Almost the End

Our fall schedule – the beginning of school, increased work-load, and re-start of some ministry work – has been keeping me hopping. Although I’ve been silent here on the blog, to the point that I think I am 31 days behind in my attempt to post daily, we have not stopped reading!

In fact, it’s looking as though both Lord of the Rings and summer are going to reach their official end around the same time. We have only two chapters left in LOTR, though the Scouring of the Shire (which we begin tonight) will no doubt take us two evenings at least. Then comes The Grey Havens and a lot of tears. (At least on my part. No one else in the family cries over books, though S. is already lamenting having to leave Middle-earth.)

After that, S. is hopeful that we can tackle some of the Appendices. She’s not sure she wants to hear every detail or not (I told her the stuff on languages, while fascinating, can get quite detailed!) but she does want to hear at least some of them, which makes my heart happy. I told her that epilogue-ish type material ended up there, including information on what happens later to some of our most beloved characters. She’s always liked epilogues (me too) and she definitely wants to hear those parts and perhaps some of the earlier history too. We’ve already delved a bit into the timeline, at least the part of it pertaining to the narrative in LOTR.

As a side companion to our family reading, I’ve been reading Fleming Rutledge’s excellent book The Battle for Middle-earth, which I just finished a couple of days ago. It is a beautiful theological commentary on LOTR, perhaps my favorite secondary reading on the books ever. Reading her made me want to turn to Tolkien’s Letters, which I think I dipped into originally years ago, and I got those on the hold shelf at the library today.

I’m still hoping to do a few more posts here to wrap up our read-aloud project. If you’ve stayed with me all this time, bless you!

Where We Are in the Reading...

Vacation followed by another unplanned trip to help D's mother (who has been ill) has slowed my posting here, but late summer activity has not slowed our reading! We finished up The Two Towers last week and are four chapters into The Return of the King.

We got that far because we did a lot of reading in the car. S. is finding the story of the war against Mordor a little harder-going than some of the earlier reading, mostly because she is impatient to return to Sam and Frodo's story. These early chapters are thick too -- not just long, but heavy with descriptions and battles. (So many Orcs! They must be Peter Jackson's favorites scenes.)

I'm hoping to do a catch-up post soon.

Days Fifty-Five and Fifty-Six: The Dead Marshes

We begin to realize how sick the land of Mordor is within chapter 2 of book IV. Frodo, Sam, and Gollum walk, march, crawl, climb, and do whatever is necessary to keep moving toward the distant black mountains, with Gollum (who knows the way) in the lead. This arrangement isn’t a relaxing one for any of them, and Sam is especially wary, worried that one day he and Frodo are going to both fall asleep at the same time and end up dinner for their twisted companion-guide. Frodo, who made Gollum swear by the ring (by it, not on it, as he is too wise to let Gollum have even a look at it) doesn’t believe Gollum would be that treacherous, but he doesn’t trust him either.

The Dead Marshes are both dead in the sense that little or nothing can grow there (Tolkien’s sense of evil leading to environmental devastation continues to be a clear theme, and one that feels hugely informed by his battlefield experiences in WWI) and because they are literally filled with the dead. Sam is horrified to discover that dead faces lurk beneath the waters of the marshes, the corpses lit by candles, as though the whole place was some strange natural morgue. The surreal landscape exhibits an odd, dream-like sort of lure on travelers, trying to bring them down to the underworld, and Frodo seems highly susceptible to that lure, struggling not to look at the lights.

S. immediately thought of the “inferi” in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (remember the cave scene with Dumbledore) and she kept spotting other JKR debts to Tolkien as we went forward, including the fact that Frodo wears the ring on a chain around his neck and feels it as a heavy weight, the closer they get to Mordor and its master. “It’s like the horcrux locket!” she cried. If anyone ever had any doubt that JKR knows and loves Tolkien, step right this way…Rowling is clearly stirring in the same story-cauldron.

Poor Frodo. He is such a strong but gentle soul, and we begin to feel the burden with him as he labors on to what he believes is almost certain destruction, determined to keep faith with those who tasked him with this impossible quest. It’s horrifying to realize just how pinned down he feels by “the Eye.” He knows that Sauron is always looking, looking for the Ring. Gollum feels it too, Tolkien tells us, having borne the Ring for such a long time himself. He may not feel it to the extent that Frodo feels it, but so much of Mordor’s darkness is already a part of Gollum that we want to weep for him. 

