Tolkien and Mitchison: Hobbits and Hobyahs… a book and two special dedications

 

Tolkien and Mitchison: Hobbits and Hobyahs… 

a book and two special dedications

Oronzo Cilli 

 

What I would like to share with you is a piece of research that began almost by chance. It often happens that, while I am walking the main road of an investigation, my gaze is suddenly drawn to a narrower, shadowy path — seemingly marginal, little trodden by other fellow travellers. And so, compelled by a silent call, I choose to venture along that hidden track, only to leave it once my curiosity feels fully satisfied. This is precisely what occurred when I stumbled upon the word hobyah, which I immediately linked to hobbit, owing to the shared prefix hob- that evokes the whole family of British mythical beings known as hob, hobgoblin, hob-thrush, and other mischievous spirits or sprites. In the second volume of the folklore collection reprinted from Denham’s original tracts and pamphlets issued between 1846 and 1859, the Denham Tracts, we find a reference to “hobbits, hobgoblins” (Denham 79).

But what exactly are — or rather, who are — the Hobyahs? The name belongs to malevolent supernatural beings from a Scottish/English folk tale of uncertain date.

Of course, apart from the similarity of the name, the Hobyahs have nothing whatsoever to do with Tolkien’s Hobbits. Yet I find it intriguing to bring to your attention some discoveries of mine involving Naomi Mitchison — the celebrated writer and friend of Tolkien — and one of her books, published in 1928. The very same period when Tolkien began telling his children the tale that would later become the story of Bilbo Baggins.

 

But, as always, let us proceed in order.

How many versions of the story of the Hobyahs?

The first known version of the story was published in the April–June issue of The Journal of American Folklore in 1891 by Samuel Victor Proudfit (1846–1934), who introduces the tale by writing:

THE Hobyahs: a Scotch Nursery Tale.—When a child, I used to hear the following story told in a Scotch family that came from the vicinity of Perth. Whether the story came with the family I am unable to say. I have spelled the word “Hobyah” as it was pronounced.

The effectiveness of the story lies in a certain sepulchral monotone in rendering the cry of the Hobyah, and his terrible “look me.”

In Proudfit’s story, the Hobyahs are small and fierce nocturnal beings, akin to goblins or hobgoblins, who come crying out that they will tear down the house, devour the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl who lives with them. For several nights Turpie, the old man’s dog, manages to drive them away by barking, but the man, annoyed by the noise, first cuts off his tail, then his legs, and finally his head. Thus, left defenceless, the Hobyahs destroy the house, devour the man and woman, and carry the girl away in a sack. While they sleep during the day, another man hears the child’s cries, frees her, and puts his own big dog in her place. When the Hobyahs open the sack, the dog devours them all. 

The same version of Proudfit’s story was later included, three years afterwards, in Joseph Jacobs’s collection More English Fairy Tales (1894). But, as I was saying, during my research I have recorded seven other different versions, which I list and number here (this will help to simplify the differences), together with that of Proudfit/Jacobs:

1. S. V. Proudfit / Joseph Jacobs, 1891/1894
2. Clifton Johnson, 1905 (version 1)
3. Clifton Johnson, 1905 (version 2)
4. Carolyn Sherwin Bailey, 1907
5. Walter Lowrie Hervey, 1909
6. Georgene Faulkner, 1911
7. James Hiran Fassett, 1912
8. Kate Forrest Oswell, 1912 

I will try to point out the various differences in the story of versions 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 as compared to the original version 1.

The subsequent versions, 2–8, offer significant variations on the plot, particularly with regard to the treatment of Turpie and his role in the final rescue. In versions 2, 3, 5 and 6, instead of mutilating Turpie, the old man repeatedly tries to sell him or gives him away. In 2 and 3, instead of cutting off body parts, the old man tries to sell Turpie every morning, lowering the price (from four to one shilling). No one buys him, and Turpie returns home every night.

In 3, further details are added about the reasons why no one buys Turpie: some people do not want a dog; some have no money; one man wants a dog and has the money but refuses to buy him when he finds out that the old man wanted to sell him because he barked too much. Eventually, the old man decides to give Turpie away, and succeeds, but without the dog the Hobyahs are able to carry off the little girl and eat the old man and the old woman. Moreover, the Hobyahs live among the rocks in the forest and sleep during the day.

