As today is Easter, and we’ve passed through Good Friday and Holy Saturday, this put me in a particular frame of mind which I found perfectly suited for reading “Fog on the Barrow-Downs.” There is such wonderful symbolism that can be applied to this chapter. Whether it was ever the intent of Tolkien in writing it, I don’t know, but this chapter literally sings of Resurrection.

The hobbits are tricked and trapped by the wight in its barrow-mound. There, Sam, Merry, and Pippin fall into a death-like trance. Frodo is miraculously awake and sings for their salvation: Tom Bombadil. His coming reverberates through the land, making it seem the very ground is singing. And with “a loud rumbling sound, as of stones rolling and falling, and suddenly light streamed in, real light, the plain light of day” the tomb was opened. For me, at this time of year there can be no greater symbolism than this, the opening of the tomb and the entrance of light. This is but one small moment of eucatastrophe, in which both Tom and Frodo act as the instruments of Grace.

It is also a moment of rebirth. The hobbits are awakened from their sleep and marvel at the cleanness of the grass, the brightness of the sun. Finding themselves clothed in burial robes and girt in gold chains, they cast of the raiment of death and run naked on the grass. They are reborn to the joy of living and breathing in the world. The casting off of their clothes I found particularly significant. During the Stations of the Cross, the tenth station: Jesus is stripped of His garments is almost always paired with the words of the prophet Job: “Naked I came forth from my mother’s womb and naked shall I go back again.”

The hobbits were dressed in the clothes of death by the wight, in stripping themselves of these garments they reclaim their life. They are, in a sense, reborn.

There is one other Biblical application that jumped out at me reading today. As usual, I return to the question of the nature of Tom Bombadil. As yet I, nor anyone else excepting perhaps Tolkien himself, know who he is supposed to be or what. But reading today, I found a new link that I found quite appealing. It came as Tom named the hobbits’ ponies, which the narrative told they would answer to the rest of their lives. Naming is a powerful thing and this episode bears great resemblance to the naming of the creatures of the land, sea and air in Genesis. So perhaps Tom can be interpreted as a sort of Adam figure in Middle Earth. Maybe even the Adam who never fell from Grace.

But what is courage? Is it only a personality trait; a description of the nature of one’s actions? That seems a bit too simplistic, and I think “Fog on the Barrow-Downs” has something very powerful to say about the full meaning of having courage. Courage is not a simple word, a noun, an adjective about a person. It is not just a concept, a passive tag to identify what we do. In some ways it is a being unto itself, and ultimately boils down to one word: obligation.

When trapped by the Barrow-Wight, Frodo feels the intense draw of the Ring; it wants to escape and return to its master. It cannot be trapped and incorporated into the Wight’s horde. And so it puts tremendous pressure on Frodo to place the ring on his finger and escape. Now it can be argued that this is nothing to do with the ring and everything to do with Frodo’s fear. But I think his attempts to rationalize this potential action and his compulsive groping for the ring are evidence that the ring is very much active in Frodo’s thoughts and judgment.

One thing and one thing only pulls Frodo out of this temptation: courage. Courage is not about lack of fear or surmounting it. It is about obligation; knowing what is right and though the consequences and obstacles may be difficult and fearful, doing it anyways. And so, though disoriented and weak from his contact with the wight, Frodo strikes back, cuts off the wight’s hand and sings for Tom Bombadil.

But then there’s Old Man Willow, who Tom says is “a mighty singer.” Here the similarities, obviously, fail. Yet there still remains the truth that there is some mysterious power in song, and that power is infectious, as is seen in the hobbits.

Before going to bed, Goldberry gives the hobbits this warning:
“Heed no nightly noises! For nothing passes door and window here save moonlight and starlight and the wind off the hill-top.”

When the hobbits go to sleep that night, Frodo, Pippin and Merry dream. They dream vivid, terrifying dreams of such vividness that they are compelled to search for truth in them upon waking. All three dreams devolve into nightmarish fantasy, usually focusing on past horrors.

Yet there is one unique dream: that of Frodo. His dream, at least at first, is a true dream. We and he don’t know it yet, but he is seeing Gandalf’s escape from Isengard, which occured eight days prior to the night at Bombadil’s house. In all cases then, the hobbits see the past in some manner. Yet Frodo’s is the true past. Why?

There are two possiblities: either it is the effect of the Ring’s power or it is the effect of grace or eucatastrophe. Either works, but it is evident that another power is at work.