Sam alone is oblivious to the full weight of Mordor’s darkness, though he feels enough of it to realize what it’s doing to his beloved master Frodo. I am always so thankful for Sam: ordinary, hearty, stubborn, practical, and able to “stay on task” in a way that Frodo, bearing the full burden, can’t. You somehow get the sense that Sam is protected from the evil around him, not just by the simplicity and loyalty of his heart, but because he is able to think about the small things that have to be done, like finding food and watching Gollum and making sure that Frodo stays on his feet or gets some rest.

The chapter ends with the bizarre conversation that Gollum/Smeagol has with himself, arguing over whether or not to betray the hobbits and steal back his “precious,” or whether to remain loyal. We get a hint that there’s an ominous but unknown to us female figure who might factor into any betrayal. It’s a brilliant bit of story-telling and characterization and fascinating to read aloud. I enjoyed switching off the different voices that I use for his two personas, though the Gollum one is so deep and raspy it hurts my throat if I use it for long.

Days Fifty-Three and Fifty-Four: Sam, Frodo…and Smeagol

S. was so excited when the narrative returned to Sam and Frodo, in chapter one of book IV, the second book of The Two Towers. “I missed them,” she declared. When I told her that we would stay with them throughout this book, she was glad to hear it, though she admitted she will likely be missing “Aragorn and company,” (as she now refers to the rest of the companions) before we got to the end of the book.

Tolkien’s narrative strategy really is interesting in this middle section of his epic. After staying with Frodo and his companions for all of Fellowship, he naturally spins them out in different directions when the Fellowship breaks. Then instead of inter-cutting or weaving together the stories of all the “groups,” he gives us great swathes of time with one group or the other. That means when he does return to another set, we often backtrack quite a bit in time.

It’s a little startling, for instance, when we first pick back up with Sam and Frodo, to discover that they are only three days out in their wanderings. For them, the events of the breaking of the Fellowship are still fresh, while for us, having lived through long treks in the wilderness chasing Orcs, long marches in the forest with Ents, and a prolonged battle at Helm’s Deep, those events have started to fade. There’s something authentic feeling about this kind of story-telling though, as we sense through the layers that these events really are taking place at the same time – we just can’t train our eyes on more than one of them at once.

The doings of Sam and Frodo feel small, lonely, and bleak compared to the dramas of the others, but it’s that spareness and loneliness that reminds us their secret task is the most daunting and important of all. As S. says, only Tolkien could spend half a long chapter just getting two characters down a rock ledge. They have to use Sam’s silky grey rope from Lorien – and it’s a good thing they have it. Its magical properties enable them not only to use it, but to keep it, when it would seem that they would need to leave it behind. The mysterious “footpad” following them needs no such rope, as he can climb spider-like down the cliff wall.

Of course his identity is not really so mysterious, as they’ve known since Moria that Gollum has been following them – or more to the point, following his “precious.” He finally catches up to them and Sam jumps him as lands at the bottom of the cliff. Their ensuing tussle, in which Gollum/Smeagol uses his wiry strength to fight sturdy Sam and ends up biting the hobbit in the shoulder, does not bode well for their future relationship. Frodo, however, is prepared to be lenient and gentle with Gollum, if only for the sake of a conversation he once had (and now remembers clearly) with Gandalf. At that time, Gandalf told him that it was pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand long ago in the cave, when he might have killed Gollum. Seeing him now, Frodo feels deep pity for the creature too.

I said Gollum/Smeagol above because this is the part of the story where we get to know the deeply “split” nature of the poor creature who has been enslaved by the Ring for so many years. The Gollum part of his nature is the grasping, slavering, cringing, fearful part of him. JRRT describes him in ways that call to mind an abused dog who knows that his ultimate master (Sauron) is terrifying. Gollum is a conniving survivor, at whatever cost. The Smeagol part of his nature is the deeply buried part of him who still remembers better things in himself and others. Frodo will continually try to appeal to that part of him, hard as it is to reach.

Days Forty-Two to Fifty-Two: Friends Well-Met, Battles Well-Fought, and the Taking of Isengard

We spent eleven days moving on through the rest of book III, the first half of The Two Towers. S. was delighted to discover that “The White Rider” of chapter 5 was none other than Gandalf, miraculously back from his battle beneath the earth with the Balrog. I never get over my delight in that either, no matter how many times I re-read LOTR. I always feel like I breathe easier when Gandalf is back.

