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.

Day Twenty-Six: Khazad-Dum (Doom! Doom!)

A busy week has put me several days behind in my posting, but we’ve been reading along at a good clip and are actually nearing the end of Fellowship. Though I’m sorry I’ve not kept up with the daily discipline of reflecting on our reading, in some ways, it’s also enjoyable to reflect on several days’ worth, especially when the chapters read are so very different from one another.

I often think of Tolkien as the master of description. There is something beautifully precise and careful about the way he weaves together his narrative. Although you trust that he knows his plot through and through, and will carry the story through exactly as it needs to go, you never sense he is in a hurry to rush to the finish-line or sees any moment as superfluous, even if it doesn’t seem to immediately serve the needs of his plot. That languorous but purposeful pacing doesn’t seem to work for all readers, although those of us who love Tolkien love him for it.

With all that said, there are moments when you realize he can also beautifully pace a tense, dramatic scene, and “The Bridge of Khazad-Dum” is one of those places. My husband thinks it’s one of Tolkien’s best chapters anywhere, and I think he may be right. Certainly it is a pure joy to read, building tension step by painful step as we traverse with the Fellowship through the darkness of Moira, Gandalf in the lead, the light of his staff shimmering as he leads them ever onward, trying to remember the twists and turns of this deep and ancient place.

What makes it all even more ominous is that Tolkien gives us, early in the chapter, a broken glimpse of what happened to Balin and his compatriots. Given that they’ve just discovered Balin’s tomb, it’s unnerving when Gandalf finds some torn and faded pages scribbled with writing, which he attempts to decipher so they can hear the story of what happened. The company learns, to their sorrow and horror, that Orcs had descended upon Balin and his faithful companions. The story that Gandalf pieces together, in broken bits and pieces, recalls terrible drumming sounds in the deeps of Moria, a sound the Fellowship is sickened to hear not long after Gandalf finishes reading.

Reading the recurring “doom, DOOM!” in a relentless, booming way (getting a little louder as I went) lent music and suspense to the chapter (and made my husband give me a big thumbs up at the end). Lest we miss the ominous notes of the written history: “they are coming,” and “we cannot get out,” JRRT has Gimli and Legolas repeat those very words just a few minutes later, as the Fellowship realizes they are trapped. It looks as though history is about to repeat itself.

Blessedly, the company has Gandalf with them. His determination that they will survive, and his willingness to face the ancient terror of the Balrog, is inspiring. The chase across the bridge makes your heart hammer. I read “Fly, you fools!” with my best wizarding roar. Then the bridge cracked and plunged Gandalf into darkness and the rest of our heroes fled.

S. has heard us talk about LOTR so much already that she has an inkling that Gandalf will return, plus I confess I slipped and said something fairly definitive. Still, she’s read enough good stories (many of which echo Tolkien) that I don’t think this was a terrible spoiler. My favorite comment from her in this chapter was when she astutely observed that, knowing Tolkien, he probably wrote the entire history of Balin and company and only gave us little tidbits of it in the disintegrating journal.

Days Twenty-Four and Twenty-Five: Into the Darkness

Wargs and walls and watchers…oh my! Things got pretty dangerous over the two nights we journeyed with the Fellowship into the darkness.

No one, save perhaps Gimli, is too enthused to be journeying into the underground mines of Moria. Even Gimli is more curious to see what he’s only heard of in dwarf-legend, and to try to find word about the fate of his kinsman Balin, than to actually spend time there. Given the dangers all about them, however, they don’t seem to have much choice.

Aragorn seems curiously reluctant. JRRT gives him a touch of a prophetic voice here when he warns Gandalf that he thinks Moria will be a particularly difficult place for him. Given Gandalf’s wizarding strength and the fact that he is the only one of the Company who has ever been in Moria (though it’s been many years, and he entered a different way) I think this is Tolkien’s way of gently alerting the reader to be on edge.

