___
The discussions this Tuesday evening wandered from academic standards to gardening, and then faltered altogether, until the following exchange:
“Well, not to jump into politics this late, but what about the story in today’s Guardian?”
“Today’s what?”
The sound of a folded newspaper being opened and scuffled to fullness.
“Here, Ian, you troglodyte. Today, July 16, 1962, page one, ‘Government Unveils Cambridge Five As Spies. Great Damage Done’. It gets worse. ‘Kim Philby, a graduate of Cambridge’s Trinity College, revealed as double agent for Soviets.’”
“At least not an Oxford man.”
“Don’t be too proud, Clive, there are foxes in every henhouse.”
“My God, what’s happened to Queen and Country, and all that?”
“Tollers, you’re quiet. Why the down face? Jack, you tell us.”
“Well, as his friend, I know some of this, but its up to him.”
“Eh, Tollers?”
“Come along, we are your fellows here.”
“I worked with him.”
“Who?”
“Kim Philby.”
A long, questioning silence.
“All right, now that you’ve wilted the spinach, tell us. Enough of myths and old men’s tales for tonight. Come on.”
“Very well. Hardly Top Secret anymore, I suppose. Much of it is already declassified. Here it is — just before the last war, I was briefly an agent for the government, for her Majesty’s Secret Service.”
“You rascal! Another of your secret gates, Tollers.”
“As you know, I published The Hobbit in 1937. I had what I thought was a modest reputation for scholarly work with languages. I was recruited by S.I.S., as part of their code-breaking effort. I was assigned to Bletchley Park, the cypher school. Alan Turin, who finally broke the Enigma Code, was there. Hitler’s agents were scouring the world in search of a ‘living cipher’—an organic language that changes its apparent meanings on its own and is thus immune to code-breaking. He was understandably concerned with his security, and so wanted an impenetrable code to be used by his personal cadre of bodyguards.”
Someone takes a big slurp of ale, sets down his glass, and belches.
“Keep going, we’re on pins.”
“During that first month I was part of a team that followed reports of far-flung Nazi agents studying obscure tongues — Ket in Siberia, Na-Dene in Arizona, Vandalic in Prussia. I remember some jokester in our group passed around a compilation of Burrough’s language of the Great Apes, as spoken by Tarzan. Things soon got very serious, however, when I was unexpectedly approached, at my Oxford office, by two gentlemen. They claimed to be scholars of Norse mythology. They said they wished to explore the connections between Beowulf and older Norse legends. They spoke in particular of a collection of ancient documents that told of rings and elves and orcs. I told them such were staples of ancient Norse and Old English texts. They added that these documents displayed a ‘living language’.”
“At their urging, I looked briefly at one example, an apparently ancient document. It was fascinating but something told me not to let on. I told them I could not fathom its meaning. I reported the encounter to my superiors. One of the men that debriefed me was Philby, already a shadowy triple agent it seems, with known links to Von Ribbentrop and others in the Third Reich. He asked about their collection of documents. Sometime later, having completed my pending projects, I was relieved of duty without explanation. I didn’t ask questions, and happily returned to Oxford.”
“And then?”
“My life was very busy with teaching and writing. I didn’t think any more of my S.I.S. experience until recently … yes, Clive?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but Sarah tells us we are past our curfews.”
“Excellent, for there’s little else for me to tell.”
“Next Tuesday, then?”
“Ah, yes, Clive will be reading. We’ll no doubt forget where we were just now.”
“Goodnight all. Don’t forget your hat, Jack.”
Shuffling and packing up and goodbye sounds.
* * *
The following teletype was discovered in declassified files of the Government Code and Cypher School (GC&CS), now a museum, at Bletchley Park, north of London:
September 6, 1939. Field Report. Station X. Documents referenced in Tolkien, J.R.R. interview retrieved from subjects Glaus and Spearman. Said subjects, formerly members of Anglo-German Fellowship Union, likely Nazi operatives. Documents in their possession comprised of archaic parchments and scrolls with much runic text, believed stolen from historical collection of Lord Grivenhall at Ashburnham. They are deemed unlikely to contain “ubersprache” sought by Hitler under his Seigfried Directive. Subjects turned over to S.I.S. for interrogation. Tolkien status with GC&CS compromised. Documents retained in original barrister’s case and stored at Loch Uiguenal with notation for possible later delivery to Tolkien, who will be relieved of duty. Philby, H.A.R. 794XGCCS.
Post-script: Spearman had in his effects several 8 1/2 × 11 b&w photos, apparently movie-production stills, signed by Leni Reifenstahl, with her compliments to Joseph Goebbels. Her inscriptions translates to: “I trust we can soon complete the Fuhrer’s movie project, Nacht der Dökkálfer.” That means “Night of the Dark Elves.” Unlikely this is a code, so I consider it to be a curiosity for another time.
The movie stills, and the referenced movie, have never been found.