I have an assignment for you…

Many of my posts have dealt with the Old Forest, Tom Bombadil and the Wights.  I’ve attempted to reveal their nature and reason in Middle Earth.  They are a crucial part of the story.  Yet there is more.  Remember Tolkien was a philogist.  He studied words and language, their permutations and origins.  More than any other author, at least in the fantasy genre, he crafts the language.  Each word is picked with care and specific intent. 

And so I have a challenge for you.  Granted chapters 6-8 seem out of place and hard…but that may be due to the way we as the reader aproach them.  Think for a minute.  Tolkien loved language.  Like a painter, he used words, instead of brushes, tones and strokes.  So pay attention to the WORDS, the LANGUAGE!  This is the key to truly appreciating all Tolkien has to offer; and it is no where more clear than in the chapter “In the House of Tom Bombadil.” 

Here’s what I’d like you to do.  When Tom enters, he sings, he sings throughout his role in the book.  Spend some time on his songs; get a feel for the rhythm of the words.  Then read those chapters (6-8).  Pay particular attention to the passages when Tom is present.  It took me a while to notice, but the same rhythms apply to the entirety of Tolkien’s prose there.  If you truly focus on the words and language, I’m sure you’ll find wonderous artistry.

The beauty of Tolkien’s prose is amazing.  Often it can be difficult to appreciate.  But you have to remember, the story comes from language.  First, from Tolkien’s desire to make a mythology for England.  Secondly, through his growing belief that language creates stories; ie The Silmarillion.  So I challenge you to pay attention when you read.  Appreciate it for more than story and adventure, but for the true artistry of a master-craftsman.  The wonder and power of the work only grows as you delve deeper. 

Reinvestigating the Old Forest, Old Man Willow and Tom Bombadil

These three enigmas are most likely the most controversial figures in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.  They are not immediately approachable.  They are barely comprehensible.  What are they?  Where did they come from?  What are they doing next to the Shire, of all places?  What could Tolkien have been thinking? 

Remember for a minute the nature of the Shire.  Essentially, it is a bourgeois English countryside transplanted into Middle Earth.  It is not explicitly of Middle Earth.  And, most definitely, not of Eriador.  Eriador, at the time of the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, is a very dark and dangerous place.  It is wild.  Life and civilization of any sort can only be found in small, secluded pockets far removed from one another.  So how on earth is this haven of peace and innocence stuck in the middle of it!?  Or rather, how can we, the readers, expect not to find something wholly strange and dangerous beyond the High Hay? 

Think of the Shire as our starting point.  Our reality.  It is little removed from our own world.  The passage of the hobbits into the Old Forest is comparable to the moment when the Pavense’s pass through the wardrobe into Narnia.  Tolkien takes the reader out of the transition space of the Shire and wholly into Middle Earth.

Yet, to begin, the Old Forest appears normal.  It’s a dark and spooky forest.  A place little known, except in myth and legend.  It is odd.  It is different.  But at first, it gives no reason to give us pause.  Except then things begin to move.  The forest reveals its malice and cruel intent.  Suddenly, what once seemed normal becomes alien.  Old Man Willow is the ultimate example of this alienation.  It is beyond us to truly comprehend either.  Yet at the same time, they seem so real.  We’ve all seen knarly, creepy old trees leaning out of the fog.  It is just a short step between that and Old Man Willow. 

Tom Bombadil, the savior of the hobbits, seems odd, yet normal.  Though his mannerisms are strange, Tom is very much like the hobbits.  But, like the Forest, he is one step removed.  He is not of their world.  He is.  He was.  He has some form of power over the land; and the Ring has no hold on him. 

So what does all this mean? 

It’s simple.  It goes back to canned excuse of transition and gives it weight and credence.  Old Man Willow, the Old Forest and Tom Bombadil are transition.  A transition from the realities of the Shire, into those of Middle Earth. 

What’s in a Name?

Tolkien is well known for his careful choice of names in his works.  He made an effort to give them meaning, symbolism and authenticity.  They were built with etymological meaning.  It is hard to think any Tolkien has no name.  And yet there is one: Gollum. 

