Tolkien by the numbers

When three is really four minus one.

I talk about the numerical symbolism a lot. I could try and apologize, but I’m not really sorry.

Numbers are really important in astrology; some of them more than the others.

For example, the number one.

The relationship between the number one and the others is not unlike the one between the Sun and the other planets: both are a member of the group, but not just any member.

The Sun is one of the seven, but is is also one of the foundations of astrology. The Zodiac is a belt around the Ecliptic — the path of the Sun in the sky. Each sign is one-twelfth of its anual course; the houses are divisions of the Sky according to the Ascendant (related to where the Sun rises) and the Midheaven (related to the highest point it reaches).

The number one is a number, but, unlike all the others, it does not measure quantity — it represents unity. And everything is unity; to be is to be one; things can only be apprehended either as a unity, or part of a unity.

And all the other numbers derive from it.

Two is one plus one: symbolically, it’s the recognition that there is the thing and everything else which is not the thing. That’s why it is the number of opposition and polarity; day/night, masculine/feminine, etc.

Three (two plus one) is the number of the relation which arises naturally from the fact that things are separate, but not totally unconnected; it represents the ternaries: beginning, middle, end; past, present, future; the vertical triple divisions of the Cosmos in the different traditions (spirit, soul, body; the Chinese Heaven, Earth, Man; Deus, Homo, Natura; Dante’s Hell, Purgatory, Heaven, etc). It’s obviously active, and we see it the sign modes (cardinal, fixed, mutable).

Four is three plus one: the idea that the relations are mutual, that everything is at the same time acting on everything else, and receiving everything else’s action (it is also, after all, two plus two). It is stable, extensive, and associated with the four seasons, the four directions, the four elements.

The other prominent astrological numbers, seven and twelve, are obtained by either adding three and four, or multiplying one by the other: either the concrete actors (the planets) or the possibilities (the signs and the houses).

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I also talk a lot about the Lord of the Rings.

I really, really like this image.

No, Tolkien is not relevant to astrology; but he was a wonderful writer. I know, I know, things with wizards, knights, elfs, orcs are for children; but just grab a book, a child, and read one for the other (to be clear: read the book for the child, it’s hard to do the other way).

The thing is, Tolkien was not really trying to insert numerical (or astrological) symbolism in his text, he just wanted to tell a good fairy tale. And that’s why the symbols seem to work so beautifully.

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But we have a problem, right at the beginning.

We are told that there are several different rings, for different races:

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for mortal men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne;

In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

One ring to rule them all, one ring to find them,

One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them;

In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie.

Seven rings for the Dwarf-lords… OK. They’re the guys who live under mountains and do beautiful things. They extract heavenly objects from the earth. Seven is the concrete, active sum of the three and the four.

Nine for mortal men… the number nine has different possibilities, but the one that seems to be emphasized here is incompleteness. Nine is almost ten (the number six — other multiple of three — has the same meaning in the Bible, as being the number of man; it is seven minus one); it is three multiplied three, action by action — men are the warrior race in the story.

In Paradise Lost, Lucifer and his angels fell for nine days, and lay nine more vanquished; the Titans fell for the same amount of time in the Titanomachy.

The One Ring is made for the Dark Lord that wants to reign supreme. Oneness, the virtue of being one.

The three rings also make sense: the elfs are immortal, they are more complete than men. Under the sky, they are the symbol of what is above it; and they seem less hindered by earthly limitations.

That is, they seem to make sense until we learn that each of them is associated with an element. Vilya is connected to air; Nenya, to water; Narya, to fire.

OK, so… where’s earth?

We need to take a step back and look at the creator and first owner of the One Ring.

Sauron would love everyone to believe he is unique, but that’s far from the truth. A lower-ranked Ainur (a Maia), he was the servant of a higher-ranked Ainur (a Valar), Melkor (later renamed Morgoth).

Morgoth was the first bad guy; Sauron was his henchman.

He’s not the rightful lord of everything; he is not even the first to rebel against God (called Eru Ilúvatar in the books).

And what is the fundamental flaw of both Melkor and Sauron?

Their fascination for ruling Middle Earth. Instead of looking up to God, they look down to Middle Earth (as Mammon in Paradise lost, who was “the least erected Spirit that fell from heav’n, for ev’n in heav’n his looks and thoughts were always downward bent”).

And the One Ring is made for the purpose of helping Sauron rule Middle Earth.

Here it is: the earth ring. The Elven rings are not three, but four minus one.

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I don’t mean to say the element earth is in any way bad.

The four main races in the Lord of the Rings could be ascribed to one of the four elements (elfs, air; man, fire; hobbits, water; dwarves, earth), and there is nothing inherently bad with dwarves (or, as Tolkien would prefer, dwarfs).

But everything in the world can be good or bad. Fire lights up and warms, but may burn and destroy. And earth might be represented by Gimli… or Sauron.