In version 4, the Hobyahs’ approach is described in more detail: “creep, creep, through the woods came the Hobyahs, skipping along on the tips of their toes.” The old man cuts off Turpie’s tail “to cure him of barking,” then his legs, and finally his head. When the Hobyahs attack, they take only the little old woman, while the little old man hides under the bed. An important addition appears: the old man reassembles Turpie’s tail, legs and head after repenting. It is Turpie himself who goes to find the little old woman, and after cutting open the sack with his sharp teeth he hides inside. When the Hobyahs return, Turpie jumps out of the sack and devours them all.

In 5, the house is made of corn stalks instead of hemp stalks. Again, the old man tries to sell Turpie (for two dollars, then one dollar), but fails at first because of his night barking, though eventually he gives him to a beggar who treats him kindly. The little girl is taken to a cave instead of a sack, and the Hobyahs knock at the cave saying “Look me! Look me!” It is the beggar and Turpie who find the girl, with Turpie barking after following the Hobyahs’ tracks. The girl repeats the Hobyahs’ phrase, “Look me! Look me!” It is the beggar who puts Turpie in the cave, from which he leaps out and kills all the Hobyahs. The story ends happily, with the old man, the woman, the little girl, the beggar and Turpie living happily together and rebuilding the house.

In 6, by contrast, the Hobyahs are described as dreadful creatures living in a cave on the mountain. The old man tries to sell Turpie for three, then two, then one shilling, before giving him away, while the little girl is tied up in a large sack and carried off. The Hobyahs fear daylight and come out only at night to do harm.

In 7, Turpie is a “little black dog.” The descriptions of the Hobyahs’ arrival are highly repetitive and poetic: “Out from the deep woods, run, run, running,” “Through the long grass, creep, creep, creeping,” “Skip, skip, skipping on the ends of their toes.” The old man cuts off Turpie’s parts “to stop him from barking.”

Finally, in 8, the dog is called Purkie instead of Turpie, the house is made of “cornstalks,” and the old man cuts off Purkie’s parts “to cure him of barking.” The Hobyahs, when touching the sack, say “Oh! little old woman!” instead of the usual “Look me! Look me!” and, as in 4 and 7, the old man reassembles Purkie, who then carries out the rescue and devours the Hobyahs. This version is labelled an “Oriental Tale.”

Whereas the original Proudfit/Jacobs story presents a more raw and direct version of Turpie’s mutilation followed by his inability to defend the family, the other versions divide into two main strands: 2, 3, 5 and 6 feature the old man trying to sell or give away Turpie, leading to his absence. In these versions, a great external dog (or the original Turpie reinstated, as in version 5) is responsible for the final rescue. Versions 4, 7 and 8 retain the theme of mutilation but introduce an element of the old man’s repentance in reassembling Turpie. In these versions, it is Turpie himself (or Purkie), restored, who saves the day and defeats the Hobyahs.

What does Naomi Mitchison have to do with the Hobyahs?

In 1928 the London publisher Jonathan Cape brought out Naomi Mitchison’s book Nix-Nought-Nothing. Four Plays for Children. The purpose of the book is explained by Mitchison herself in her Foreword:

THREE of these plays are meant to be acted in any large room in any house: the other in a field or garden in Scotland or wherever there are Scots. All the indoor ones should be as simple as possible; in each of them only one plain-coloured curtain or hanging at the back is needed, with the least possible indication of change of scene. I have given some idea of how this may be clone, also of dresses and properties, but obviously most can be left to the individual producer or nursery. In the third and fourth plays, it is fairly clear that, in several! places, the actors can say what they please, keeping the plays up to date according to their own ideas. It will probably be found better not to have any players—certainly not more than one!—less than three years old. The stories of the plays are all more or less traditional, and are mostly based on Joseph Jacobs’ books of Fairy Tales, which I had read aloud to me twenty years ago, have been reading aloud myself far the last five, and which I used to read to myself in the interval.