This name has no true meaning.  It is nothing more than onomatopoeia, mimicking the gurgling cough of Smeagol.  Why would Tolkien do this?  It is obvious to any reader, that he’s not the type to just toss in a name off-hand.  So there must be some meaning to this apparently meaningless title.

An interesting way to look at the origin of Gollum is to think of when it is first used as a name. Smeagol becomes Gollum after taking possession of the Ring. The fact that the name has no meaning is intrinsic to the uniqueness of the character. Gollum, in truth, no longer has meaning. His entire being is wrapped up in the power of the Ring. Essentially he is a shell, he becomes the personification of the Ring’s vices. From this, it is easy to see why Gollum calls himself “My Precious.” He is the Ring, it has consumed him.  The murder of Deagol is more; it is also the “death” of Smeagol. 

His existence becomes consumed by the obsessive need to protect his precious and nurture his hatred.  He begins his ownership of the Ring with murder, theft and treachery.  This is key.  Remember Tolkien’s initial conception of the power of the ring.  It gained dominance over the bearer through his or her wrong-doings.  Essentially, Gollum is nothing more than the host to a pernicious parasite.  He is an embodiment of evil.  In the world of Middle Earth, people avoid naming evil.  Sauron is the “shadow,” the “eye,” his name is anathema.  This can be interpreted in many ways.  The use of the name may draw his attention to the speaker.  OR, evil itself is nameless.

Gollum’s lot becomes a bit clearer when he becomes the guide of Frodo.  For a short time, he is brought back to life by the kindness and pity of Frodo.  Frodo’s insistence upon the use of the name Smeagol grants some level of dignity and respect to Gollum.  He is no longer the “thief,” the “murderer,” or the “sneak.”  He is a person.  No longer just a symbol or embodiment of vice.  For a short time he is Smeagol again.  He is his own, no longer dominated by another entity.  He regains his own name and his own being.  

A “Lord of the Rings Christmas”

About a month ago, I was surfing through some blogs, when a post caught my eye.  The author described a tradition, to read Lord of the Rings during Christmas time.  For some reason, this act put this person into the Christmas spirit, and they found this perplexing.  Well, given some thought, I can’t think of a better holiday to link with LotR than Christmas except, perhaps, Easter.

The Lord of the Rings is a story of Hope.  Middle Earth is a land covered in a growing darkness.  It is a land quickly sinking into a state of apathy and despair.  Yet there is hope.  A small glimmer in the unlikely success of a small hobbit in destroying the Ring.  As I’ve said before, hobbits are essentially our own counterpart within Middle Earth.  They are simple, ordinary people.  They aren’t heroes, kings, wizards or rangers,  but common folk….little people.  Who would ever believe ones such as this could ever save the world?  That someone so mundane and unheroic as Frodo or Sam could rid the world of its greatest evil?  It is a difficult thing to fathom.  Yet we must also remember that eucatastrophe is a key element of Tolkien’s work.  It is not only the sudden awakening of hope or a change in the tide, it is the entrance of grace the events of Middle Earth.  Think of it.  Gandalf says Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, so Frodo was also meant to have it.  Think of the timing.  The coming of the Eagles.  The moment the Ring is destroyed, when all hope is lost.  The saving of Frodo and Sam, after they’ve given themselves up to die.  None of these things are coincidence.  They are the moments when grace shines through, when the reader is briefly able to see the hand of Eru in Middle Earth. 

What greater Eucatastrophe is there on our earth than that of Christmas and Easter?  Christmas, when seen without the gloss that tradition and faith gives it, was a very ordinary event.  A child was born in a stable.  When one stops to think about it, it is an extreemly human and ordinary event.  God works in mysterious ways, working through us, and in us.  God is in the simple things.  Even they may become great.

