Author's Note: I've been cleaning offices for the last year and a half
or so up here in Vermont – so there's PLENTY of rock salt thrown. It's
awful – have YOU ever tried to vacuum that up?? shudder So anyway, I'm
obsessed with LotR and suddenly decided to write a history of salt,
Lord of the Rings style. It's just a bit of fun, but I wanted to share
it in case there are any other LotR-obsessed cleaners out there. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Tolkien made it. I just love it and obsess over it. The characters and setting are his, not mine. And as for salt...well, I don't know WHO first came up with the idea, but rest assured it was NOT me. : )
It was mid November of the year 3019 of the Third Age. The country of Gondor was suffering from early and unexpected snow and ice storms. The weather was bitterly cold. Being outside even briefly was far more than most could take.
What was far worse than the mere cold, however, was the ice. The entire city of Minas Tirith was sheeted in ice. The conditions were horrible. One could not walk from one's home to the end of the street to visit a dear friend without slipping and falling. The Houses of Healing were completely full, holding far more than they truly could. Too many people had been seriously injured because of this ice. More broken bones and strained muscles had been seen in a matter of days than had been seen in years – with the obvious exception of the casualties of the War of the Ring the previous winter and spring.
King Elessar Telcontar, born Aragorn of the north, was completely distraught over what was happening to his people. It was not merely in the city, either, but the entire kingdom. He was a great war hero, had faced the might of the Dark Lord Sauron's armies and had come away victorious. He had traveled the Paths of the Dead, commanded those who dwelt there, and come away unharmed. He had healed dozens, nay, hundreds of his people after the War, keeping those in the city safe.
And yet he could not defeat a bit of ice.
It would not be long before someone was killed, he knew. It was only a matter of time before a soldier or a curious child or a restless citizen went walking near the walls of the city levels, slipped, and tumbled to their death in the levels below. He could not have that.
He did not know what to do. It was an impossible thought to somehow melt all the ice. It would return, in any case. But he could not just let this elemental menace continue to harm his people!
Ah, how he longed for his childhood days, when snow and ice meant skating on the ponds near Rivendell. He and his foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, would go out and spend entire afternoons skating on the ice. It was the highlight of winters in the north. While Rivendell itself never fell victim to the cold, harsh weather, it had been a joy to go out into the woods and find a frozen pond.
Wait a moment – skating! Of course! He would have ice skates made and given to the citizens. Instead of walking and risk falling and harming themselves, they could skate around safely.
He could almost hear the voice of his beloved wife, Arwen, in his mind, as always frustratingly practical. And how would you have so many pairs of skates made, my love? her voice asked him. In the correct sizes for everyone, at that? And even if you could manage such a feat, how long would it be before the skates could be handed out? Would winter not be over before everyone received their own pair? And what of those who do not even know how to skate? It took you three years to master the art, Estel. There was amusement in her voice. You fell more on those skates that first winter than you ever had walking on the ice. How would your people manage to learn quickly enough for the skates to do them any good?
It was true, he knew. Skates were not the answer. But what else was there?
When the package arrived, Aragorn did not know what to expect. The writing was that of Gandalf, his dear friend and mentor, but the words of the letter left him feeling unsure.
After much consideration, he came to his decision.
It was a mere week later that these hardships Gandalf had worried about became clear.
"The blasted stuff constantly gets dragged inside..."
"Impossible to get out of the carpet..."
"Have you TRIED to sweep that?"
"I don't CARE if it makes the ice less slick; it's absolutely DESTROYING the floors."
"What was the King THINKING?"
"This is going to plague cleaners for a long, long time..."
And thus halite, rock salt, used to reduce the slickness of ice and torture those who try to clean it from buildings, came into existence.
The End
Disclaimer: Tolkien made it. I just love it and obsess over it. The characters and setting are his, not mine. And as for salt...well, I don't know WHO first came up with the idea, but rest assured it was NOT me. : )
It was mid November of the year 3019 of the Third Age. The country of Gondor was suffering from early and unexpected snow and ice storms. The weather was bitterly cold. Being outside even briefly was far more than most could take.
What was far worse than the mere cold, however, was the ice. The entire city of Minas Tirith was sheeted in ice. The conditions were horrible. One could not walk from one's home to the end of the street to visit a dear friend without slipping and falling. The Houses of Healing were completely full, holding far more than they truly could. Too many people had been seriously injured because of this ice. More broken bones and strained muscles had been seen in a matter of days than had been seen in years – with the obvious exception of the casualties of the War of the Ring the previous winter and spring.