In preparing this post I had another thought I found to be quite intriguing. Only the hobbits who were affected by Old Man Willow dream. Sam did not. Sam fought off the effects of Old Man Willow’s singing and remained free of his power. Frodo, Pippin and Merry all fell asleep under his song and succumbed to his mechanations. And recall, Tom Bombadil admitted Old Man Willow is a mighty singer. It may be a slight stretch, but could the dreams have originated from Old Man Willow? It also seems suspect that Goldberry and Tom knew they would dream and have nightmares. Does this indicate some lasting hold of the Willow’s or just the haunted aura of the Old Forest and the Barrow Downs?

My first impression of the Old Forest was very surreal, and downright creepy.  With this chapter, the reader is almost immediately confronted by strangeness, and Tolkien’s imagery here, though a bit on the disturbing side, is very effective.  The journey doesn’t start auspisciously, “Soon they were riding off into the mist, which seemed to open reluctantly before them and close forbiddingly behind…”  Not a happy way the start a day is it?  And it only gets worse.  The tunnel through the High Hay is “dark and damp” with a gate of iron bars.  There’s a certain ring of finality and dread the entire passage of the hobbits’ leave-taking of the Shire in the closing of that gate.

And then there’s Merry’s description.  Granted there is description and imagery as the hobbits traverse the forest, but I found this one paragraph the most powerful and evocative:

“But the Forest is queer.  Everything in it is very much more alive, more aware of what is going on, so to speak, than things are in the Shire.  And the trees do not like strangers.  They watch you.  They are usually content usually to watch you, as long as daylight lasts, and don’t do much.  Occasionally the most unfriendly ones may drop a brand, or stick a root out, or grasp at you with a long trailer.  But at night things can be more alarming, or so I am told.  I have only once or twice been in here after dark, and then only near the hedge.  I thought all the trees were whispering and the branches swayed and groped without any wind.  They do say the trees do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them in.  In fact long ago they attacked the Hedge: they came and planted themselves right by it, and leaned over it…” (FotR p108)

There is just something so otherworldly about this entire chapter which is so well captured in this one passage.  We go from the peace and natural beauty into this place where nature becomes dark and gloomy…and downright crafty.  It is a shock, immediate and brutal.  And in some ways begs the question: how are we to stomach this? 

Well, we aren’t dropped in completely unawares.  There were hints dropped in Sam and Ted’s conversation earlier in the book of walking trees.  And there is the hobbits’ complete lack of knowledge of the outside world to consider.  But in the end, I was most drawn to the foreshadowing of this chapter.  It is full of references immediately recognizable to re-readers who keep an eye out.  I don’t know how well the ents and the huorns were established in Tolkien’s thought at this time, but it would appear that in the Old Forest we get our first glimpse of their development, at least in how they pertain to Middle Earth during the Third Age.  This whole scenario runs parallel with the entry to Fangorn and the meeting of Treebeard; and shows great similarities with the huorns and the “dark” places of Fangorn.  Treebeard’s lament about the ents was ever on my mind reading this chapter: that many ents had become too sleepy and so like trees and many trees too awake like ents. 

To return to my discussion of imagery, as the chapter continues, the descriptions become gradually darker and more threatening.  Yet the forest has some tricks up its sleeve (or should I say branch).  Notice the transition in tone from the forest to the Withywindle River valley.  Suddenly there is color, openness, peace.  Or so it seems.  I hadn’t picked up on this before, its subtle, but upon rereading this shift becomes loaded with meaning. 

By this false sense of the security the Hobbits are lulled to a stop, to sleep against a hoary old tree.  Only to be hurled in the water, or sucked into it’s shadowy depths.  And even then there is a sense of calm and lassitude, for the hobbits, besides Sam, remain asleep throughout.  This only heightens the strangeness and horror of the event. 

The strangeness also acts as a barrier, however.  It makes the entire adventure hard to believe and out of this world.  And so I never found this threat to the hobbits to be overly threatening, but rather miner.  The barrow wights to come were always more successful.  Upon this reread, I felt an almost palpable sense of relief at the entry of Tom Bombadil.  Not for his role in saving the hobbits, but for his apparent normalcy.  He is a return, more or less, to the sort of person we know.  He is there the draw us out of this surreal nightmare which is the Old Forest. 

And so I’ve returned to question that has haunted so many who read The Lord of the Rings: why the Old Forest, why Old Man Willow, why Tom Bombadil? 

We are used to our world and its close shadow, which is the Shire.  But at the High Hay we enter with tentative steps more firmly into the secondary world of Tolkien’s creation.  We are thrust straight into the strangeness of it; not necessarily with the expectation of our belief in this moment but with thoughts turned towards our future belief.  Have you ever noticed that to a certain degree everything that follows is easier to swallow after the Old Forest?  I hadn’t, but I think that’s part of the point.  By placing this den of strangeness right at the start of his tale, I believe Tolkien has found a way to aid his readers in believing his tale. It is an abrupt wake up call to all readers: we are far from home.