A quick comment

So, I’m sure by now all of you have heard the news about the fate of The Hobbit;  they’ve finally come to an agreement and we’ll have two movies in a couple of years.  Now does the fact that they are making two movies bother anyone else?  I know for myself, and many I’ve talked to, this is a major matter for concern.  According to the “rumor mills,” the second film will deal with the time between the end of The Hobbit and the beginning of The Lord of the Rings.  Granted, Tolkien wrote quite a bit of back story for this time, with many time lines and shorter tales, but can this constitute an entire film?  I don’t know.  I fear the film makers may use the lack of a concrete story to take control and make up their own story.  And, if you want a doom and gloom tale, if it succeeds as such it would lead to a whole trail of “LotR inspired” movies; because we all know how much Hollywood will do to make money…

I still am waffling over whether having Peter Jackson at the helm is a good thing or not.  Yes, his films were beautifully done.  Yes, they were entertaining.  Yes, they portrayed the basic plot of the books.  BUT…as you probably know by now, hopefully having read my previous posts, Peter Jackson and co. mangled much of Tolkien’s masterpiece to the point where it is no longer recognizable.  I think it is good at least that the vision of Middle Earth and the rigor with which they brought it to life will be continued in the new films.  But I cannot help but be wary of what they may produce; especially given the nature of The Hobbit.  It is a light-hearted book.  It does not have the gravitas and epic weight of LotR.  For this reason, I fear any movie maker will take much more dramatic license with it.  We shall see. 

Of Barrow Wights and Old Man Willow

No other event or character is noticeably absent from The Fellowship of the Ring film than the Barrow Wight and Old Man Willow, with the obvious exception of Tom Bombadil.  Why were they left out?  Or, more importantly, why are they in Middle Earth to begin with?

To start, why were they dropped?  Recall, Tom Bombadil, Old Man Willow and the wight are all transplanted into Middle Earth from a poem Tolkein wrote years before LotR.  In many ways this insertion is glaringly evident.  The entire scenario slows down the plot.  It’s absurd and out of place.  So why did Tolkien include it?

The inclusion of these scenes demonstrates Tolkien’s genius.  Yes, they are odd.  Yes, they don’t quite fit.  But I believe they are  intentionally so.  Their seeming awkwardness makes them stand out.  It gets the reader’s attention; makes him or her want to puzzle out their existence. 

So, what is their reason for being? 

It’s quite simple if we return to Tolkien’s arguments about Tom Bombadil:

“‘The power of the Ring over all concerned, even the Wizards or Emissaries, is not delusion-but it is not the whole picture, even of the then state and content of the Universe.’” (Tolkien, Letter 153, p 192)

It is with Tom, Old Man Willow and the Barrow Wight that Tolkien attempts to show us the whole picture.  All evil is not invested in the Ring.  It is not even beholden to Sauron.  Evil exists.  Certainly Sauron is the greatest evil of the time, but he is not the only evil.  Just because he is the “supreme” evil of the time does not infer that all evil is connected back to him.

There is more to the picture.

Recall Tolkien’s attempts to write the sequel “The New Shadow.”  Here we see again the whole picture.  The destruction of the Ring may destroy Sauron, may kill a branch of evil, but not the tree.  The tree, to use Tolkien’s metaphor, never dies. 

The Old Forest, and the Barrow Downs require the reader to really explore the nature of evil and goodness.  It is not cut and dry.  It has no easy answer.  And so, “‘Not even at the Feast of Felling should the axe be hung up on the wall!’” (Peoples of Middle Earth, Tolkien 411)

Try Me: Creation

Ok Brit, here we go!  I’m going to focus on one particular piece of your question, the Creation of Middle Earth versus the Creation of our own; specifically focusing on some of the mechanisms behind them.

In the Beginning, there was only the One.  Iluvatar created the Ainur in the void, and gave to each of them gifts and talents.  And he lead them in the creation of a great Theme.  This Theme is the creation of Middle Earth in its entirety.  It is very important that Arda is created through music.  For many, and possibly Tolkien as well, music is considered the highest form of prayer.

Yet, more importantly, it is in the Music of the Ainur that the reader first sees the root of the fall.  It is the same sin of our own Creation.  It is the sin that leads to all others: Pride. 