The Men of Rohan are not so sure about Gandalf and his intentions. They call him “Gandalf Stormcrow” and say that his presence among them does not bode well, that he is always riding just ahead of the storm. Of course, they and their King, Theoden, have been listening long to the insidiously evil words of Grima, otherwise known as Wormtongue (“sort of like Wormtail!” S. cried, immediately recognizing one of JKR’s literary debts). It takes Gandalf coming among them again, now Gandalf the White, to wake their king from the kind of evil dream he’s been mired in since Grima became his counselor. It’s wonderful to see Theoden reawaken to life and truth and hope, and to see Grima unmasked for what he really is.

It’s also wonderful that two-thirds of the original Fellowship is now back together. Boromir is dead, and Sam and Frodo have passed out of the help of the others for now, but the other six finally gather together in Isengard, where Gandalf rides with the Rohirrim. What Tolkien doesn’t tell us right away (though he hints at it early, and then unpacks more fully later) is that Gandalf has already come across Merry, Pippin, and the Ents. In fact, the whole reason Gandalf is willing to ride toward Isengard, Saruman’s stronghold, is because he knows the Ents have been busy there.

Before we get there, however, we stop for the Battle of Helm’s Deep. This is one of those places in the narrative where I find myself influenced by the visuals of the Peter Jackson films, whose digital magic invests Helm’s Deep with thousands upon thousands of what JRRT might term fell warriors. Although I think Jackson overdoes it here (as elsewhere) you can at least understand how he was inspired to make this such an epic battle. There do seem to be Orcs and evil men everywhere, climbing the walls and laying siege to the deep. The men of Rohan and our other heroes are hard pressed before they manage to win the day, with the help of some Huorns (living trees). Gimli lops the heads off of forty-two Orcs before all is said and done, and Legolas kills almost as many with his bow.

Battle just seems to draw the two of them into closer friendship than ever. By the time book III is done, they will have made a promise to go together to a place each longs to see if they actually survive the ongoing war. Legolas longs to see the beauty of Fangorn, which they must hurry by on their way to Isengard, and Gimli is so moved by the brief glimpses he has of the caverns of Helm’s Deep that he waxes eloquent for a whole page. I tend to read Gimli with a very gruff tone (trying to keep in mind that he’s a softie at heart) and I found this page taxing, since Gimli is prone to growling out good one-liners. I loved him for it though. One of my favorite elements of Gimli’s character is how his rough exterior belies an extraordinarily sensitive response to beauty wherever he truly sees it – whether that’s in unexpected places like Lothlorien, where no dwarves go, or the familiar dwarvish depths of caverns.

Getting back to Merry and Pippin made my heart sing. They bring such light and levity even to grave proceedings – hobbits have a way of doing that, just by being their ordinary selves. I love the picture Tolkien gives us of the two of them lying with their arms behind their heads, smoking pipeweed on the “edge of ruin” – they sit and take their ease even with the destruction of Isengard all around them, the Ents still busy un-damming rivers and streams, and Saruman holed up like a rat in a trap. The chapter where they serve breakfast (or second breakfast) to Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas is one of my favorites. The three elder companions are thankful to have found their little friends again, and astonished, I think, by how much they’ve grown – literally (those Ent-draughts are powerful!) and figuratively.

From a read-aloud point of view, I liked getting back to Merry and Pippin’s voices. Which leads me to wonder: how do you read your hobbits? My Frodo voice is high and calm, ethereal. I always picture Frodo thinking deep, high thoughts, even while doing something ordinary like washing dishes. My Sam voice is folksy, quick, and a touch anxious. I read Merry in a typically cheerful voice, measured and even – he tends to pace his words carefully, as though weighing them a bit before speaking them out loud. Pippin’s prone to outbursts – I read him even quicker than Sam, a tad impatient, and even sometimes whiny. I think of the four hobbits, he’s closer to adolescent insecurity.