The four Plays, with their respective themes, are:

My Ain Sel’: “The Boy” encounters the “Fairy Folk”. The boy’s mother expresses caution towards these creatures, noting that “they never like to be seen”. “The Boy” interacts with a “Fairy Girl”, described as wearing a “brown pointed cap” and associated with singing and dancing. The Fairy Girl demonstrates the ability to make things discreetly vanish and possesses a “magic ring”.

Nix-Nought-Nothing: The protagonist is Nix-Nought-Nothing, a lost prince, whose story revolves around “The Wizard”. This Wizard, a “wandering king” of “great renown”, is characterised by a “black magic hat” and a “large, shining ring on his middle finger”. The Wizard owns a “magic wand” and is capable of casting spells, including transforming people into objects or summoning creatures. The scenes take place in a desert, in the Wizard’s house, and in a forest, with mention of “dragons”. The Wizard commands to “empty the lake!”, and Mary, his daughter, is involved in helping the prince.

Hobyah! Hobyah!: Mitchison introduces the Hobyahs, grotesque and malevolent creatures, and “The Old Witch” with her husband, “The Ogre”. The Ogre is described as one who “eats manflesh”. The plot follows Princess Petronilla and the peasant Jack, as they attempt to escape from and fight these beings. The Hobyahs are depicted with “black heads, bodies and tails, white arms, legs and faces, and large mouths”. There is reference to “three wishes” and to “keys” linked to a treasure. The main setting is a forest, and the Hobyahs are notorious for “eating the old man and woman and carrying off the little girl”.

Elfen Hill: It is partly set on an “Elfen Hill”, described as a “great cavern”. The main characters include “The Elf King”, Queen Miranda, and the Nixie, a water spirit associated with a “Rushy Brook”. The Elf King is known for posing riddles. “Golden crowns” and “silver wands” are mentioned. The story explores the world of the Elves, their songs and nature, with allusions to trials and secrets connected with riddles and magical places.

As the author herself emphasised, “the stories of the plays are all more or less traditional, and are mostly based on Joseph Jacobs’ books of Fairy Tales”, a theatrical reworking of traditional tales.

But what unites and, above all, differentiates the story of the Hobyahs from the traditional version proposed by Jacobs?

Both stories differ significantly in form, characters, and narrative developments.

Common aspects: the presence of the Hobyahs; the threat uttered by the evil beings – “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hemp-stalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” – appears in almost identical fashion in both versions; the Turpie (or Turpy) dog plays a crucial role in initially protecting the household by barking at the Hobyahs; Turpie’s mutilation (losing his tail, then his legs, and finally his head) due to his barking, which disturbs the sleep or tranquillity of the main characters; the abduction of the “little girl”, carried away in a sack by the Hobyahs once Turpie is no longer able to defend her; the rescue of the child through her substitution in the Hobyahs’ sack with something else.

Differences: Jacobs’ text is a traditional fairy tale, presented as a linear narrative, while Mitchison’s version is a play or script, with character lists, scenes, and dialogue. In Jacobs, the characters are an old man, an old woman, and an anonymous little girl, who live in a house made of hemp-stalks; in Mitchison, the “little girl” is “Princess Petronilla”, part of the royal court, and the story introduces other characters such as “The King”, “The Prime Minister”, “The Old Witch” (Grauss), and “The Ogre”, her husband. The hemp-stalk house is a specific setting for one of the scenes. In the fairy tale, Turpie is the old man’s dog, whose tail, legs, and eventually head are cut off by his master because his barking prevents him from sleeping; in the play, Turpy is linked to the King’s court and Princess Petronilla, and he is mutilated by the Ogre under the Witch’s influence, as part of a punishment inflicted on Princess Petronilla for failing to keep the dog quiet. Moreover, in Jacobs the little girl is saved by a man with a large dog, who then devours all the Hobyahs, bringing about their total extermination, whereas in Mitchison, Princess Petronilla is saved by Jack, a peasant, while the Hobyahs are not killed but rather flee, even going so far as to grant Jack three wishes. The conclusions also diverge: Jacobs’ 1894 tale ends more definitively and grimly for the Hobyahs, with their complete destruction, while the 1928 play ends more complexly and in a more fairy-tale fashion, with Princess Petronilla’s return to the palace, the possibility of a royal marriage between Petronilla and Jack, and the Hobyahs, though defeated, not annihilated, while Turpy is still mentioned in the final scene. One final detail: Jacobs only mentions that the Hobyahs slept during the day, whereas Mitchison provides a fuller description – “black heads, bodies and tails, white arms, legs and faces, and large mouths” – and even gives them a King.

