Zu meiner Sammelleidenschaft gehört unter anderem auch das Zusammentragen von Zitaten und Anspielungen auf J.R.R. Tolkien, sein Werk und dessen Adaptionen in anderen fiktionalen Werken. Früher konnte ich das im Forum der Deutschen Tolkien Gesellschaft voll ausleben. Leider wurde das geschlossen, also übertrage ich nach und nach meine gesammelten Schätze auf diese Seite. Ich wollte ja schon immer mal einen Artikel über Intertextualität schreiben …
‚But Constable Grant here is actually paid to believe in this stuff. He also has to believe in faeries, wizards and hobgoblins.‘
‚And hobbitses,‘ I said.
Moon over Soho. London: Gollancz, 2011. S. 241
It all fits – apart from the fact that he’s not a dwarf, nor does he appear to be a king, and they make dinner plates, not swords or rings of power.
Whispers Underground. London: Gollancz, 2012. S. 372f
[T]here’s modern stuff I like. The Gherkin, the Lloyd’s building, even the Shard – despite the nagging feeling I get that Nazgûl should be roosting at the top.
The Hanging Tree. London: Gollancz, 2016. S. 6
And I thought of the person who had written, in Elvish script, the words If You Can Read This You Are Not Only A Nerd But Probably Dead across the face of a Demon Trap.
The Hanging Tree. London: Gollancz, 2016. S. 218
Her eyes were light brown, but even before I got close enough to see the flecks of hazel-gold around the iris I had her pegged as being fayer than the client list of a New Zealand casting agency.
The Hanging Tree. London: Gollancz, 2016. S. 250
[We found] Caroline inside playing Shadow of Mordor on my PS4.
The Hanging Tree. London: Gollancz, 2016. S. 272
A couple of Edwardian earthwork suveys, The Old Straight Track by Alfred Watkins and The Real Middle Earth: Magic and Mystery in the Dark Ages, which confirmed that Martin Chorley was an enormous Tolkien nerd. As if the five or six different editions of The Lord of the Rings and the signed first edition of The Hobbit wasn’t proof enough.
The Hanging Tree. London: Gollancz, 2016. S. 299
Back in 1929 a pair of likely lads made the first of many attempts to drag the English out of their cosy brick hobbit holes and ascend into the future borne aloft on gleaming cubes of white rendered concrete.
The Furthest Station. London: Gollancz, 2017. S. 35
[W]e found no convenient holes in the chain-link fence that lined the side with the tracks, no abandoned bags or other signs of a struggle. Not even a dropped brooch or packet of lembas.
The Furthest Station. London: Gollancz, 2017. S. 86
[He] had not shut up about his kitchen, which as far as I could tell, had been designed by the same people who’d decorated Bag-End.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 9
I’d just recognised the shape of the tattoo. A long upright strokes with two righthand strokes going diagonally up.
‚G for Gandalf,‘ I said.
Specifially G in Tolkien’s imaginary Dwarvish runes or actually, as I learned from a bit of googling, his imaginary early Elvish. I explained this to the doctors, which at least had the effect of wiping that sinister smile off their faces.
‚And I suppose you’re fluent in Elvish?‘ said Dr Vaughan, by way of retaliation.
‚No,‘ I said. ‚But G is what Gandalf stamps on his fireworks. Gandalf is the wizard, by the way.‘
‚I know who Gandalf is, thank you,‘ said Dr Vaughan.
[… He] really did have a sick sense of humour. He’d once labelled a demon trap in Elvish script.
‚And the rest of the tattoos?‘ asked Dr Vaughan.
‚It’s all Dwarvish iconography,‘ I said. ‚From the films, though, not the books.‘
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 64f
‚Let’s not meddle too far in the affairs of wizards.‘
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 116
I suppose it could have been worse – I could have been head down in a barrel.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 283
[…] I grabbed the book. […] A 1977 first edition of Tolkien’s The Silmarillion. And it might have been worth something if it still had its dust jacket, and hadn’t been covered with finger marks and coffee rings and had its page corners turned down to mark the reader’s position.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 295
Since I was stuck there I’d decided to see if I could get all the way through ‚The Music of the Ainur‘, the first bit ofThe Silmarillion and something I’ve never managed to do before. Tolkien and my dad had weirdly convergent ideas about the musical nature of the universe, although my dad would probably have been more forgiving of Melkor’s improvisation. You know, providing it didn’t step on his solo.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 296f
[…] I sat down and picked up The Silmarillion again.
I lasted about an hour before the naming of the Valar drove me to exercise.
[…] I […] got ‚May It Be‘ by Enya stuck on an endless loop in my head.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 303
[…] leaving me alone with Thingol the terminally lost and the rest of the slightly dim-witted Elves of the years before the First Age.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 304f
That afternoon, as I came togrips with the twin burdens of cold falafel for lunch and Fëanor’s staggering denseness re: Morgoth’s intentions, […].
I […] pretended to read The Silmarillion.
[…] I sighed and went back to my book, in which Morgoth nicked the eponymous jewels and had away with them back to Angband. Sorry mate, I thought, not my jurisdiction. Did you have them insured? Whereupon Fëanor gets a crime number and a leaflet upon being on guard against theft and the wiles of the personification of evil.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 307f
‚[…] I’m finding Thingol a bit of a prat to be honest.‘
‚Who’s Thingol when he’s at home?‘
‚Guy in a book,‘ I said.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 311
All I needed was something separate and robust enough that I could use to pin the top of the rope to the brickwork. I picked up my copy of The Silmarillion – that would do nicely.
[…] I threw my copy of The Silmarillion upwards and used impello to guide it and scindere to stick it upright on the edge of the rock.
[…] I got the noose around The Silmarillion on the third try and put my whole weight on it as a test.
[…] I head a slithering sound from the entrance followed by a thump as my copy of The Silmarillion hit the landing mat.
[…] before I could recover my makeshift rope and copy of The Silmarillion, Floxglove jumped down, grabbed me around the waist and jumped out again.
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 324ff
One Does Not Simply Walk Into The Folly
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 328
I ended up in the atrium trying to finish the copy of The Silmarillion I’d downloaded onto my phone.
Lies tSleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 368
The Sacrifice of Gaius C. Pulcinella Considered as a Deleted Scene From The Lord of the Rings
Lies Sleeping. London: Gollancz, 2018. S. 385
They imagined themselves as Thor-like figures, straight out of Tolkien.
Stark. London: Black Swan, 2006. S. 293
„Your friend is evil,“ Hootan said. „Say it. She is evil and deserved to die.“
„Yes, she did evil,“ the boy said. „But she isn’t – she’s not Sauron. She just made a bad decision.“
Afterparty. London: Titan, 2014. S. 60
„You said you were never going back there. You said it was your own private Mordor.“
Afterparty. London: Titan, 2014. S. 127
‚Give this to Norma Wilmer once Smaug spreads his wings and flies away.‘
End of Watch. London: Hodder & Stoughton, 2017. S. 125
Better Call Saul
„All you care about is your share of the payout. It’s like talking to Gollum. You’re transparent. And pathetic.“
S3 E9 (2015): „Fall“ – ab ca. 20:30