Letters #2-4: Edith Bratt

In these early letters to Edith Bratt, Tolkien offers us another look into his world during a critical period. Even as he juggles academic acheivements, military training, and personal challenges, his creative drive shines through. These letters reveal a man deeply engaged in his surroundings, while simultaneously retreating into his imaginative worlds, where his earliest mythologies begin to take shape.

On 27th November 1914, Tolkien writes about a day that was packed with activity. His morning was spent working, followed by military drill exercises in the afternoon, then attending a lecture before dinner. In the evening, he went to a meeting of the Essay Club, where he read his poem Earendel. While the meeting itself seemed to drag on with a "bad paper" being presented, Tolkien notes that the discussion afterward was worthwhile, and his poem received positive criticism. This reference to Earendel is particularly important because it marks one of the earliest glimpses of the mythology that would later develop into The Silmarillion. Earendel is significant in Tolkien's work because the character Eärendil would eventually become a central figure in his legendarium, a mariner whose voyages have cosmic implications in Middle-earth. What is striking here is how, even amid his busy academic and social commitments, Tolkien never stopped writing and developing his imaginative universe. The Essay Club, where intellectual exchange took place, was a place where Tolkien’s ideas could be shared and tested, providing him with feedback that helped him refine his mythological and poetic works.

Tolkien’s days during this period were undoubtedly busy, as he balanced studying, military obligations, and social engagements, but the creative drive he possessed was unrelenting. That drive would continue to manifest in increasingly significant ways as he progressed through life, laying the groundwork for the expansive mythos we know today.

A year later, on 26th November 1915, Tolkien’s circumstances had shifted considerably. Now a member of the Lancashire Fusiliers and stationed at Rugeley Camp in Staffordshire, his letter to Edith paints a vivid picture of the contrast between the cold, harsh conditions of military life and the warmth of his creative work. The freezing environment he describes is rough: soldiers standing around, attempting to stay warm, moving only to keep from freezing, and the shared struggle for warmth by the stove.

Yet, even amidst these grueling conditions, Tolkien’s creative work did not cease. He was working on Kortirion among the Trees, a poem inspired by Warwick, where Edith lived. The poem describes a "fading town upon a little hill" inhabited by the "holy fairies and immortal elves," a vision that would soon become intertwined with the larger world of Middle-earth. Tolkien’s devotion to his friends from the T.C.B.S. (Tea Club and Barrovian Society) is also mentioned here, as he wants to send them a copy of the poem, though he prioritises sending the pencil copy to Edith first. While not a direct precursor to Middle-earth, the poem reveals Tolkien’s early explorations of the themes of nostalgia, the passage of time, and the beauty of nature that would later find fuller expression in his legendarium.

The harsh realities of war are juxtaposed with Tolkien’s literary world in this letter, offering a poignant reminder that even in times of great hardship, his imagination flourished. He found solace in his writing and in his relationship with Edith, which would sustain him through the darker moments of his life.

By 2nd March 1916, Tolkien was still grappling with the mundane realities of military training, but his creative passions remained undimmed. In this letter, written on a drizzling, dreary afternoon, Tolkien describes how he had been reviewing old military lecture notes but quickly grew bored of them. In response to this boredom, he allowed himself to escape into something much more exciting to him—his "nonsense fairy language."

This brief mention of his work on an invented language speaks volumes about Tolkien’s ongoing internal conflict. While he loved creating languages and found joy in the process, he viewed it as a somewhat frivolous or "mad hobby." This hesitancy and self-doubt about the value of his linguistic work may seem surprising, given the central role language plays in his later writings. Nevertheless, Tolkien’s experimentation with language during this period would eventually culminate in the intricate Elvish languages of Quenya and Sindarin, which are central to the cultures and stories of Middle-earth. The letter shows a side of Tolkien that is often overshadowed by his later success—the part of him that struggled with whether his passions were worthy pursuits. Yet, it is precisely this "mad hobby" that became one of the defining aspects of his literary legacy. His constructed languages were not mere linguistic exercises but integral parts of the mythos he was building, imbuing his world with a sense of history and depth that set it apart from other fantasy works.

Taken together, these three letters provide a compelling picture of Tolkien’s life during a period of personal and historical upheaval. As he navigated his way through academia, military service, and the cold reality of war, Tolkien never stopped writing, never stopped creating. Whether working on early poems like Earendel and Kortirion among the Trees, or toying with invented languages that would one day become Elvish, Tolkien’s mind was always active, always searching for ways to escape the mundanity of his circumstances through creativity. These letters also reveal the deep connections Tolkien maintained with the people who were important to him, especially Edith and his friends from the T.C.B.S. While war and distance kept them apart physically, his letters and poems served as a way to bridge that gap, offering glimpses of the world he was creating in his mind.

Through the letters, we see the beginning of Tolkien's grand mythology, the first notes of a symphony that would later become The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion. What might have seemed like small, personal musings at the time were, in fact, the early building blocks of a literary world that would captivate readers for generations.