This tale grew in the telling, until it became a history of the Great
War of the Ring and included many glimpses of the yet more ancient history
that preceded it. It was begun soon after The Hobbit was written and before
its publication in 1937; but I did not go on with this sequel, for I wished
first to complete and set in order the mythology and legends of the Elder
Days, which had then been taking shape for some years. I desired to do this
for my own satisfaction, and I had little hope that other people would be
interested in this work, especially since it was primarily linguistic in
inspiration and was begun in order to provide the necessary background of
'history' for Elvish tongues.

When those whose advice and opinion I sought corrected little hope to
no hope, I went back to the sequel, encouraged by requests from readers for
more information concerning hobbits and their adventures. But the story was
drawn irresistibly towards the older world, and became an account, as it
were, of its end and passing away before its beginning and middle had been
told. The process had begun in the writing of The Hobbit, in which there
were already some references to the older matter: Elrond, Gondolin, the
High-elves, and the ores, as well as glimpses that had arisen unbidden of
things higher or deeper or darker than its surface: Durin, Moria, Gandalf,
the Necromancer, the Ring. The discovery of the significance of these
glimpses and of their relation to the ancient histories revealed the Third
Age and its culmination in the War of the Ring.

Those who had asked for more information about hobbits eventually got
it, but they had to wait a long time; for the composition of The Lord of the
Rings went on at intervals during the years 1936 to 1949, a period in which
I had many duties that I did not neglect, and many other interests as a
learner and teacher that often absorbed me. The delay was, of course, also
increased by the outbreak of war in 1939, by the end of which year the tale
had not yet reached the end of Book One. In spite of the darkness of the
next five years I found that the story could not now be wholly abandoned,
and I plodded on, mostly by night, till I stood by Balin's tomb in Moria.
There I halted for a long while. It was almost a year later when I went on
and so came to Lothlurien and the Great River late in 1941. In the next year




I wrote the first drafts of the matter that now stands as Book Three, and
the beginnings of chapters I and III of Book Five; and there as the beacons
flared in Anurien and Thjoden came to Harrowdale I stopped. Foresight had
failed and there was no time for thought.

It was during 1944 that, leaving the loose ends and perplexities of a
war which it was my task to conduct, or at least to report, 1 forced myself
to tackle the journey of Frodo to Mordor. These chapters, eventually to
become Book Four, were written and sent out as a serial to my son,
Christopher, then in South Africa with the RAF. Nonetheless it took another
five years before the tale was brought to its present end; in that time I
changed my house, my chair, and my college, and the days though less dark
were no less laborious. Then when the ’end’ had at last been reached the
whole story had to be revised, and indeed largely re-written backwards. And
it had to be typed, and re-typed: by me; the cost of professional typing by
the ten-fingered was beyond my means.

The Lord of the Rings has been read by many people since it finally
appeared in print; and I should like to say something here with reference to
the many opinions or guesses that I have received or have read concerning
the motives and meaning of the tale. The prime motive was the desire of a
tale-teller to try his hand at a really long story that would hold the
attention of readers, amuse them, delight them, and at times maybe excite
them or deeply move them. As a guide I had only my own feelings for what is
appealing or moving, and for many the guide was inevitably often at fault.
Some who have read the book, or at any rate have reviewed it, have found it
boring, absurd, or contemptible; and I have no cause to complain, since I
have similar opinions of their works, or of the kinds of writing that they
evidently prefer. But even from the points of view of many who have enjoyed
my story there is much that fails to please. It is perhaps not possible in a
long tale to please everybody at all points, nor to displease everybody at
the same points; for I find from the letters that I have received that the
passages or chapters that are to some a blemish are all by others specially
approved. The most critical reader of all, myself, now finds many defects,
minor and major, but being fortunately under no obligation either to review
the book or to write it again, he will pass over these in silence, except
one that has been noted by others: the book is too short.