Nix-Nought-Nothing: Naomi Mitchison and two special dedications

Before speaking of Tolkien, I would like to add a small detail which, at least for me personally, makes the story of the publication of Mitchison’s book even more intriguing and moving.

The book, as you can easily verify, is not easy to find on the market, nor is its second edition of 1948, also published by Jonathan Cape, which however includes only two of the four plays from the first edition: Nix-Nought-Nothing and Elfen Hill. Both volumes carry the same dedication.

Naomi and Gilbert Richard 'Dick' Mitchison had seven children; Geoffrey (1918–1927), Denis (1919–2018), Murdoch (1922–2011), Lois (born 1926), Valentine (born 1928) Avrion (1928–2022) and Clemency (1940) who died shortly after birth.

The very special dedication is to Geoffrey, “Geoff”, her nine-year-old son, whom she lost in 1927, the year before the book was published, due to spinal meningitis.

The Greek phrase that closes the dedication, “ἀπορίομες τί χρὴ δρᾶν” (“We do not know what to do” or “We are at a loss as to what to do”), conveys the full weight of the anguish Naomi Mitchison was experiencing at that time.

It was a bereavement that caused Naomi great pain, and she reproached herse

lf for what had so tragically happened to her son – blaming her frequent absences from home, her neglect, and her failure to be as present for him as she could and should have been.

In 1927 her oldest child, 9-year-old Geoff, died of spinal meningitis. His death touched Naomi’s guilt as a mother, although there was, in truth, little she could have done to keep him alive. Penicillin had not yet been discovered. There is no way around the pain: spinal meningitis is both a horrible way to die and a horrible nightmare for a mother whose child is dying of its ravages. Naomi’s. [Benton 53]

Mitchison herself recalled in her autobiography that:

In 1927, when he was nine, our eldest son Geoff died of meningitis in a London nursing home. There is some description of what it was like in Point Counter Point. I do not now blame Aldous for writing about it; no doubt in the state I was in I clung on to any friends to tell them, tell them, force them to share. One recovers in a sense but never completely. One can look back beyond but never without pain, never without some shadow of possible guilt. The sum of pain in the world has been increased by that fraction; it does not balance with anything. It was very difficult for the other children to accept and bad for them; we all got over it, as they say, but somewhat maimed. And Geoff was and is dead. Before that there had been, for me at least, a kind of security and comfort of mind, taken for granted. Life would have its ups and downs but the war was over and things were getting better everywhere—or so it appeared. We had more friends, more fun, we were out of danger. Progress would go on steadily. But progress had not got to the stage of antibiotics, and the specialists brought desperately in could do nothing. With antibiotics Geoff might have been alive today, thinking, presumably about his retirement plans after a life of—what? I still wince away, inevitably blaming myself, thinking if I had taken more trouble at the beginning when he first got ear-ache. If only. If only. There is no answer. [Mitchison 1979, 30]

In her memoirs, Mitchison refers to her friend Aldous Huxley and to his book Point Counter Point, published in 1928, in which the illness and death from meningitis of little Phil, the child of two protagonists, Philip Quarles — a writer (a self-portrait of Huxley) — and his wife Elinor, are recounted. That “there is some description of what it was like in Point Counter Point” was narrated by Huxley in this way:

There was a knock at the door. It was the housemaid with a message from Nurse Butler: would they please come up at once. The convulsions had been very violent; the wasted body was without strength. By the time they reached the nursery, little Phil was dead. [Auxley 1928, 419]

Huxley himself, on 23 August 1927, had written to his friend Naomi, trying to relieve the grief she was suffering after the loss of her son.

