Stories by English Writers: John Tolkien
Джон Рональд Руэл Толкин, John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (1892-1973)
Английский писатель и поэт, переводчик, лингвист, филолог, профессор Оксфордского университета. Наиболее известен как автор классических произведений «высокого фэнтези»: «Хоббит, или Туда и обратно», «Властелин колец» и «Сильмариллион».
Джон Рональд Руэл Толкин родился 3 января 1892 года в Блумфонтейне, Оранжевое Свободное государство (теперь ЮАР). После смерти отца семья переезжает в Великобританию, воспитанием детей занимается мать. Именно она научила сына основам латинского языка, а также привила любовь к ботанике: Толкин с ранних лет любил рисовать пейзажи и деревья. К четырём годам, благодаря стараниям матери, мальчик уже умел читать и даже писал первые буквы.
В 1900 году Толкин поступает в Школу короля Эдуарда, где он выучил древнеанглийский язык и начал изучать другие — валлийский, древненорвежский, финский, готский. У него рано обнаружился лингвистический талант, после изучения староваллийского и финского языков он начал разрабатывать «эльфийские» языки (за всю жизнь Толкин выучил 14 языков и придумал 19).
В 1915 году Толкин с отличием окончил университет, вскоре был призван на фронт и участвовал в Первой мировой войне. Толкин пережил кровавую битву на Сомме, где погибло двое его лучших друзей, после чего возненавидел войны. Последующие годы он посвятил научной карьере: сначала преподавал в Университете Лидса, в 1922 году получил должность профессора англосаксонского языка и литературы в Оксфордском университете, где стал одним из самых молодых профессоров (в 30 лет) и скоро заработал репутацию одного из лучших филологов в мире.
Именно в Оксфорде, во время проверки студенческих работ, он внезапно написал короткое предложение о «хоббите».
Всё, что я помню насчёт того, откуда пошёл «Хоббит», — я сидел, проверяя школьные экзаменационные работы, во власти непреходящей усталости от этого ежегодного труда, каковой ложится на плечи безденежных многодетных преподавателей. На чистом листке я нацарапал: «В земляной норе жил себе хоббит». Почему — я сам не знал; не знаю и сейчас. Долгое время я ничего по этому поводу не предпринимал…
В семье Толкина было четверо детей, именно для них он впервые сочинил, рассказал, а потом записал «Хоббита» (The Hobbit, or There and Back Again). В основе сюжета — путешествие хоббита Бильбо Бэггинса, волшебника Гэндальфа и тринадцати гномов во главе с Торином Дубощитом. Их путь лежит к Одинокой Горе, где находятся гномьи сокровища, захваченные и охраняемые драконом Смаугом.
На протяжении почти десяти лет Толкин создавал произведение, которое считается его шедевром – серию книг «Властелин Колец» (The Lord of the Rings). «Властелин колец» был написан как единая книга, но из-за объёма при первом издании его разделили на три части — «Братство Кольца» (The Fellowship of the Ring), «Две крепости» (The Two Towers) и «Возвращение короля» (The Return of the King).
Властелин колец» имел ошеломляющий коммерческий успех, книга стала мировым бестселлером, а фанаты стали создавать клубы Толкина для изучения его вымышленного языка. Сам автор признавал, что успех ему льстит, но со временем устал от популярности.
Произведения Толкина оказали огромное влияние на мировую культуру XX и даже XXI века. Они были неоднократно адаптированы для кино, мультипликации, аудиопьес, театральной сцены, компьютерных игр. По ним созданы концептуальные альбомы, иллюстрации, комиксы. В литературе было создано большое количество подражаний книгам Толкина, их продолжений или антитез. В 2019 году вышел полнометражный биографический фильм «Толкин».
The Hobbit.
Chapter I: An Unexpected Party
By some curious chance one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, and the hobbits were still numerous and prosperous, and Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to his woolly toes (neatly brushed) – Gandalf came by. Gandalf! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort I of remarkable tale. Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion. He had not been down that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like. He had been away over The Hill and across The Water on business of his own since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls.
All that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots. “Good morning!” said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. “What do you mean?” be said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is morning to be good on?”
“All of them at once,” said Bilbo. “And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine! There’s no hurry, we have all the day before us!” Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill.
“Very pretty!” said Gandalf. “But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.”
I should think so – in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them, said our Mr. Baggins, and stuck one thumb behind his braces, and blew out another even bigger smoke-ring. Then he took out his morning letters, and begin to read, pretending to take no more notice of the old man. He had decided that he was not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. But the old man did not move. He stood leaning on his stick and gazing at the hobbit without saying anything, till Bilbo got quite uncomfortable and even a little cross.
“Good morning!” he said at last. “We don’t want any adventures here, thank you! You might try over The Hill or across The Water.” By this he meant that the conversation was at an end.
“What a lot of things you do use Good morning for!” said Gandalf. “Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won’t be good till I move off.”
“Not at all, not at all, my dear sir! Let me see, I don’t think I know your name?”
“Yes, yes, my dear sir – and I do know your name, Mr. Bilbo Baggins. And you do know my name, though you don’t remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me! To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took’s son, as if I was selling buttons at the door!” “Gandalf, Gandalf! Good gracious me! Not the wandering wizard that gave Old Took a pair of magic diamond studs that fastened themselves and never came undone till ordered? Not the fellow who used to tell such wonderful tales at parties, about dragons and goblins and giants and the rescue of princesses and the unexpected luck of widows’ sons? Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer’s Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!” You will notice already that Mr. Baggins was not quite so prosy as he liked to believe, also that he was very fond of flowers. “Dear me!” she went on. “Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures. Anything from climbing trees to visiting Elves – or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter – I mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still in business.” “Where else should I be?” said the wizard. “All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate, land that is not without hope. Indeed for your old grand-father Took’s sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for.”
“I beg your pardon, I haven’t asked for anything!”
“Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will go so far as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it.”
“Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good morning!
But please come to tea – any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Come tomorrow!
Good-bye!”
With that the hobbit turned and scuttled inside his round green door, and shut it as quickly as he dared, not to seen rude. Wizards after all are wizards.