We stay on edge throughout this chapter, except for a brief, almost comic interlude near the hidden doors of Moria. We’ve stumbled on hidden doors in Middle-Earth before (if you remember your Hobbit) but this one is a bit different. The scene has always been one of my favorite moments in Fellowship, when Gandalf confidently tries every spell he can think of (even re-arranging words in the ones he’s tried already) only to have to sit down in defeat and fume quietly while Pippin says things like “why doesn’t he DO something?” After the wizard has tried every spell he knows, he suddenly bursts out laughing and comes up with the password – so simple and obvious that it cheers his heart, and ours too, to realize that once upon a time the world of Middle-Earth was not such a dangerous place.

It’s outside the walls of Moria that we get our first inkling (if you’ll forgive the pun) of tension between Gimli and Legolas, though Gandalf begs them to put those old Elf-Dwarf differences aside in the name of unity. It’s also outside the doors that we meet a gruesome unnamed creature (later identified of the Watcher in the water) who uncannily goes for Frodo (coincidence? Gandalf thinks not) and makes them all scramble for the doors, leaving half their gear outside. Along with Sam’s pony Bill, who fortunately was blessed by Gandalf before this happens, giving us hope that he gets away.

The Watcher scene once again puts me in mind of Star Wars – remember the scene where Luke gets pulled down by something tentacled into the murky waters of the garbage disposal? So many scenes in Tolkien have their echoes in later stories (S. keeps thinking of Harry Potter parallels) that it makes you realize again how deeply important Tolkien’s additions to the cauldron of story were and are.

On into the dark we go….all the way to Balin’s tomb by the end of the chapter.

Days Twenty-Two and Twenty-Three: The Ring Goes South

Leaving behind the warmth and comfort of Rivendell, the Fellowship heads south on a cold December morning. JRRT again subtly underlines the nature of the Ring by making it the actor in the chapter title: “The Ring Goes South.” It almost sounds as though it sets out by itself. Since they’re headed by a circuitous route toward Mordor, it’s almost a certainty that the Ring does feel the “pull” of its master. The reluctance comes, not from the Ring, but from the one who carries it and all those who accompany him. Their commitment is strong, but it’s sometimes hard work to convince your feet to do what your heart knows is right.

Part of the enjoyment I get from blogging about our read-through is that I get to ponder the physical act of reading itself. Reading aloud is one of my greatest pleasures, and really the only kind of “performance” art I enjoy doing (though I perform for a very small audience, which is part of why introverted me can relax and enjoy it)! I was realizing anew, as we pushed through this chapter, how physical surroundings and other factors can affect our ability to enter fully into what we’re hearing. We had one night where we read outside on our sidewalk, something we sometimes do on lovely summer evenings, but there were talkative people across the street and some folks setting off small fireworks somewhere close by, which proved highly distracting. Not to mention lightning bugs! We did a little better indoors the next evening, as the Fellowship tackled the snowy and forbidding Caradhras, but S. was fretting about a deadline for some artwork she was entering into a contest (she was working on it while we read) so not the most ideal listening mode there either.

It’s also interesting to read a chapter so steeped in weather opposite to what we’re experiencing: we shivered through the bitter cold and snow of the mountain while living through July. Tolkien leaves it open as to whether or not the sudden snowstorm, unexpected that far south and that low down the mountain pass, is thrown at them by their ultimate enemy Sauron, lesser enemies who may be freelancing, or if the mountain itself is not somehow roused. That’s one of the most interesting notes in Tolkien for me – the idea that living things (trees, rivers, mountains) have a life of their own, quite apart from us.

There are an awful lot of leaders in this band of sojourners. The fact that sometimes they have differences of opinion soon becomes clear, when we learn that Aragorn and Gandalf were of two minds about whether or not to try the mountain pass. By the end of the chapter, the mountain has defeated them, so it looks like they will need to try Gandalf’s dark and secret way…the way no one wants to speak or think about.

Days Twenty and Twenty-One: Meetings (Reprise), Fellowship Formed, Partings

I realized that my reckoning of our reading days was off by one. Day Nineteen (now transposed here as Day Twenty) was actually the day we finished reading “Many Meetings,” the chapter that details the time at Rivendell prior to the Council. It’s important because readers are delighted to discover, along with Frodo, that Bilbo is there. That’s how he ends up at the Council – he’s been staying at Rivendell, more or less since he left Hobbiton many years ago, with one brief adventuring foray into Dale – enjoying his peaceful old age and working on his book.