My dear Naomi, I have been hesitating to write for some time; for after all there is no consolation and the best-meant letters are intrusions. And where a child is concerned the horror is so specially unescapable and inexplicable. Child suffering brings the whole thing to a head, summarizes the whole enormous problem. And there is no visible solution. One can’t swallow original sin; and equally, I think, one can’t swallow mere chance, mere pointlessness, mere mechanism. The only hope is that there may be a paradox, a living and functioning self-contradiction that admits the pointlessness and the wantonness and at the same time admits the point and the purposefulness, which one does feel certain of, at moments, as realities. Not that such a solution is much use to anyone in the throes of personal calamity. One has only one’s unassisted, individual self with which to affront the enemy. [Huxley 2007, 198]

Up to this point I have presented the printed dedication in the two books by Mitchison, but in fact there is also another very moving dedication: it is the one I acquired some time ago in a 1928 copy that had belonged to Naomi herself and was written in her own hand.

"The Witch | From Naomi | In memory of Geoff". It is a dedication full of meaning. Naomi dedicates the book to herself, defining herself as “The Witch” in memory of her son Geoff. She often described herself as “a witch, a priestess, a shape-shifter.”

It is interesting to note how, after her son’s death, Mitchison seems to have discovered — if not embraced — the theories on witchcraft of Margaret Alice Murray, the British Egyptologist and anthropologist who became famous after formulating her original hypothesis on the witch-cult in Europe, centred on the worship of a horned god, which she believed to be at the core of a witch religion. Though highly influential at the time, Murray’s theories were later seriously contested.

Years later, Mitchison’s view of witchcraft would take a central role in her most important and mature historical novel, The Bull Calves (1947), set in Scotland in 1747, shortly after the Jacobite defeat at Culloden (1746). The story focuses on a family gathering near Loch Rannoch, in a great house belonging to a powerful Scottish family, on the occasion of the marriage between Kirstie Haldane, a young woman from a Jacobite family, and William Macintosh, a Whig and supporter of the British government. Over the course of a single day and night, the characters talk, remember, quarrel and confront one another about the still open wounds left by the civil war.

Kirstie Haldane, who bears a certain resemblance to Mitchison, is surrounded by a thread of (apparent) witchcraft. Put simply, Kirstie believes she is a witch and that she caused the death of her first, violent husband through witchcraft.

That reference to herself as “The Witch” is truly significant, not least because she uses it in the very volume published after the death of her son, to whom it is dedicated. Moreover, it is only in “Hobyah! Hobyah!” that we find the character of the Old Witch, named Grauss, who acts in league with her husband, The Ogre. A diabolical and powerful figure, she employs magic and her influence over malevolent creatures to pursue her sinister aims, chiefly the capture – and possibly the consumption – of the protagonists, as well as the acquisition of wealth.

1928: Mitchison publishes Nix-Nought-Nothing and Tolkien ‘invents’ the Hobbits

The year 1928 saw the publication of Naomi Mitchison’s Nix-Nought-Nothing, and it coincided with the moment when Tolkien jotted down the now famous line, “In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit”, on a blank page of an examination paper during the summer session. Alongside that note, Tolkien began telling his children the adventures of the hobbit Bilbo Baggins – tales which, less than ten years later, would find their way onto the shelves of English bookshops in the volume published by George Allen & Unwin, The Hobbit.

For the time being – and I stress, for the time being – there is no evidence that Tolkien ever read Mitchison’s book. It is, however, highly likely that he had read or at least come across the tale of the Hobyahs, as it appears in Joseph Jacobs’s English Fairy Tales, a collection he frequently cited in On Fairy-Stories. According to Tolkien himself, these stories – among others – were not the basis for the invention of the hobbits (the Hobyahs are, in fact, the very opposite of hobbits!). Indeed, on 16 January 1938, in The Observer, a correspondent signing himself “Habit” wrote a letter addressed to Tolkien and his Hobbits:

On mentioning the hairy-footed hobbit, rather like a rabbit, to one of my contemporaries, I was amazed to see her shudder. She said she remembered an old fairy tale called “The Hobbit” in a collection read about 1904. This creature, she said, was definitely frightening, unlike Professor Tolkien’s. Would the Professor be persuaded to tell us some more about the name and inception of the intriguing hero of his book?

That “remembered an old fairy tale called “The Hobbit” in a collection read about 1904” probably referred to the Hobyahs, since he adds “creature was definitely frightening, unlike Professor Tolkien’s.”