Will all these heroic folks, big and small, survive? It’s a near thing at Isengard. Saruman still has enough power left that he almost sways his listeners with his persuasive voice. He’s backed into a corner though, and his quick about-faces when faced with different responses and pressures shows his true colors. I’m reminded of JKR again, and how her boggarts are disarmed when they face a whole room full of people because they don’t know what to shape-shift into next, what form to take to try to frighten the ones they face. Saruman is like that here – you can practically sense him thinking, “do I play powerful wizard offering counsel? kindly but defeated old man in need of help?” etc. Theoden shows surprising strength in seeing through Saruman’s guises, and Gandalf does as well, finally unmasking him in front of all

Pippin’s brush with the Palantir is important: it adds suspense to these final scenes in book III, it helps us know how Saruman and Sauron have been communicating (no walkie-talkies or tin cans on strings for these two!) and it sets up the separation of Pippin from Merry, since Gandalf decides to take Pippin when he rides on to Gondor. More growth is ahead for both of these gentle hobbits, but before we can learn about that, we need to turn back to Sam and Frodo. Which we do, with book IV.

Days Thirty-Five to Forty-One: We Begin The Two Towers

As I turn to post about our first week reading The Two Towers, I find myself thinking about the physical books themselves. I don’t think I’ve mentioned here that we are doing our family read-aloud with the LOTR paperback set that belonged to my grandmother. These were not her original books – she loved Tolkien for years, and I’m guessing owned older, hardback editions at some point -- but she sold her extensive library off almost completely when she moved to Virginia to live with my family in 1977.  She brought a few beloved books with her, but these paperbacks were gifts to her from my Aunt Janet in 1980.

I know that because on the flyleaf of the first book she’s written, in her beautiful script: “The Lord of the Rings (A Trilogy) Part One: The Fellowship of the Ring” with her name and the date (her 75^th birthday in 1980). She then added “A birthday gift from my very, very dear Janet and Gene.” She went on to write the other part titles in the other books.

I only found out about ten years ago that she used to read aloud from LOTR to my oldest cousin Jeff when he was a kid – he told me he could still remember her Treebeard! I took that to heart and gave Treebeard my very best voice – it was so much fun reading him the other evening. Hrm. Hoom.

I love that I’m reading to S. from her great-grandmother’s copies. I’ve read them to tatters over the years, of course, which means that in some cases pages are literally falling out. It’s a small nuisance compared with the joy of feeling that we’re sharing literary love across the generations.

If you needed any evidence that Tolkien is telling one giant story in six books (divided into three tomes of two books each) the beginning of Two Towers would provide it. He jumps immediately back into the story with Aragorn hunting for the hobbits at Amon Hen. One book melts into the other. There’s no back tracking to fill you in as many “series” books do today.  You’re simply right back into the story without pausing for breath.

And the story plunges immediately into high drama, even tragedy. While Aragorn is still busy searching for the hobbits, he hears the urgent sound of Boromir’s horn and hurries to his side, only to discover that Boromir is dying, felled by an Orc attack. The hobbits have disappeared. As readers, of course, we know that Sam and Frodo have safely escaped, but we must wait to find out the fate of Merry and Pippin while Tolkien gives us a long interlude focused on Boromir, who dies sadly but gracefully (his sacrifice in the hobbits’ honor and his confession to Aragorn assuring that). JRRT then gives space for Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas to mourn their friend and give him a proper send-off in a boat down the river.

I can’t read the scenes about Boromir without remembering an article written by my friend David, which I once reflected on in a blog post here. (It also happens to reflect on similar themes in Harry Potter, fitting since today is Harry's birthday...and the birthday of his author JK Rowling too!)

Tolkien has a challenging narrative task once the Fellowship breaks apart, as he has to find a way to help us, as readers, follow them all. As my smart 12 year old pointed out, this could be accomplished with quick edits in a movie. In the book, Tolkien wisely (I think) gives us long chapters with the smaller groups that have now formed. The beginning of Two Towers has us alternating between Merry and Pippin (first kidnapped by the Orc horde, later meeting up with Treebeard and the Ents in Fangorn) and Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas, first chasing after the Orcs, then meeting up with Eomer and the Riders of Rohan. It will be a while (not until book 4, the second book in this volume) before we reconnect with Frodo and Sam, though they’re never far out of our thoughts or the thoughts of their friends.

 

Days Twenty-Seven to Thirty-Four: From the Golden Forest to the Breaking of the Fellowship

I’ve fallen so far behind in my reading journal that I’m going to need to catch up in “one fell swoop,” as the saying goes. Or rather in two – the first to catch up our final week in The Fellowship of the Ring, and the second post to catch up our first week in The Two Towers.