To Trust (verb): to permit to remain or go somewhere or to do something without fear of consequences

What does it mean to trust someone?  And is trust healthy?  Can it be in error, yet this still be a possitive outcome? 

These three questions are at the core of “A Conspiracy Unmasked.”  Frodo’s idea of trust follows the definition of the verb above.  He expects to be let alone to follow his own path and keep his own secrets.  His trust is a personal trust; that of one who feels responsible and unwilling to draw others into his misfortune.  His trust is the trust of non-interferance, not the true trust of friendship. 

The conspiracy, however, embodies the noun of trust.  Friends are entrusted with the care of each other.  To look after one another and support each other in all circumstances.  Though misguided, Frodo in large part also follows this definition.  He believes he is caring for the safety and innocence of his friends by keeping them in the dark and preventing them from joining him.  The conspiracy’s spying on Frodo is a literal betrayal of Frodo’s trust, a betrayal of his privacy and an accusation against his ability to care for himself.  This may seem a great betrayal, a sign of an utter lack of trust, but it is not.  It is the firm espousal of Friendly Trust, which closely relates to the noun’s definition. 

It is a grey area.   But I think one of the main points of this chapter is to reveal the nature of true friendship.  Not passing friendships and acquaintances, but true life-long friendships.  In these, part of the role of the friend is to look out for the other, even if that means guarding them from themself.   This is a truth that even Frodo comes to realize, which is evident in his quick and unresisting acceptance of Pippin and Merry into his quest. 

This is a pivotal moment in the book in terms of characterization.  Here we see the true depth of friendship and love between the four (five including Fatty) hobbits and the lengths they will go to look out for one another.  And this is before any of the character growth at the core of the tale!  It also is great evidence of the real cunning and intelligence of hobbits, if they choose to use it.  Up until this point intelligence was a largely ignored or even scorned aspect of hobbit life.  One has only to think of how the hobbits thought of Bilbo. 

I’d like to use this opportunity to compare this vignette to the moment of meeting in the film adaption.  In the film Merry and Pippin appear out of nowhere, run into Frodo and Sam, fall down a cliff and almost a split second later decide to go with Frodo.  From the long expected party we get a pair of miscreants, and pretty stupid/immature ones at that.  The only purpose I can see here is speed, nothing else can be gained here.  Instead, a great jewel of characterisation is lost and cast aside.

Then there’s Farmer Maggot.  For a long time his character has perplexed me.  As I’ve stated before, he acts as one of the first Guardians for the hobbits.  He also acts as the window into the typical hobbit family, life and society.  What is shocking about Maggot, however, is how he deals with the Black Rider.  He stands up to it and even goes to far as to threaten it!  What is more, upon finding that the Black Riders are a true threat to Frodo and company he offers his help in their journey as well as his continued aid in fooling the Black Riders of Frodo’s whereabouts.  Hobbits can be strong-willed and courageous in a pinch, but it usually takes a lot to draw something like this out of them.  One has only to think of Bilbo in The Hobbit or the Shire at the end of LotR for example.  So what makes Maggot special?  He is the paradigm of what it means to be a hobbit.  He’s a farmer who likes his food.  He has a large family.  He likes to gossip.  So how is he different? 

Well, for one thing, he’s shrewd.  He was able to guess the purpose of the Riders with no hints or guesses and come extremely close to the mark.  And while it may have been courageous on his part to stand up to the Rider in his lane, much of that was most like bluff and bluster.  I think this is revealed in large part by the anecdotes told by Frodo of his past relations with Farmer Maggot, as well as Pippins comments regarding his character.  However, Maggot’s actions also reveal the true mettle of hobbits.  They will stand up for themselves and others of their kind against any and all outsiders.  There is also the fact that Bombadil seems to know Farmer Maggot or at least know of him. 

In the end, who Farmer Maggot is and what he does is not that important.  What he reveals about the nature of the Shire and Hobbits is.  And this is what Tolkien does by taking a “shortcut.”  As Pippin says “Shortcuts lead to long delays,” and this is a device Tolkien uses over and over in order to reveal information to the reader without needing to stop the plot or rely on exposition.  There are many shortcuts used in The Lord of the Rings.  Three stand out the most: Moria, Cirith Ungol and the Paths of the Dead.  The Shortcut to the Mushrooms is just the first in a series of trips of discovery.  Each of these supposed shortcuts reveals something; about the characters, about Middle Earth, or the nature of their quest and the evils of the world.

