within the Legendarium itself, but also between itself and reality (often warped by epochs).
In a sense, Tolkien’s distaste for allegory finds kinship with the impossibility of allegory within his writing. Any allegory would not be as such, per se, but would instead be prophecy due to the nature of Middle-earth’s past existence. Middle-earth is not merely a name, but an accurate descriptor of what it is. The people of today walk on its soil, not on its real-life equivalent. Gondor is not the Rome of Middle-earth, but a preceding civilization, perhaps even the literal progenitors of the men who would become Rome’s first kings. The Legendarium is itself a legendarium, not mere literature.
-RLC
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