Mad about Science: Lord of the Rings Architecture

By Brenden Bobby
Reader Columnist

The intricacies of architecture within the universe of The Lord of the Rings were not greatly explored in Tolkien’s texts. Much of the visuals we associate with the epic fantasy trilogy now are from the illustrations of Alan Lee. Alan Lee is an award-winning illustrator who designed many of the conceptual visuals for Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy. He also illustrated a number of other items from the trilogy, including the editions printed in 1988 and 1992, as well as The Hobbit from 1997.

He also stood in as one of the nine kings of men during the intro to The Fellowship of the Ring, which is a pretty sweet flex.

The architecture of the series is significant for many reasons. While being a fantasy story, many of the sets were actually constructed by hand and used by the actors. This meant that real architectural principles had to be applied in order to make the sets workable. Additionally, the architectural style of each race of Middle Earth speaks volumes of the psychology of those races, and the real-world peoples and values they represent.

The hobbits of the Shire have some of the most iconic architecture in the series, with homes dug into the hillsides guarded by massive round doors. It’s simple and unassuming from the outside, but they borrow from a lot of real-world design.

The earth makes a fantastic shelter when applied properly. People have used buried homes for millennia to remain cool in the summer and warm in the winter. Viking abodes in Iceland were often buried structures. This served two major purposes: the first was to safeguard the home from heavy winds that could damage the structure; the second was to retain heat during brutal Icelandic winters.

The rounded doors of hobbit holes project a certain cozy safety — they are very comforting to look at, but it’s not immediately apparent why that is. There is a deep-rooted psychology behind the design of a hobbit’s door and why it makes you feel that way, and it likely traces back in our genetic lineage to before the time of the dinosaurs.

Humans, along with many mammals, like to have a wall or a tunnel of some kind to their back. This gives us an immediate sense of safety because we know nothing can sneak up on us. This is why small mammals tend to burrow, so they can emerge from the ground and retreat as needed. This guards their rear where they can’t see, and also gives them refuge from a predator that’s likely too large to follow them. Mammals’ last common ancestor, sometime around the end of the cretaceous period more than 65 million years ago, likely burrowed in trees or in dirt to keep itself safe from gargantuan reptilian predators. This is likely a subtle psychological behavior still present in humans, and one of the reasons we tend to push beds into room corners facing doorways and have a general aversion to long hallways.

The cottagecore aesthetic of hobbit holes is a direct representation of Tolkien’s ideals and rejection of industrialization. These are simple, human-focused homes that keep room for nature alongside the craftsmanship and ingenuity of man.

The architecture of Mordor is a direct affront to this mindset. It is harsh, brutal, sharp and triangular. Sharp angles in architecture are threatening to humans. They project power, control and danger. A room shaped as a triangle acts in the same way that a cattle chute guides livestock to their ultimate fate, by removing our control to move freely and forcing us into a claustrophobic space. The key difference between a hobbit hole and a triangular fortification is that the hobbit hole gives you the freedom to advance or retreat, while a triangular fortification does not. Your choice is removed by force, power and the machine of uncompromising industry — exactly as Sauron intended.

The dark aesthetic of the architecture of Mordor also signals an industrial nature to us. Soot and ash cover every surface, like a factory without regard for life. Everything Mordor built was created for one purpose: effecting brutal oppression at any cost in the most efficient way possible — another reflection of Tolkien’s ideals and rejection of wanton industrialism.

The architecture of the elves and dwarves, respectively, represent an interesting duality of humankind. If we were unrestrained by time, what kind of beauty and harmony would we create to exist within the world around us?

The elvish architectural style is a dramatization of art nouveau. A rejection of structured, blocky and unnatural construction in favor of flow and organic shapes. It was a popular style at the end of the 1800s and the first decade of the 1900s, but it proved too costly to craft and maintain, and fell out of favor. The tree arches and sweeping curved pillars of the elves project a certain sacred nature, invoking images of cathedral archways. The elves were unbound by time, and free to build as such.

The dwarven architecture is viewed as a representation of art deco, popularized in the early 1900s, particularly in New York City. The Empire State Building is the poster building of art deco, with lavish use of gold and bronze and sharp angles. Slightly reminiscent of the brutal efficiency of Mordor, it manages to hold its own through artistic depictions of order and mastery of craftsmanship. 

Dwarven architecture projected strength and an unwillingness to bend to unearned authority — at least until they became too greedy and dug too deep.

Stay curious, 7B.