Tolkien's Goldilocks Easter Egg: "Very Ancient Indeed"

Did J.R.R. Tolkien leave us the kind of gift we might call an Easter egg today, hiding in plain sight in the branches of Sam Gamgee's family tree in Appendix C of The Lord of the Rings? Tolkien never chose a name without thought, and so, I find it delightful to ask: why Goldilocks Gamgee?

It's a question I've been considering for several years now, and I've come to believe that the best answer may reside in Professor Tolkien's On Fairy-stories lecture which gives a near-endless feast of incredible insights into the author's thoughts, processes, and beliefs. In explaining fairytales, he speaks of their complex origins and their emanation from our inherited "cauldron of story," calling such works "very ancient indeed." How ancient? Many thousands of years? Going back to the first few Ages of Men, even?

As you look at this new painting, I'd like to invite you to join me in a "supposal" about the origin of the familiar nursery tale of Goldilocks and the Three Bears, on the basis of a shared understanding that it would be absurd to suggest that the Professor tossed this name into hobbit genealogies aimlessly.

My Tolkien Goldilocks Supposal

Let's suppose that the roots of this story are not about an ordinary little girl at all, but rather, that the tale was first shared locally in the Fourth Age of Men because it was about the second daughter of one of the greatest heroes of the Third Age: Samwise the stouthearted. He was famous in the Shire; victor of the Battle of Bywater, seven times Mayor, planter of a tree rumored to be rooted in elf-magic, master of Bag End, counselor to the King, and the father of thirteen children, including three remarkable golden-haired daughters.

Let's suppose that Samwise the stouthearted took his prodigious family to the Woody End for a spring picnic around S.R. 1438. While his children were playing at hide-and-seek, little Goldilocks came upon something in a thicket of field maples that looked to her eyes like a funny kind of hobbit smial. Let's suppose she went in at the round-ish opening to this den and discovered great chairs, beds, and bowls of porridge and she tried them all out, as we know the story goes.

Then, let's suppose that she was suddenly surprised by the return of the three bears who lived there and who had momentarily left their den to gather wild strawberries for their porridge. Imagine them coming dancing back into the cave with their fruit. And what if these were no ordinary bears, but were in fact, descendants of the great dancing bears of Númenor. As we read about in The Nature of Middle-earth, they were the friends of Men and visited their houses, because of which, they may have picked up some of Men's domestic customs. Might some few of these bears have escaped in this ships of the faithful who fled before that island fell to ruin? If so, then, this Fourth Age tale of Goldilocks connects back to the Second Age tale of the lost civilization, containing distant echoes of world-changing events, in fact.

The bears were innocent, and just as Professor Tolkien assures us more than once that blameless beasts like ponies make it to safety after danger, I'd like to suggest that some of the bears may have escaped the downfall with their lives. Traumatized by how terrible Men had become on the island in its waning years, the bears might have sought quiet, hidden places to rebuild their lives in Middle-earth. The forests of Eriador seem like good candidates for this.

Now, suppose that Goldilocks dashed away like a hearty little hobbit lass from the bear cave, accidentally carrying off one of the great wooden spoons she'd been happily eating porridge with, and she made it back to her family with a breathless and curious tale. And suppose because she came from one of the most notable local families, the tale made it all across the four farthings and over the Brandywine to Bree, where it was heard by the Big Folk who swapped yarns with the Little Folk at the Prancing Pony Inn. The tale was told and retold, and may even have made it as far as Gondor when Goldilocks grew up and married Thain Peregrin's son, given the Took family's close connection to Minas Tirith.

Over long years, the wooden spoon decayed and Big Folk only remembered the humorous tale whenever they saw a golden-haired child of their own kind. I could imagine that, much to Professor Tolkien's distaste, the entire story was eventually "relegated to the nursery" and the fact that it had been a hobbit story about hobbits was almost entirely forgotten because, by the 20th century, hobbits had become so hard to find that most people didn't even know they existed.