Throughout Tolkien’s universe, he gives unceasing witness to the dangers of pride.  Pride lies at the root of all sin and evil.  Think of Adam and Eve.  God gave them no rules, save one: not to eat of the fruit of the Forbidden Tree.  In eating that fruit, they denied the authority of God, denied His trust and guidance.  In eating of the tree, they asserted that they knew better than God.  And so Man fell.

But to backtrack a bit…

The great Theme was underway, when Melkor thought of ways to better it and turn it to his own desires.  Again, corruption and evil is born of pride.  With each theme, Melkor’s grows in arrogance and bombastic pride, yet the theme of Eru is always the stronger, gently asserting itself in a crowd of turned backs.

The scene is especially touching.  No matter the discord and interruption, the great Theme goes on.  God is always there, asserting His will, often unheard under the bombast, but persistantly, unfailingly there for all who would but listen.

The fall of the Elves is the same, through pride.  Beginning with Feanor and the Noldor, pride takes root.  He denies credit and ownership of the Silmarils to all others.  Out of this pride in his own craft and material possession grows greed, hate and arrogance.  Instead of working with and obeying the Valar, and by extention Iluvatar, the Noldor decide they are more capable on their own.

The same is true of the grey elves, who refused to even pass over the sea to Valinor.  They refused the wisdom of the Valar, in favor of the land they loved.  God calls us to be humble servants of His will.  We need Him in our lives, any claim otherwise is just Pride. 

The pain and sorrows of Middle Earth begin and end in pride. 

Think of Saruman.  He believed he could study the power of the Enemy.  He believed he could enter into the affairs of Middle Earth, and order his life as he wished, forsaking his duty as an Istari.  Where did that lead him?

Think of Denethor.  He denied all sense.  In his despair, he denied hope, and took his own life.  In his pride, he believed if he alone could not defeat the Enemy, no one could.

Think of Earnur.  He denied all knowledge of the Witchking, heeding the insult to his prowess.  He thought himself greater than all others who had already died at the Nazgul’s hand. 

Think of Gollum.  He prided himself in his cleverness, in taking the Ring from Deagol, in finding Frodo and Sam and in his attempts to retake the Ring.  He gives up all else for the Ring, idolizing it.  Where does that lead him?

The list goes on.  But the key factor is that Pride is always at the heart of evil and wrong-doing.  This is true both in Middle Earth and in our own. 

Try Me: The melding of two Worlds

Turin Hurinson asked “What do you make of how the Lord of the Rings is a combination of originally separate worlds of the Hobbit and the Silmarillion? I love Tolkien’s works.  Is it conceivable that he would have been better off keeping them separate, and if not, why was it good that he combined them? It’s true we wouldn’t have LotR if he hadn’t, but I’m sure we would have had something equally impressive set only in the Hobbit world or (more likely) in Beleriand.”

First to start with fact.  I don’t have my copy of The Hobbit with me, so I’ll have to wing it a bit

While in the trenches in France and while recovering in the field hospital during WWI, Tolkien began to write what would become the Quenta Silmarillion.  It was always the work of his heart.  He struggled with it, writing and rewriting it unceasingly throughout his life.  To see its hold on him, one has only to look at his epitaph.  His life, his tales, are one.  The question becomes, then, how could he possibly keep The Hobbit, and subsequently The Lord of the Rings, out of the world of the Silmarillion?

But there is also a flaw in the original question.  The Hobbit is most definitely not in its own isolated world.  It hangs in the balance between the new and the world of Tolkien’s heart.  Granted Hobbits and the Shire are not of Middle Earth, they are more akin to England, but somehow they found their way into the ongoing tale of the Silmarillion.  The Hobbit, in many ways, can be seen as Tolkien’s attempt to reconcile modern English society with Middle Earth.  What would happen if a bourgeois Englishman were suddenly dropped into Middle Earth?  This is the essential question of The Hobbit, and hobbits themselves.  Using the anacronism of hobbit-culture and medieval Middle Earth creates humor as well as a point of familiarity for the reader.  It also sets up an interesting new hero-type; one who is just like us. 