There is so much I would love to say about Lothlorien, which is one of my favorite places in all of Middle-earth. I love its gold and silver trees, its beauty and stillness, and the way time flows differently than it does outside (or perhaps does not flow at all, while time passes by outside it). I love the flets that they live and sleep on in the trees. There is also something deeply strengthening about knowing that here lies one of the three Elven rings, guarded and protected by Galadriel, and that as great a lady as she is, she does not seek power for the sake of power.

Personally I have always felt far more hobbit-like than elvish, and for long-term living, I would do much better in the Shire than anywhere else in Middle-earth. But Lothlorien fills me with longing. There is something about it that feels close to a picture of heaven, or as close as one can get to heaven on earth. I relate to Gimli through much of their time there – a little frightened and ill-prepared when I get there, but loath to leave (do you think that’s one reason it’s called Lothlorien?) when the time comes.

Lothlorien is where we first really start to know and love Gimli, as we watch his response to the gentling and beautifying influence of this golden world so different from anything he’s ever known. It’s also where the friendship between Gimli and Legolas begins to grow. This is one of my favorite small undercurrents in LOTR, the way the quest brings together people of different kindreds and races.

Lothlorien is the place where our heroes go for sustenance and healing after Gandalf falls in Moria. It becomes the place that fuels and prepares them for the rest of their long journey – though unknown to them, not much more of it will taken together as the company of eight – the original nine minus Gandalf at this point. After Frodo and Sam look into the Mirror of Galadriel, and after they all receive parting gifts (both symbolic and deeply practical; Sam finally gets his rope) they strike out on the river. They take leave of the golden world clad in elven cloaks that will camouflage them in many dangerous places, bearing lembas (waybread) that will sustain them in many others.

It doesn’t take long for strains in the fellowship begin to show, however. Tolkien has us flowing down the river with them, reminding us repeatedly that their moment of decision will soon be at hand. They must decide whether to stay together or separate, whether to head into the dark reaches of Mordor, where Frodo must ultimately take the Ring, or to go to Gondor, where Minas Tirith is in sore need. Boromir makes it plain where he wants to go, and doesn’t hide the fact that he thinks the rest should go with him. His restlessness and aggression seem to grow in these pages, and JRRT shows us that in subtle ways. Boromir clearly feels he has “earned” the right to have his friends come with him. He doesn’t just want the warriors – though he wants them too of course – he wants them all.  In other words, he wants Frodo to come with him to Gondor, where he thinks the Ring can be used against Sauron, though Gandalf and Elrond have counseled otherwise.

We don’t understand Boromir’s mind until quite late in the book, when in a moment of folly and madness, seemingly under the malevolent influence of the Ring, he tries to seize it from Frodo when they are alone. Although we’re not privileged to see the full unfolding of his downward spiral, it’s easy enough to imagine. His lack of understanding of the Ring’s power, his distrust of Gandalf and Elrond, and his proud belief that Gondor is the center of everything, as well as his positive loyalty to Gondor, set him up to fall prey to the temptation to seize and use the Ring himself, believing that he can safely and benignly wield it. Tolkien has already provided us with two glimpses of larger, greater people than Boromir (greater in age and in power) who have faced the Ring and realized what it would do to them if they tried to use it. Both Gandalf and Galadriel fully realize that, strong as they are, they could not master the Ring – it would slowly master them. Boromir is too young and untried, and too prey to corruption (a trait of Men in Middle-earth) to realize what would happen if he was successful in gaining the Ring.

Fortunately, he is not. Frodo escapes, though in order to do so, he must put the Ring on (“to escape the unwelcome visitor” as Merry reminds us Bilbo used to do) and that puts him in an extremely vulnerable position on Amon Hen. All is almost lost here, as the mind and finger of Sauron hones in and almost finds him before he scrambles to take off the Ring. At least Boromir’s folly pushes him to a place of decision. He will leave, leave at once. He will not put his friends in the position of going with him into the terrors of Mordor. He will leave all alone.

Except he can’t escape…Sam. “Coming, Mr. Frodo!” is one of the gladdest cries uttered in all the book. It made S. laugh out loud – she said she knew there was no way that Frodo was going to leave without Sam. Despite all the dangers and shadows ahead, and the sadness we feel that the fellowship has broken apart, there’s a gladness in us too as we watch Sam and Frodo row away together.