Boromir entered the room, bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight, casting dancing shadows as he traversed its expanse. His exploration led him to a fresco that whispered ancient tales—depicting Isildur cradling the radiant, fractured Narsil, the blade that severed the ring from Sauron's grasp. Forged in the First Age by Telchar of Nogrod, the Dwarven-smith, it resonated with primordial power.

Amid his contemplation, Boromir felt a silent presence. In a corner, a figure, guardian of forgotten lore, held a book cradling the whispers of ages past. "You are no elf?" Boromir inquired.

Seated in enigmatic quietude, the mysterious man responded, "Men of the south find welcome here."

Unabated curiosity prompted Boromir to question, "Who are you?"

A voice from the shadows replied, "I am a friend of Gandalf the Grey."

With a nod, Boromir acknowledged, "Then, we are here on common purpose, friend." An awkward stillness hung briefly.

Feeling unspoken tension, Boromir shifted his gaze. In the heart of the room, surrounded by Elvish artistry, a statue stood—a stone-carved Elven Princess cradling something mysterious. He ascended the staircase for a closer gaze.

In a reverent murmur, Boromir spoke, "The shards of Narsil." Myth woven into reality. Lifting the broken sword, he mused, "The blade that severed the ring from Sauron's grasp." Fingers ran over what seemed dulled, and a crimson stream, as red as wine, painted his hand.

Surprised, he whispered, "It's still sharp." Feeling the eyes of the mysterious figure, Boromir turned, exchanging awkward glances. An unspoken tension hung in the air.

In a blend of frustration and revelation, Boromir declared, "No more than a broken heirloom." Like Isildur, he dropped the sword, and it embraced by the ground. Boromir departed, stealing a swift, sidelong glance before his exit.

Strider approached the broken blade and picked it up from the ground. He cradled it in his grasp and returned it to its resting place. He stepped back, hand over his heart, a silent tribute to the heirloom keeper.

Despite its apocryphal nature, this scene from Peter Jackson’s cinematic version of “The Fellowship of the Rings” reflects a deeper truth found within Tolkien’s world. And no, I’m not talking about character development for Aragorn. The deeper truth found in this scene is that Rivendell serves not only as a sacred sanctuary but also as a treasury safeguarding the forgotten wisdom of ages past.

This is something that has always drawn me to the place of Rivendell. While Lothlórien was a place where ancient things lived, moved, and had their being, Rivendell seemed to be much “homelier” towards mortal men than other Elvish realms. This sentiment of Rivendell being a sacred sanctuary of forgotten wisdom isn’t a thought that’s novel to me but finds echoes in Tolkien's own words. In “The Fellowship of the Ring,” he wrote:

“In Rivendell, there was memory of ancient things.”

This seems to be a part of the overall spirit of Rivendell — a pattern impressed upon the physical space of the Valley of Imladris. I don’t believe that there’s a “Vala for Lost Things” akin to Saint Anthony in the Christian tradition named in Tolkien’s work, but it wouldn’t be hard to imagine that something like that could be present there. Lothlórien, another Elvish realm, was associated with the Vala of Dreams and Visions — Irmo, who became known as “Lórien” due to his Gardens of Lórien. Perhaps a fitting Vala for Rivendell would have been Lórien’s wife — Estë, whose concern was the healing of hurts and weariness. It’s certainly the case that when one grows in wisdom of ancient things they become not only wiser but also whole and less susceptible to evil (Prov. 1:7).

I digress, but again one can’t help noticing that a certain spirit is embodied in Rivendell that loves ancient things and desires to conserve them. It seems to be at the heart of this sacred space.

For those unfamiliar with Tolkien’s legendarium, Rivendell was established in the Second Age following the devastating assault by the dark lord Sauron on the Elvish realm of Eregion. Gifted with the Ring Vilya by Gilgalad, Elrond possessed the power to safeguard Rivendell and to slow the passage of time in its hidden valley.

This haven held the precious heirlooms of the Rangers of the North from the lost kingdom of Arnor, including the shards of Elendil's sword Narsil, the Sceptre of Annúminas, and the Star of Elendil. Elrond even extended his protection to the descendants of Arnor's throne, fostering them in Rivendell (there’s that Estë connection again). Notably, Aragorn, the last heir, encountered and fell in love with Elrond's daughter, Arwen. They were joined in marriage after Aragorn ascended to the throne and was crowned High King of both Gondor and Arnor.

This information is sourced from Appendix A in “The Return of the King,” where Tolkien records:

"After Arvedui the North-kingdom ended, for the Dúnedain were now few and all the peoples of Eriador diminished. Yet the line of the kings was continued by the Chieftains of the Dúnedain, of whom Aranarth son of Arvedui was the first. Arahael his son was fostered in Rivendell, and so were all the sons of the chieftains after him; and there also were kept the heirlooms of their house: the ring of Barahir, the shards of Narsil, the star of Elendil, and the sceptre of Annúminas."

This fact is even more explicitly detailed in “The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien.” In Letter 131, probably composed in late 1951 to Milton Waldman, there is a footnote stating:

“Elrond symbolises throughout the ancient wisdom, and his House Lore — the preservation in reverent memory of all tradition concerning the good, wise, and beautiful.”

In light of the source material, I believe that it is beyond dispute that Rivendell is a sanctuary where ancient echoes linger and the wisdom of bygone eras find sacred refuge. The heart of Rivendell beats with a passion for preserving the forgotten wisdom of ages past.

Now, I present my next proposition to you. The fundamental nature of Rivendell, with its spirit to preserve and shield, emerges as a poignant inspiration as we shift our focus toward comprehending how such a spirit might be reflected in the sacred spaces of our world, especially within the church.

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