This may be the starting point of The Hobbit, but it still does not touch upon the world it came to inhabit.  Were they ever truly separate?  Possibly.  At least in the beginning.  Yet already Tolkien’s great tale had its hold on him.  It would come to take a larger and deeper role in his writings as he wrote.  With The Hobbit, we begin to see the first shadows of a distant mythical past of Gondolin, High Elves and “Goblin” wars.  To use Tom Shippey’s terminology, it is the first instance of “interlacement.”  The story of Bilbo begins to weave itself into a wider and grimmer one.  This becomes fully developed in The Lord of the Rings. 

Is it a good thing that hobbits found their way into Middle Earth?  As a literary element, yes, but who’s really interested in that?…except maybe the critics and literary intelligencia.  What do the hobbits do for Middle Earth? 

It is important to recall that the Silmarillion, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings were meant to create a new mythology for England.  They are a type of pre-history.  Hobbits are a bridge in that history; between elves and men.  Hobbits are still “mythical.”  They have comparatively long lives.  They can hide unseen and move silently.  They are very practical, full of hobbit-sense.  They act as the transition from the world of Elves to the world of Men.  Yet, even that is a literary device…so what really do the hobbits bring to Middle Earth?

I would have to say, most importantly, the hobbits bring innocence back to Middle Earth.  After the War of the Jewels, the Domination of Sauron and the Fall of Numenor, what innocence is left in the world?  What happiness, untainted by loss, yearning and regret?  Hobbits are the bastion of innocence.  One could even say they are far too innocent. 

In the end, I believe it would have been impossible for Tolkien to avoid the melding of these two worlds.  And looking at the results, I don’t think it could have worked any other way.  Elves and Men needed the innocence of Hobbits, just as the Hobbits needed the sorrow and strength of Men and Elves to ground them.

Respect Life Month

As many of you already know, I am a Christian, specifically, Roman Catholic.  October is Respect Life Month.  

As a Tolkien addict, for many years, until recently, I had no clue that Tolkien had attempted to write a sequel to Lord of the Rings.  Lately, I’ve been reading quite a bit of Tolkien criticism and analysis, and ran across this little tidbit of information.  I can’t say it didn’t intrigue me greatly.  In ordering the History of the Lord of the Rings, I discovered this ”sequel” had been published, within The Peoples of Middle Earth, the last HoME book.  So I read the 20 pages Tolkien had managed to complete before giving up because the book would only be a thriller.  It is called The New Shadow.  It is set after Aragorn’s death, during the reighn of his son, Eldarion.  A plot is brewing to overthrow him.  Mysterious cults sprout.  Children run around playing as Orcs.  

Yet in the end, none of this really impressed me that much.  It was Tolkien’s language, especially the applicability I could bring to them that truly moved me.  A single passage stands out, which is particularly fitting for Respect Life Month. 

“Surely even a boy must understand that fruit is fruit, and it does not reach its full being until it is ripe; so that to misuse it unripe is to do worse than just to rob the man that has tended it: it robs the world, hinders a good thing from fullfillment.  Those who do so join forces with all that is amiss, with the blights and the cankers and the ill winds.  And that is the way of Orcs.” (Tolkien 412-3)

The whole of the writing takes up only ten or so pages.  Yet every page is full of poignant insights and possible applicabilities.  The New Shadow touches upon the heart of evil and its mechanations.  Evil does not just die because its figurehead is gone.  It lurks in the background, ready to rise to the fore when we hang up the axe.  Tolkien’s use of metaphor in this short passage is nothing short of astonishing. 

