'Eala Earendel engla beorhtast
Ofer Middangeard monnum sended.'
(Hail Earendel, brightest of angels
Sent to men over Middle Earth)


"Hobbits are little people, smaller than dwarves. They love peace and quiet and good tilled earth. They dislike machines, but they are handy with tools. They are nimble but don't like to hurry. They have sharp ears and eyes. They are inclined to be fat. They wear bright colors but seldom wear shoes. They like to laugh and eat and drink."
Thus professor Tolkien describes the protagonists of the most popular of his "fairy" stories, and it is with these tiny robust creatures which we most identify ourselves throughout The Hobbit. Tolkien's fable took the publishing world by storm when it was released on September 21, 1937, yet it didn't spring fully realized from the authors imagination overnight. From interviews and letters we read that when he was Professor of Anglo-Saxon at Pembroke College he began formulating his own imaginary languages and maps of what was to become Middle-Earth.
And what was his purpose in laying these musings down on paper, of compiling such a dense world full of music and poetry and alien cultures? We can get a clue from his essay "On Fairy Stories" where he defines fantasy as a "Sub-creative Art" the goal of which is to create a "Secondary World" containing "the inner consistency of reality."
"What really happens," he explains "is that the story maker proves a successful 'sub-creator'. He makes a Secondary World which your mind can enter. Inside it, what he relates is 'true'. It accords with the laws of that world."
Tolkien was essentially an artist attempting to write something which would be considered beautiful and compelling purely by virtue of it's faithfulness to it's own inner laws. And it's at this point that the specifically Christian and biblical roots of his thoughts begin to emerge. As he saw it "fantasy is a natural human activity". Its natural because we were created in God's image, and we are sub-creators(Tolkien's own terminology) precisely because our Maker is the Creator par excellence.
"The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work," he wrote, "unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision. That is why I have not put in, or have cut out, practically all references to anything like "religion", to cults or practices, in the Imaginary world. For the religious element is absorbed into the story and the symbolism"
At the core of Tolkien's faith we discover the joy of being created and redeemed - "Because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker" (On Fairy Stories). This led him to approach life optimistically, with the profound conviction that despite the evil of a fallen world, all will be well if we seek the truth and live accordingly.
"Of course I do not mean that the Gospels tell what is only a fairy-story;" he wrote in one of his letters, " but I do mean very strongly that they do tell a fairy-story: the greatest. Man the story-teller would have to be redeemed in a manner consonant with his nature: by a moving story. But since the author of it is the supreme Artist and the Author of Reality, this one was also made to Be, to be true."
Canopy have all loved different aspects of Tolkien's art, and out of a desire to further delve into this fantasy world we have set to music some of our favorite pieces of poetry from The Hobbit which we perform as an effort to further glorify our Creator and reveal Him to a hurting world. We often invite our listeners to learn more about God's blueprint for our lives, and we invite you to do the same by clicking HERE.



you can stream the songs to your computer if you'd like to listen to them now; or you can invest a little more time and download the MP3 versions to your computer or Ipod to listen at your leisure, be our guest.
"Chip The Glasses"lyricsstreamdownload mp3
"Misty Mountains"lyricsstreamdownload mp3
"The Valley"lyricsstreamdownload mp3
"Journey Of The Wind"lyricsstreamdownload mp3
"Barrels On The River"lyricsstreamdownload mp3
"The King Beneath The Mountain"lyricsstreamdownload mp3
"The Dragon Is Withered"lyricsstreamdownload mp3



Chip the glasses and crack the plates!



Thereupon the twelve dwarves - not Thorin, he was too important, and stayed talking to Gandalf - jumped to their feet, and made tall piles of all the things. Off they went, not waiting for trays, balancing columns, of plates, each with a bottle on top, with one hand, while the hobbit ran after them almost squeaking with fright: "please be careful!" and 'please, don't trouble! I can manage". But the dwarves only started to sing…..

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!
Blunt the knives and bend the forks!
That's what Bilbo Baggins hates -
Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

Cut the cloth and tread the fat!
Pour the milk on the pantry floor!
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!
Splash the wine on every door!

Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;
Pound them up with a thumping pole;
And when you've finished, if any are whole,
Send them down the hall to roll!

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!
So, carefully! Carefully with the plates!


And of course they did none of those dreadful thing, everything was cleaned and put safe as quick as lightening, while the hobbit was turning round and round in the middle of the kitchen, trying to see what they were doing.

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Far Over The Misty Mountains Cold


The dark filled all the room, and the fire died down, and the shadows were lost, and still they played on. And suddenly first one and then another began to sing as they played, deep-throated singing of the dwarves in the deep places of their ancient homes; and this is like a fragment of their song, if it can be like their song without their music….

Far over the misty mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old
We must away ere the break of day,
To seek the pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient kings and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light and moon and sun.

For over the misty mountains cold
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they lay long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by man or elves.

The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire was red, it flaming spread;
Laid low like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale,
Then dragon's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountains smoked beneath the moon;
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled their hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

For over misty mountains grim
To dungeons deep and caverns dim
We must away ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and a jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. back to the top


The Dragon Is Withered


It was on May the First that the two came back at last to the brink of the valley of Rivendell, where stood the Last (or the First) Homely House. Again it was evening, their ponies were tired, especially the one that carried the baggage; and they all felt in need of rest. As they rode down the steep path, Bilbo heard the elves still singing in the trees, as if they had not stopped since he left; and as soon as the riders came down into the lower glades of the wood they burst into song of much the same kind as before. This is something like it;

The dragon is withered,
His bones are now crumbled;
His armour is shivered,
His splendour is humbled!
Though sword shall be rusted,
And throne and crown perish
With strength that men trusted
And wealth that they cherish,

Here grass is still growing,
And leaves are yet swinging,
The white water flowing,
And elves are yet singing
Come! Tra-la-la-lally!
Come back to the valley!

The stars are far brighter
Than gems without measure,
The moon is far whiter
Than silver in treasure;
The fire is more shining
On hearth in the gloaming,
Than gold won by mining,
So why go a-roaming?

O! Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to the valley.

O! Where are you going,
So late in returning?
The river is flowing,
The stars are all burning!
O! Whither so laden
So sad and so dreary?
Here elf and elf-maiden
Now welcome the weary

With Tra-la-la-lally
Come back to the valley,
Tra-la-la-lally
Fa-la-la-lally
Fa-la!

Then the elves of the valley came out and greeted them and led them across the water to the house of Elrond. There a warm welcome was made them, and there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures.

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The King Beneath The Mountain


The quays were thronged with hurrying feet. Some began to sing snatches of old songs concerning the return of the King under the Mountain; that it was Thror's grandson not Thror himself that had come back did not bother them at all. Others took up the song and it rolled loud and high over the lake….

The King beneath the mountains,
The King carven in stone,
The lord of silver fountains
Shall come into his own!
His crown shall be upholden,
His harp shall be restrung,
His halls shall echo golden
To songs of yore re-sung.

The woods shall wave on mountains,
And grass beneath the sun;
His wealth shall flow in fountains
And the rivers golden run.

The streams shall run in gladness,
The lakes shall shine and burn,
All sorrow fail and sadness
At the Mountain King's return!

So they sang, or very like that, only there was a great deal more of it, and there was much shouting as well as the music of harps and fiddles mixed up with it. Indeed such excitement had not been known in the town in the memory of the oldest grandfather.
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