King Elessar Telcontar, born Aragorn of the north, was completely distraught over what was happening to his people. It was not merely in the city, either, but the entire kingdom. He was a great war hero, had faced the might of the Dark Lord Sauron's armies and had come away victorious. He had traveled the Paths of the Dead, commanded those who dwelt there, and come away unharmed. He had healed dozens, nay, hundreds of his people after the War, keeping those in the city safe.
And yet he could not defeat a bit of ice.
It would not be long before someone was killed, he knew. It was only a matter of time before a soldier or a curious child or a restless citizen went walking near the walls of the city levels, slipped, and tumbled to their death in the levels below. He could not have that.
He did not know what to do. It was an impossible thought to somehow melt all the ice. It would return, in any case. But he could not just let this elemental menace continue to harm his people!
Ah, how he longed for his childhood days, when snow and ice meant skating on the ponds near Rivendell. He and his foster brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, would go out and spend entire afternoons skating on the ice. It was the highlight of winters in the north. While Rivendell itself never fell victim to the cold, harsh weather, it had been a joy to go out into the woods and find a frozen pond.
Wait a moment – skating! Of course! He would have ice skates made and given to the citizens. Instead of walking and risk falling and harming themselves, they could skate around safely.
He could almost hear the voice of his beloved wife, Arwen, in his mind, as always frustratingly practical. And how would you have so many pairs of skates made, my love? her voice asked him. In the correct sizes for everyone, at that? And even if you could manage such a feat, how long would it be before the skates could be handed out? Would winter not be over before everyone received their own pair? And what of those who do not even know how to skate? It took you three years to master the art, Estel. There was amusement in her voice. You fell more on those skates that first winter than you ever had walking on the ice. How would your people manage to learn quickly enough for the skates to do them any good?
It was true, he knew. Skates were not the answer. But what else was there?
When the package arrived, Aragorn did not know what to expect. The writing was that of Gandalf, his dear friend and mentor, but the words of the letter left him feeling unsure.
My friend,
I hope this package finds you and yours well. I send it because I have heard rumor of trouble in your city. Ice, Aragorn? You live through hardships most could never dream of, and mere ICE defeats you?
I tease, of course. Ice can be very dangerous on many levels. The contents of this package I have not shown to anyone for reasons I shall explain, but I believe your case is special and thus the risks far outweigh the rewards.
Not too long ago, Saruman and I worked on something that would help lessen the risks of ice. It is called halite. By throwing small bits of halite over ice, it works on both melting the ice and changing the texture, in order to make it less slick. I have been hesitant to tell anyone of this discovery because it was only just after we finished our experiment that I began having my first suspicions of Saruman's loyalty to the White Council. I give you the directions to make your own halite, Aragorn, along with some of the original specimen, but with this warning – Saruman worked on this as much as I, and I fear that, along with the good that it will bring, there will be hardship stemming from this halite. Use your own judgment, Aragorn.
My greetings to Arwen.
GANDALF
PS The decision for the name of 'halite' was Saruman's. I had wanted to use the name salt, since it tastes remarkably similar to the spice.
Aragorn considered the words of his friend. He knew Gandalf would not
send him something he believed would be harmful, but there were these
unknown risks to consider.I hope this package finds you and yours well. I send it because I have heard rumor of trouble in your city. Ice, Aragorn? You live through hardships most could never dream of, and mere ICE defeats you?
I tease, of course. Ice can be very dangerous on many levels. The contents of this package I have not shown to anyone for reasons I shall explain, but I believe your case is special and thus the risks far outweigh the rewards.
Not too long ago, Saruman and I worked on something that would help lessen the risks of ice. It is called halite. By throwing small bits of halite over ice, it works on both melting the ice and changing the texture, in order to make it less slick. I have been hesitant to tell anyone of this discovery because it was only just after we finished our experiment that I began having my first suspicions of Saruman's loyalty to the White Council. I give you the directions to make your own halite, Aragorn, along with some of the original specimen, but with this warning – Saruman worked on this as much as I, and I fear that, along with the good that it will bring, there will be hardship stemming from this halite. Use your own judgment, Aragorn.
My greetings to Arwen.
GANDALF
PS The decision for the name of 'halite' was Saruman's. I had wanted to use the name salt, since it tastes remarkably similar to the spice.
After much consideration, he came to his decision.
It was a mere week later that these hardships Gandalf had worried about became clear.
"The blasted stuff constantly gets dragged inside..."
"Impossible to get out of the carpet..."
"Have you TRIED to sweep that?"
"I don't CARE if it makes the ice less slick; it's absolutely DESTROYING the floors."
"What was the King THINKING?"
"This is going to plague cleaners for a long, long time..."
And thus halite, rock salt, used to reduce the slickness of ice and torture those who try to clean it from buildings, came into existence.
The End