The hobbit’s shortcut in this chapter is not so important.  It does, however, run in almost direct parallel to the shortcut through the Old Forest.  Here we see the hobbits encounter normal problems, in a “normal” setting much like our own world.  Here they attempt to do the unexpected by leaving the road.  They try to cut across country, only to have nature turn them aside.  And in the end they are saved by a guardian. 

As discussed previously, the Lord of the Rings is a story of growth.  Their challenges and the stature of their guardians reflect this.  It also works to immerse the reader in Middle Earth.  It is akin to testing the waters by dipping in a toe, or wading before diving in.  That is the trek between Hobbiton and Bucklebury.  With the hobbits, we readers are slowly being guided away from the known and comfortable into the blank parts of the map.

The show lists precedent after precedent as the true source for the Ring, Gandalf, the Hobbit and many elements of Tolkien’s writing. While it is true that Tolkien read, taught, and was inspired by these works this by no means implies a one to one relationship. The one saving grace here was an aside, by one of their experts: Tolkien had the unique ability to combine elements of pagan and Christian mythology.

One example of “Clash’s” narrow interpretation is the orcs. They claim the orcs are representative of capitalism. Yes, it fits…but it is too narrow a focus. There are no one to ones in Tolkien. Or if so, it is not quite so specific. Tolkien was suspicious of most technology and industry, seeing how they came to dominate the landscape and destroy natural England. Orcs are the embodiment of those who delight in machines and wanton destruction. They represent the evils of Modernity, no matter the economic or political credo.  Yet this is just one interpretation I see (see Evil or Not), one application.  The wonder of LotR, and its staying power, lies in its use of applicability in place of allegory.  The opinions of “Clash” are valid, but they are mere applications, not the source or the meaning.  Herein lies the power.  In place of the all-powerful author, controlling meaning and intent, we have the all powerful reader, free to find numerous and unique meanings upon each reading and each time.  I understand the desire to interpret and condense, but the lack of any mention of applicability, (but the very noticeable mention of allegory a few times) is troublesome…when the author went to such pains to express his ideology within the pages of the book itself! 

Through all the discussion of source materials, they never mention the true impetus of the story and the reason Tolkien actually admits: language. Very little time is spent on Tolkien’s invention of language, which he claimed is the progenitor of all myth. The Silmarillion and his subsequent writings, all stem from Tolkien’s creation of elvish. He not only desired an English mythology, but to discover the world of his languages.

In the end the biggest flaw is one so crucial to an understanding of Tolkien, and his understanding of Christian providence, that I cannot believe it was never mentioned. Not only that, but it was blatantly ignored! This concept is eucatastrophe; the sudden entrance of Grace, which saves all from despair. In the show, they remark on how “contrary to his Christian beliefs” it is that Frodo does not conquer the Ring and destroy it…that he does not succeed. That a “good” character succumbs, and the “evil” (Gollum) succeeds in his place through evil designs. This is blatantly wrong. Tolkien believed in Eucatastrophe, taking his cues from the greatest moment of Eucatastrophe in history: the Crucifixion and Resurrection of our Lord. This  moment in the narrative depicts Man’s reliance on providence. Gollum succeeds in regaining the Ring. He accidentally falls into the Cracks of Doom. The destruction of the Ring is no success on any character’s part, it is apparent chance; miracle. And this is central to both Tolkien’s myth-making and theology.

representational art… is quite in harmony with the history of the spread of the gospel…are to be exposed in the holy churches of God…The more frequently they are seen in representational art, the more are those who see them drawn to remember and long for those who serve as models

Art was the primary teacher of the Gospels to a mostly illiterate population.  Springing from this role of church as teacher, comes the development of the anagogical effect of architecture: that which evokes the sensation of the sublime and the presence of God in the visitor.  This effect was largely pursued throughout the Medieval period through the use of proportion, shape and number.

I don’t know if Tolkien knew of any of this architectural or ideological history, but it does fit into Middle Earth.  Tolkien lays out Minas Tirith in great detail.  He is very specific.  It consists of seven concentric circles.  The number seven has two major meanings in the Christian worldview: the days of Creation and the seven wounds or sorrows of Mary.  From pagan mythology, there is also the seven-ringed layout of the city of Atlantis.  However, in this case I believe Tolkien knew of the significance of these “sacred” numbers through his Catholic faith.  The use of the circle is up for grabs.  Tolkien is known for his deft twining of both Christian and pagan symbols, the circle may be one such case.  The circle represents eternity and the oneness of God. 