The reply was not long in coming. Tolkien responded to the reader with a lengthy letter published in The Observer on 20 February, explaining – and adding an asterisk:

I was born in Africa, and have read several books on African exploration. I have, since about 1896, read even more books of fairy-tales of the genuine kind. Both the facts produced by the Habit would appear, therefore, to be significant. But are they? I have no waking recollection of furry pigmies (in book or moonlight); nor of any Hobbit bogey in print by 1904. I suspect that the two hobbits are accidental homophones, and am content* that they are not (it would seem) synonyms.

Adding an asterisk:

* Not quite. I should like, if possible, to learn more about the fairy-tale collection, c. 1904.

Tolkien wrote that he had not been influenced by any tale of terrifying creatures, and I have no reason to doubt his memory. Upon investigation, the only reference to the Hobyahs in 1904 occurs in Arthur Burrell’s Clear Speaking and Good Reading. It is more likely that the reference was to 1905, when the story appeared in the November issue of Good Housekeeping, published by Clifton Johnson, and in The Oak-tree Fairy Book; Favourite Fairy Tales.

Returning to Tolkien and Mitchison, we know for certain that Tolkien had read To the Chapel Perilous and Travel Light. It is also probable that he received a copy of Five Men and a Swan. Scottish Tale & Verse (1957), published – like To the Chapel Perilous – by his publisher George Allen & Unwin. Both volumes feature on their back covers the promotional text for The Lord of the Rings, issued by the same publisher.

The first known letter between the two dates from 18 December 1949, when Tolkien wrote to her after she had praised Farmer Giles of Ham, published that autumn. We also know of a surprise visit from Mitchison between 25 April and 8 May 1954. Tolkien will write to Rayner Unwin on 8 May: ‘Mrs Mitchison has been bombarding me; and she finally ran me to earth in Oxford’ (Tolkien– George Allen & Unwin archive, HarperCollins). (Scull)

Later, on 25 September 1954, shortly after the visit, he wrote to Mitchison: “Soon after your visit, as pleasant as unexpected, I had a copy made of the chronology of the Second and Third Ages, for your perusal – purely annalistic and unmotivated. If it would still interest you, I will send it.” (Letters 155)

Nix-Nought-Nothing and The Hobbit: let’s attempt a comparison

We have noted that, to date, there is no information confirming that Tolkien read Naomi Mitchison’s Nix-Nought-Nothing. In a letter dated 25 April 1954 to Mitchison, Tolkien wrote:

It has been both rude and ungrateful of me not to have acknowledged, or to have thanked you for past letters, gifts, and remembrances – all the more so, since your interest has, in fact, been a great comfort to me, and encouragement in the despondency that not unnaturally accompanies the labours of actually publishing such a work as The Lord of the Rings. (Letters 144)

Who knows whether in that phrase “to have thanked you for past letters, gifts, and remembrances” there might also have been a copy of her 1928 book! In any case, let us attempt a comparison between Mitchison’s book and The Hobbit, without any claim to be definitive or to assert certainty.

Both books were originally conceived as entertainment for children and are enriched with poems and songs reflecting traditions, moods, or key moments in the plot. In The Hobbit, the elves and dwarves sing, alongside Bilbo’s rhymes and poems. Similarly, in My Ain Sel’ there are songs by the Mother and the Fairy Girl; in Nix-Nought-Nothing, The Wizard and The King sing; and in Elfen Hill, there are several songs of the elves.

Both works feature central figures with magical powers: Gandalf in The Hobbit and The Wizard in Nix-Nought-Nothing, a figure of great power, while in Hobyah! Hobyah! there is The Witch Grauss. Moreover, both Tolkien’s story and Mitchison’s include magical objects such as rings: in The Hobbit, Bilbo’s ring, found in Gollum’s cave, grants invisibility; in My Ain Sel’, there are people who “discreetly disappeared”; and in Nix-Nought-Nothing, Mary possesses a “magic ring” crucial for her escape and for overcoming her father’s curse. Other magical items include the Fairy Girl’s small lens (or mirror) in My Ain Sel’, which grants wishes and heals, and the “silver wand” in Elfen Hill, which opens a secret passage in Elf Hill, reminiscent of Thror’s key in The Hobbit, which opens the secret door on the side of the Lonely Mountain.