The Curious Clue within Goldilocks and the Three Bears

Almost entirely forgotten, but not quite, because what is the core theme of the Goldilocks folktale we know today? For no very clear reason, most of the story is devoted to explaining how she tried out the porridge, the chairs, and the beds until she found the ones that were just right. There, hiding in the middle of this ancient tale, is the prime hobbit priority of comfort. As we know, hobbit holes mean comfort (or at least they did long ago). In fact, when it comes to the book of The Hobbit, the entire journey can be read as a contrast between bothersome discomfort and wonderful comfort.

Perhaps given how uncomfortable so many of us find ourselves to be in the present Age, with its emphasis on relentless stress and work vs. leisure and enjoyment of life, the tale of Goldliocks deserves a fresh look and a hearty embrace. I'd be quite glad if I could look about and feel that things were just right, wouldn't you? Remember, the Professor considered fairytales to be reading materials for the mature, not just the young.

And so, while the remnant story from the great old cauldron has become attached to any fair-haired daughter of the Big Folk in our current Age, perhaps our supposal can give it back to the hobbits, and especially to Goldilocks Gamgee, who deserves to be remembered.

Flower Lass Names in Hobbitry

Detail from "Follow the Flowers" - Miriam Ellis

I've always been charmed by the hobbit custom of naming girl hobbit babies after flowers. Like Bilbo, I'm very fond of flora, and I was delighted when a kind patron of mine saw a preview of this paintings and reminded me that "goldilocks" is, in fact, a very ancient folkname for buttercups. Given that one of Professor Tolkien's own favorite books was a field guide to English flora, perhaps both he (and Sam and Rose) were thinking of this plant in naming this golden-haired daughter who grew up amid the gardens of Bag End.

I would like to add a final supposal here: what if when Men of old nicknamed this plant "goldilocks," they left us a token of hobbitry? The Little Folk are now hard to find, and no longer live in the open alongside Big Folk, as they once did at Bree, but what if we can see a reminder of Sam's lass every spring, dotting the meadows with simple, golden loveliness?

And a question for you, dear reader: can you think of other fairtytales of the Grimmian sort that might have originally been hobbit tales about hobbit priorities? I hope you'll have fun with this question and share your comments with me on social media.

Third Age Hobbit Fairytales and Tolkien's Wisdom

Fredegar Bolger's nurses used to alarm him with "old bogey-stories" about "goblins, wolves, and things of that sort." The Bucklanders knew queer things about The Old Forest, because some, like Merry, went into it at night by a private entrance. The Barrow-downs were a "sinister" "legend" in the Shire. While Shire-folk didn't generally hold with stories of walking elm trees being told 'round the tables of local inns, Bilbo well-remembers the enchanting fairytales Gandalf used to tell about princesses, widow's sons, giants, and dragons.

Just this short grouping of references confirms that hobbits had their own collections of fairy stories, at least some of which contained enough truth to demonstrate why we lack wisdom when we dismiss these narratives as "old wives' tales." We are the silly ones when we underrate Ioreth, or don't listen to Melian. The Bolger family's folklore deserved a little more respect from the traveling hobbits as they roamed the Perilous Realm. Like them, we are inheritors of ancient oral heirlooms, and they can be full of overlooked power.

Tolkien championed this view more than any other author I have ever read, and if you have never sat down with On Fairy-stories, you are in for a hobbit-sized feast. Please, treat yourself to it.

And while, of course, there is no way of my knowing whether Professor Tolkien would have approved of my humble supposal about Goldilocks Gamgee and the dancing bears of Númenor, I hope he would be glad to have these figures noticed on the margins of the greater tales. I painted this in tribute to his own great love of mythology and his absolute genius with ancient source materials. The Professor's respect for fairytales is one of his most endearing characteristics. His professional and spiritual interest in them create a Road I want to go ever, ever on. All of Tolkien's details are worth noticing, aren't they?

I do feel like I have found a little mushroom patch to enjoy on this walk through the woods of imagination. I hope you've enjoyed the ramble, and will be amused by this humorous video short: