In Tolkien’s book, Thorin quotes his terms for Bilbo’s engagement as a ‘burglar’, including all travelling expenses and the defrayment of funeral expenses! In the film, these arrangements are formulated into a ‘Deed of Contract’, something that kept Dan occupied over many weeks: ‘I started out with what was in the book – “cash on delivery, up to and not exceeding one fourteenth of total profits (if any)” – but was then asked to add a few more paragraphs, so I made another version. Next they said: “Jam in some more; smaller writing; fill up all the lines,” so I did. That was version two. Then it was: “Make it even smaller, tighter; more clauses!” I did about four versions and I was still being told: “Give us more, more, more!” So I said, “Right! You want more? I’ll give you more!” and the final thing just keeps going on and on, with amendments and annotations and added-on sections that fold out – more than enough to thoroughly bamboozle this poor hobbit!’

  It took several attempts before the filmmakers thought Bilbo’s contract was big enough.

  As every reader of Tolkien’s book knows, the first image that you see is a map, made by Thorin’s grandfather, King Thror, showing the Lonely Mountain and the Desolation of Smaug. In The Fellowship of the Ring, this map – badly battered – is seen framed and hanging on a wall in Bag End. For The Hobbit, Dan was required to recreate the map as it would have looked when Bilbo first set eyes on it: ‘I had to make a map, still looking appropriately ancient, but – because this is sixty years earlier – a lot less travel-stained and battle-scarred.

  Thror’s map, which would be ‘magically’ enhanced by Weta Digital to reveal its moon-runes.

  Then I made a few more versions of it with increasing wear and tear until finally we were able to match the map in Fellowship, creating another continuity link between Rings and The Hobbit.’

  Thorin holds the iconic Thror’s map.

  The process of aging Thror’s map and the other documents in the film is called ‘distressing’ and is as much of a craft as creating them in the first place: they are bent, folded, cockled and creased, scraped with knives, made wet, stained and dirtied, torn, ripped and even singed with fire. ‘It’s time-consuming,’ says Dan, ‘because some papers are surprisingly resistant and can often take quite a beating before showing what looks like genuine deterioration. In fact, you sometimes have to be quite brutal and deal with them in a heavy-handed manner. But, of course, you also have to know when to stop.’

  For Lake-town, Dan created financial papers and ledgers for the Master’s chambers and maps, marine charts, a book of herbs and ancestral portraits for Bard’s house – all rendered to different scales along with a moon calendar: ‘It shows the Lunar cycles, solstices and equinoxes which the people of Lake-town would have needed because of their trade as fishermen. Most importantly, the chart shows Durin’s Day, “the start of the Dwarves’ New Year, when the last moon of Autumn and the first sun of Winter appear in the sky together”, and a vital date for the Dwarves’ quest, because it is on that day that the keyhole to the secret door in the side of the Lonely Mountain will be revealed.’

  An unrolled deed proves that the Master does, indeed, own everything in Lake-town.

  Talking to Dan, surrounded by brushes, pens, bottles of ink and desks littered with bundles of what look like centuries-old letters secured with sealing wax, and such intriguing oddities as a poster for Buckland’s Midsummer Fayre (‘Dancing, pony-rides, toffee-apples, ales and meads, fortunes told, puppets, conjurors and jugglers’) it is obvious how much pleasure and pride he takes in his work. Except, as he is quick to point out, it isn’t any such thing: ‘I cannot call a day of this “work”! I do what I love doing – one day Orcish scribbling, another day milestones for Mirkwood with Elvish numbers; the next, a list of shaving styles for Lake-town’s barbershop – and the amazing thing is people actually pay me to do it!’

  DOL GULDUR

  * * *

  As is told in the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien, and was seen in Peter Jackson’s film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings, almost three thousand years before Bilbo’s adventure Sauron was overthrown by the Last Alliance of Men and Elves and Isildur, the Númeórean Man of the West, cut the Ring from the Dark Lord’s hand. Two years later, at the Battle of Gladden Fields, Isildur – then High King of Arnor and Gondor – was fleeing an army of Orcs. He put on the Ring to make himself invisible, but while swimming the Anduin Isildur was spotted by the Orcs and slain. The Ring left his finger and remained lost until it was found, years later, by Gollum.

  * * *

  Concept Art Director Alan Lee’s digital painting shows Dol Guldur brooding under a lowering sky.

  Isildur provides a Númenórean inspiration to Alan and John’s designs for Dol Guldur, as if the stronghold on ‘The Hill of Sorcery’ dated from a much earlier time when the island of Númenor sank into the Western sea and its people fled to Middle-earth.

  Gandalf discovers that this forbidding stronghold can be a very dangerous place.

  Rough stone walls bound with rusting and jagged iron: who could live in such a creepy place …?

  ‘We’ve treated it as being an ancient place,’ explains Alan, ‘that might have been built by the Númenóreans and later taken over by Orcs and finally moved into by the Necromancer.’

  Concept art, such as this pencil drawing by Alan Lee, was closely followed by the Set Designers.

  ‘We always welcome any excuse,’ says John, ‘to add an extra layer of Middle-earth archaeology and, in Rings, we indulged in a bit of extrapolation in that several of the older cities and strongholds were intended to be Númenórean in design. At Dol Guldur, the result is dark, rigid and arrogant: a Cyclopean edifice built from huge blocks of stone, trussed together with iron braces that are rusting and decaying. Because the concept of riveting iron to stone (the natural being bound and held by the man-made) is so uncomfortable, the look is incredibly menacing.’

  The external appearance, as Alan explains, reflects Dol Guldur’s interior purpose: ‘The ironwork that is helping to hold the whole place together also forms a maze of cages and dungeons and there are cavities behind this network of iron that are stuffed with skeletal human remains. The theme of entrapment follows through because Dol Guldur has been so overrun by the forest and invaded with vines and brambles so as to be virtually hidden. That was very much Peter’s concept: not to have a dramatic image of an imposing, silhouetted building, such as a big, evil tower –’

  The dressed courtyard set shows a statue surrounded by mysterious iron-clad niches. Concept drawings would be used by the Art Department’s modellers to carve three-dimensional studies in polystyrene.

  ‘Big evil tower?’ chips in John. ‘Been there, done that!’

  ‘– but instead,’ continues Alan, ‘to have a ruin that you almost come across by mistake. As if you had lost your way in the forest and then suddenly realize that you are walking along the top of a wall or down a flight of stairs and, before you know it, are inside, drawn in against your will, trapped like an insect in a Venus flytrap.’

  For John, the feeling of being ensnared is reinforced by the architecture: ‘Everywhere are teeth-like spikes of rusted iron: I’m not sure when they first appeared or which of us introduced them, but they eventually became one of the key elements. The design also features a lot of overleaning, diagonal lines and acute angles that are disturbing and oppressive; it’s as if, infested by the evil that surrounds the Necromancer, the entire structure is closing in on you; and, before you know it, you are caught and unlikely to get out in one piece.’

  Peter makes sure that Ian McKellen’s Gandalf is sitting comfortably on his fellow Wizard’s sled as he and Radagast, played by Sylvester McCoy, prepare to leave Dol Guldur.

  ‘Essentially,’ says Alan, ‘our take on Dol Guldur was intended as a suitable environment for the Necromancer and his servants. One of the key sets is based on an equilateral triangle, on each side of which are three staircases. The triangle is such a great form to work with because wherever you are in the set, you’ve always got interesting angles and it also replicates the angle of view of a camera. You can stand in any corner, take in the whole set, and all the different shapes really play out perfectly in a wide shot. This place is going to stick in people’s minds, not least because of the various implements and devices of torture and death that I invented!’ Alan laughs, adding, ‘I’m really not too proud of myself for some of those things and I’d rather not think about them overmuch … I just wanted to make it as creepy as possible!’

  ‘Well, you succeeded,’ says John with a smile. ‘It’s extremely creepy! Actually, Alan’s really quite a creepy person, though, of course, you wouldn’t immediately suspect it! Debonair, soft-spoken, well-educated, Alan Lee welcomes you to … his dark side!’

  The ‘Hill of Sorcery’ looms above Mirkwood.

  Gandalf enters Dol Guldur.

  Evidence that prisoners have died here.

  A dark magic has drawn the Nazgûl to the former fortress.

  Radagast flees the ruins, having encountered a malevolent, shadowy presence.

  Concept art of part of the benighted interior by John Howe and an entangled bridge by Alan Lee.

  Ann Maskrey, Costume Designer

  MORE THAN JUST ‘SEWING’

  * * *

  ‘New Zealand is a very beautiful, but sometimes tricky, place.’ Costume Designer, Ann Maskrey, is recollecting filming on location for The Hobbit. ‘There were days of getting up at four in the morning, driving a car I’d never driven before to a place that I’d no idea where it was. I’d be driving in total darkness, thinking, “No one’s got a clue where I am and, what’s more, I don’t know where I am either!” Then, the sun would come up on a breathtaking vista such as a rainbow arching across the landscape and hitting a distant farmhouse, and I’d pull over and take a photograph that wouldn’t look out of place on a calendar.’

  * * *

  Then, within a few hours, Ann would be overseeing a baker’s dozen of Dwarves being costumed and loaded into thirteen helicopters with costume assistants and their kit in order to be piloted to some remote location on the other side of a mountain range.

  Martin Freeman wears Bilbo’s brushed corduroy jacket, which shows signs of wear and tear.

  Whether on the road in the North and South Islands of New Zealand or in Peter Jackson’s Stone Street Studios in Wellington, The Desolation of Smaug offered Ann a new batch of challenges and rewards to those she experienced on An Unexpected Journey. ‘Sometimes it was simply about the numbers involved: making thirty or forty versions of Bilbo’s burgundy corduroy jacket required to show various stages of wear and tear across the length of the hobbit’s journey. If, for example, it is going to get covered in gloop after encountering the giant spiders in Mirkwood, you can’t just throw it in the wash and expect it to look the same afterwards. And, even if you could, you mustn’t, because you might need the gloop-covered jacket again if the filmmakers want to go back later to reshoot that scene.’

  For Ann, the most exciting sequences were those where she was tackling costumes for characters previously unseen in the cinematic realm of Middle-earth, such as the Elves of Mirkwood: ‘In contrast to the Elves of Rivendell, these are hunters and warriors, beings of the forest, earthier, hardier and spikier.’

  It is in Mirkwood that audiences will be reacquainted with a member of the Fellowship of the Ring, Legolas, but sixty years earlier in time and in the hitherto unseen woodland kingdom of his father, Thranduil. ‘Orlando’s costume as Legolas,’ says Ann, ‘consists of a tunic of sage green, panelled suede with cotton velveteen trousers and handmade boots with specially sculpted bronze fastenings that match those on the leather vambraces that protect his arms when using a bow and arrow. There are added elements of decorative embroidery, inspired by the fronds of plants, over which we had to take great care, because being slightly raised, we needed to ensure that it wasn’t too much for the 3D camera.’

  Lee Pace reveals with a flourish the sumptuous purple and orange Lurex lining of his silver brocade coat.

  In costuming Thranduil, Ann had the opportunity to establish a character not previously seen in The Lord of the Rings. ‘His outfit is a fitted coat with a high collar in a fine silk brocade the colour of tarnished silver, worn with bronze-coloured trousers and handmade boots. I wanted Thranduil to have a slightly sinister look, so I designed a brooch for him to wear at his throat that has a tendril design and, in a claw setting, a piece of mineral called iron pyrite, or Fool’s Gold. Over this garment he has a robe with a massive train, and a gorgeous lining of shot purple and orange Lurex that looks like fire. The whole effect gives Thranduil a feeling of being a creature of fire and ice.’

  Ann Maskrey’s design for one of Thranduil’s many outfits and the striking final costume as worn by Lee Pace.

  The silver tendril brooch that Thranduil wears at his throat.

  It is a costume that actor Lee Pace inhabits immaculately: ‘It has a faded grandeur but is still imposing and Lee, who is an actor with a fashion model’s poise and grace – and great coat-hanger shoulders, as I like to call them – carries it off with drama and flourish.’

  A later costume has Thranduil in a calf-length coat made from a fabric specially developed in the textile department: ‘Made of silk viscose velvet, it has a screen-printed motif of a leaf pattern such as you might find on the ground at the end of autumn, when all you can see is just the veins. Sandwiched between this outer fabric and crushed velvet on the inside is a layer of silk chiffon with a tiny gold metallic stripe which, when it moves, catches a glint of light and looks particularly effective when filmed with the 3D camera.’

  The woodland setting of the Elven-king’s realm is reflected in many aspects of the design, such as Thranduil’s rings: ‘I wanted an organic look that hinted at the extent to which Mirkwood has become overgrown with suffocating vines and brambles.’

  Beautiful but deadly: Evangeline Lilly models Tauriel’s costume of a coat-dress with a fitted bodice and elongated, overlapping leaf-shapes, over which she wears a gilded leather corset, and stretch-velvet leggings.

  For the other new Elf, Tauriel, the forest motifs are used to help define the character’s beauty: ‘She has leggings of stretch velvet with a print of scattered leaves and a coatdress that has a fitted bodice and sleeves over which she wears a corset in gilded brown Italian leather. The skirt of the coat comprises elongated, overlapping leaf shapes in a green fabric textured like tree-bark and lined with lightweight Habotai silk, mottle-dyed green and brown and with tiny fabric shapes like scraps of leaf providing a subtle texture that can be glimpsed as she moves.’

  Ann was especially looking forward to designing costumes for Lake-town: ‘It was fresh territory and I had this evocative image in my mind from the book of the cold lake with its city built on stilts. It is the only human group in the whole movie and it was such a refreshing change, after all those tall Elves and short, fat Dwarves, to be able to think: “At last, I’ve got some normal people to dress!”’

  Peter Jackson wanted the place to be a cross-cultural melting pot of different peoples and races and that inspired Ann’s designs: ‘I gathered a lot of references: Tibetan, Mongolian, Russian and Afghan with a bit of Asia thrown in and then blended together – being careful to avoid the possibility of anyone saying, “Ah! I know where that’s come from!” Essentially, everything goes into the mixing pot, you stir it all up and, hopefully, pull out a look.’

  The look that emerged is particularly suited to the climate: ‘Because it’s a cold place, everyone is bundled up warmly with several layers and there’s a lot of fur, quilted fabrics and knitted shawls. Knowing it is also a poor community, I studied a lot of paintings and old sepia photographs of Russian peasant workers from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries which helped us create the feeling that Lake-town people’s clothes are well-worn and have seen better days.’

  Part of the look came from what Ann calls ‘a simple trick’ of restricting the colour palette for the Lake-town costumes: ‘We avoided any and every shade of green, keeping our hues to russets, tans and mustardy tones, burgundies, purples, blues, greys and a little bit of black. Fabric decoration was in a style very different to anything else in The Hobbit: prints and embroidery utilizing an ethnic, tribal look. ‘Lake-town is populated with people of different physical attributes, a cultural and social hotchpotch: among the crowds are adults and children, uniformed servants of the Master – even, since it is a port, a few tawdry ladies!’

  The designs also evoke the fact that, whilst many of the inhabitants are lake people, there are those whose ancestors came down from the slopes of the Lonely Mountain when the city of Dale was destroyed. This suggested the idea for a cultural back-history to Lake-town that, while not specifically referenced in the film, is part of the underlying inspiration for the costume designs, as Ann explains: ‘I came up with the idea of there being a Lake-town cult that developed into the concept of there being two distinct religious groupings – the blue group who worship the lake and the red group who worship the Mountain, which they believe to be a volcano.’