Spells and curses are also common to both: in My Ain Sel’, Lady Grisel is under a “spell” cast by the fairies; in Nix-Nought-Nothing, The Wizard casts a “spell of sadness and forgetting” on the Prince and a “curse on the stealers of the ring!” The Witch Grauss in Hobyah! Hobyah! casts spells as well. In The Hobbit, the Enchanted River, a black stream in Mirkwood flowing north from its source in the Mountains of Mirkwood towards the Forest River, is enchanted, and anyone who drinks or bathes in its water falls into a deep sleep and suffers amnesia upon waking. Likewise, the Elven-king’s door closes “by magic,” a direct parallel to the use of magic for forgetfulness and imprisonment. Thorin also speaks of “curses” he hopes to lay upon Smaug.

Riddles feature in both works: in The Hobbit, Bilbo engages in the famous riddle contest with Gollum (“Riddles in the Dark”), while in Elfen Hill, the Elf King challenges Queen Miranda with three riddles to win her reward. Hidden, secret, and unknown entrances also appear in both: from the secret entrance to the Lonely Mountain and the Elven-king’s halls with a secret door over a river in The Hobbit, to the “Elfen doorway” in Elfen Hill, a secret entrance to Elf Hill opened with a silver wand. Similarly, in Hobyah! Hobyah! there is the witch and ogre’s house which Jack must infiltrate, and the caves and dens where the Hobyahs live.

Mythical and folkloric creatures abound: elves appear in both The Hobbit and Elfen Hill, and fairies are also referenced — for example, in My Ain Sel’, the Fairy Girl is a character, and the “Wee Folk” are explicitly mentioned, while in The Hobbit, an ancestor of the Tooks is said to have married a fairy, suggesting a more adventurous and less “hobbit-like” lineage; in Nix-Nought-Nothing, Mary sings of a garden full of fairies.

Memory loss is another shared theme: in Nix-Nought-Nothing, the Prince loses his memory due to The Wizard’s curse and must recover it. Similarly, Prince Garamon in Elfen Hill needs help to remember his past, while in The Hobbit, Thrain, Thorin’s father, forgets almost everything except the map and the key — a clear instance of externally induced memory loss (by the Necromancer). Both Tolkien and Mitchison also explore the desire to return home and the value of hearth and home after adventure: Bilbo longs to return to Bag End in the Shire, while in Nix-Nought-Nothing, the King ardently wishes to return to his realm of Strand-on-the-Green.

The number three is a recurring motif: in The Hobbit, there are three trolls, the dwarves disturb the elves three times, and Bilbo speaks of “third time pays for all.” In Elfen Hill, the Elf King poses three riddles; in Hobyah! Hobyah!, Jack is granted three wishes by the Hobyahs; and the answer to a riddle in Elfen Hill is “three old men in black cloaks.”

To conclude this comparative overview, in The Hobbit, a key is essential to open the secret door of the Lonely Mountain. Likewise, in Hobyah! Hobyah!! Hobyah!, the father’s keys are part of a treasure, and in Elfen Hill, there is also the admonition to “know thy key!”

These are the various and numerous similarities between Naomi Mitchison’s Nix-Nought-Nothing and Tolkien’s The Hobbit, which should not be interpreted as the latter being influenced by the former. Anyone who thinks so clearly does not know Tolkien well! At most, the similarities may indicate that both draw deeply from the traditions of folklore and fairy tales, as well as from shared readings — such as the works of Joseph Jacobs, explicitly cited by Mitchison in her volume and by Tolkien when discussing the subject in On Fairy-stories.

Who knows… the joy of research, of travelling through sources, conjectures, and stories, will never cease to fascinate and captivate me!

Here is how the Hobyahs were imagined in the editions published between 1891 and 1912.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

ANDERSON, Douglas A.

2022   ‘The Hobyahs: A Reconsideration’. Tolkien and Fantasy, December 12.

(https://tolkienandfantasy.blogspot.com/2022/12/the-hobyahs-reconsideration.html)

BAILEY, Carolyn Sherwin

1907   ‘The Hobyahs’. Firelight stories: folk tales retold for kindergarten, school and home. Springfield: Milton Bradley, 1907, 28-32.

BENTON, Jill Kathryn.

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