“Deep indeed run the roots of Evil,” said Borlas, “and the black sap is strong in them.  That tree will never be slain.  Let men hew it as often as they may, it will thrust up shoots again as soon as they turn aside.  Not even at the Feast of Felling should the axe be hung up on the wall!” (Tolkien 411)

Yet another passage rings true to our present world in terms of life and a reverence for our world:

“You spoke of the judgement of trees in these matters.  But trees are not judges.  The children of the One are the masters.  My judgement as one of them you know already.  The evils of the world were not at first in the great Theme, but entered with the discords of Melkor.  Men did not come with these discords; they entered afterwards as a new thing direct from Eru, the One, and therefore they are called His children, and all that was in the Theme they have, for their own good, the right to use–rightly, without pride or wantonness, but with reverence.” (Tolkien 413)

 To continue my earlier remarks about Evil and Orcs, Tolkien has some to say:

“…Orcs did these things at all times; they did harm with delight to all things that could suffer it, and they were restrained only by lack of power, not by either prudence or mercy.” (Tolkien 414)

I recommend reading the New Shadow, if you get the opportunity.  It is extremely interesting, not only in what it implies about the future of Middle Earth, but what it reveals about Tolkien’s own beliefs.

Try Me: Haldir

Haldir only appears in the second book (TT).  He is one of the elves set to guard the northern bounds of Lothlorien.  He guides the Fellowship to Caras Galadhon and, from what I can tell, that is the extent of his role in the book. 

I see two reasons for Peter Jackson to kill off Haldir, one is purely pragmatic, the other symbolic.  Let’s start with the pragmatic reason.  The elves never go to Helm’s Deep in the book.  In the film, notice that apparently no elves survive.  From the point of Haldir’s death, or the retreat to the Hornburg, we never see another elf besides Legolas.  So the reason for Haldir’s death is simple: to avoid all the problems that come with changing the plot.  How would Jackson have been able to explain away an army of elves?  He couldn’t, because they don’t work, they are totally alien to the plot of the book.  So he kills them off.

Ok, well that theory seems a bit cold hearted and depressing!  So let’s look at the possible symbolism of Haldir’s and the elves’ deaths.  What better way is there to show resolve and loyalty than to sacrifice oneself for another?  The elve’s sacrifice demonstrates their resolve to fight evil.  It also reinforces their ”allegience” with men.  Also, it increases the tension and gravity of the scene.  The elves are stronger, faster, better armored, better armed and better trained than men.  They are an army.  If they cannot survive the onslaught of the Uruk-hai, how can the men of Rohan expect to?

Ok, so those are my reasons why Haldir and the elves would die.  Now let me explain why the elves coming to Helm’s Deep in the first place is a horrendous idea.  The Last Alliance is called “last” for a reason!  Also, recall that Lothlorien is attacked three times during the War of the Ring.  Lothlorien would have fallen if troops left to help Rohan.  Remember, the elves are dwindling, both in numbers and power.  It is hard to believe they’d send troops to aid men when they themselves are greatly threatened. 

In their despair and fear of deminishing, the elves begin to pull themselves farther and farther out of the “living world” of Middle Earth, breaking all contacts. It may be, in seeing humans and other races, they see just how far they have fallen. It is very powerful, seeing a race so high and mighty impotent (for the most part)…other than to protect their own realms. It also highlights the strain of interrelationship between races.

ALSO, and this is my biggest point, the elves coming to Helm’s Deep decreases the valour and courage of MEN. The end of the Third age acts as the transition point between the time of Elves/Dwarves, and the time of Men. At Helm’s Deep, we feel the true desperation of being alone in a field of enemies, pitted against foes beyond our strength. And yet, the Rohirrim harden their hearts against fear, to fight on. It is crucial that the defenders be MEN, not Elves. Elves are associated with the mythical, divine, supernatural. It lessens the tension and fear, because their prowess seems so great. In the book, the presence of the Heroic is easier seen: Theoden’s ride, Aragorn, Eomer, Gimli, Legolas…they all stand above the rest. In the film, they are set within an army of elves…much their equals (or betters, if they retain the skills seen in the Last Alliance). To me, it just doesn’t work at all. It ruins the tone and fear of the moment. It ruins the final eucatastrophe of the coming of Erkenbrand and Gandalf.