Minas Tirith has become the capital of Gondor through the turmoil of the past.  It has become the “mother” of the nation.  It is its center, its caretaker.  It is also the nation’s one hope for renewal and rebirth.  The city is the home for the hoped for ‘return of the king.’  It is both a monument to the past, its glories and its failings, and to its future hope to return.  Just as Mary brought hope into the world through Jesus Christ, so Minas Tirith is also the source of hope and succor in Middle Earth.

There are subtle hints within the throne room itself.  Here we can see the kings of Gondor taking the place of Christian theology, teaching the supplicant the history of the Kingdom of Gondor through the use of art and staging.  Between columns to either side, stand the kings of Gondor’s past, an episodic timeline of Gondor’s development.  The steward’s throne on the lower step, while the king’s throne lies empty above, sets in stone the political hierarchy.  Both rule, both are part of the same dias, yet the king remains foremost.  And the throne, crowned overhead by a canopy reminiscent of Tuor’s helm.  Each element is steeped in history, and expectation.

How does Frodo know to leave the road?

Now if we return to the book, initially Sam hears a horse or a pony coming up the road behind them.  Frodo wonders if it might be Gandalf, finally catching up with them.  Yet a nagging suspiscion tells him it is not and that he should hide from whoever comes.  He claims “I would rather not be seen on the road-by anyone.  I am sick of my doings being noticed and disscussed.”  Even as this desire to hide overwealms him, curiousity blooms in him as well. 

How much of this is natural emotion?  How much of this is the Ring’s meddling?

Gandalf once explained to Frodo that the Ring gives power to the bearer according to his stature.  Is this an example of the Ring  being bent to Frodo’s will or Frodo being bent to the Ring’s will?  In the first suposition, the Ring allows Frodo to sense danger to himself; a warning of a threat.  In the second suposition, the fear is just Frodo’s nerves, and the curiousity the work of the Ring to allow it to be found. 

In this encounter, and worse in the second, the Ring’s power, or the aura of the wraith, impose on Frodo enormous pressure to put on the Ring.  Is it the Ring?  Or is the Wraith?  The Ring was created by Sauron to control all others.  The Ringwraiths are in Sauron’s power.  The Ring calls to them, being a depository of Sauron’s power.  Or, in the opposing viewpoint, as the wraiths are servent’s of Sauron, they are calling to the Ring, they are drawn to its presence. 

The second time the hobbits run into a wraith, Frodo purposefully hides close to the road, in little cover, so as to get a close look at the wraith.  Yet, is this just strong curiousity, or some insidious influence of the Ring.  In this instance, the shadows are not enough.  Frodo is almost found.  Only the passing elves save him.

In both encounters, some deep instinct instills in Frodo the desire to hide.  Instinctually, he knows danger comes with little physical evidence.  This appears to be a manifestation of Frodo’s power through the Ring.  On some level, and this is more obviously true as the narrative continues, Frodo is able to control and command the power of the Ring.  The question is if this is the first manifestation.

You must remember the nature of hobbits: they love comfort and all things that grow.  Even Frodo states this reason.  When Fall comes, and nature fades the desire to travel comes upon him. 

There is also the skepticism of the hobbits to consider, which I have already discussed in “Shadows of the Truth.”  For a person who finds it hard to accept new information and believe in anything beyond the bubble of their own civilization, how would the revelation of the Ring sound?  It would seem utter maddness.  Think on this.  How would you react if you discovered some family heirloom was dangerous or must be destroyed or relinquished in order to save or help others.  Would you do it?  Or would you, like Frodo, put it off for as long as you could?  It is human, and in effect hobbit, nature to do so.  If something is beatiful, or pleasurable or in any way rewarding it is difficult and traumatic to be forced to give it up.  This is the danger and allure of the material world.

Finally, we have the Ring to consider. 

Frodo’s plan to leave the Shire by way of Buckland is not fully formed until mid-summer.  Remember the nature of the Ring’s power as proposed in the early drafts: it works through the wearer’s longings.  Could it be the Ring manipulates Frodo’s desire to remain in the Shire to keep him from leaving?  This hypothesis works under the suposition that the Ring is sentient, and in some way aware of the approaching Ringwraiths.  Yet if this were true, wouldn’t it have kept him there longer?  Even a day more and the wraiths would have found him. 

Why does Frodo wait?  There can be no conclusive answer.  Yet it would appear the reasons are out of fear and reluctance to leave home.  So who can blame him?  Who does not cling to life and happiness and peace when they know it is soon to be lost?