It’s Bilbo’s presence, more than any of the other delights of Rivendell – safety, comfort, food, fire, song – that will make it hard for Frodo to leave. I think Elrond knows just how hard that’s going to be for Frodo, which is why he asks him again, some time after the Council, if he’s absolutely sure that he is willing to bear the responsibility of the Ring. Frodo affirms his decision, bless him, even though you know his heart must be quailing.

They all end up staying in Rivendell for quite some time, about two months, while scouts go out to discover news of the shadow’s spread and to ascertain if the Riders managed to escape still intact or had to slither off, formless, back to Mordor. It would seem that the latter is true, at least for eight of the nine, which gives us some breathing room. Autumn turns toward winter before the Nine Walkers are ready to set out.

Yes, I did say Nine Walkers. Elrond, in his wisdom, decides to pit Nine against Nine. He says somewhat ruefully that even if he had a great host of Elves, as in the Elder Days, it wouldn’t much matter, because it’s not might they need now, but secrecy and speed. They’re not trying to start a war, though they’re almost sure war is inevitable, they’re trying to find a way to get Frodo and the Ring into Mordor, undetected, for his merciful errand of destruction.

S. was curious to find out who Elrond picked for the team, so to speak. Frodo and Sam were decided at the Council, and we’re relieved to discover that Gandalf will be accompanying them too. In addition to these two hobbits and the wizard, there are two men, Aragorn (whom S. says she still thinks of as “Strider” for now), and Boromir of Gondor. Aragorn announces that he does plan to eventually help Gondor – his sword has been re-forged for that eventuality – but that for now, at least for many hundreds of miles, he and Boromir will travel with the company of the Ring. Gimli, Gloin’s son, represents the dwarves, and Legolas, whose father Thranduil long ago put a company of adventuring  dwarves in jail, will represent the elves.

That leaves two spots open. I had forgotten how hard Pippin lobbies that the last spots go to him and to Merry. He’s as persistent as a puppy, and it’s Gandalf (who has a tendency not to underestimate the hobbits) who persuades Elrond that perhaps loyalty is as good as any other reason to name someone to the Fellowship. And so it is decided. And so the company sets forth, after Bilbo and Frodo have some parting words. Bilbo gives Frodo his mail shirt and his weapon, Sting. It’s a touching moment, recalling as it does their love for one another and the nostalgia of Bilbo’s own adventuring days, but it doesn’t lapse into sentimentalism, perhaps because we recognize that Bilbo is clothing Frodo for battle.

Day Nineteen: (A Long Day) at the Council of Elrond

I would have guessed that we’d divide the Council of Elrond chapter into at least three or four nights, but yesterday found us on a long day-trip. Perfect travel weather for a road trip, and we all agreed we’d push on through the Council chapter. Reading it in one day (though we took breaks between some segments) was challenging and fun; it also gave us some opportunities to unpack the back story a bit as we lunched in a tiny little town we wandered into after missing a turn.

I’m pretty sure that this is the kind of chapter that contemporary writing teachers would tell writers to avoid writing, more’s the pity. Too much talk, not enough action for the current zeitgeist. Tolkien gives us lots of exposition through dialogue, though he does change things up a bit by having different people speak in turn, adding to the unfolding of the story of the Ring up to the present. (My husband reminded me that they tried to up the action quotient in the Jackson film version, by having Gimli try to hammer the Ring and destroy it. I suppose that is a dramatic visual of the frustration they’re all feeling toward the end of the chapter as they discuss what to do with this indestructible, evil object.)   

As a read-aloud, I found this chapter somewhat challenging because there were long, long passages to read in the voice of one character, and then I’d need to make a sudden switch. My voices tend to have very subtle differences, and sometimes I had to make a conscious effort in my head to remember to slow down the cadence and lower the tone when Gandalf was talking, for instance. So many Elf-lords interject various comments into the proceedings that I sort of gave up trying to differentiate, though I tried to invest Elrond with a bit more authority. I need to work on my Legolas. Boromir has a touch of bravado. Dwarfs sound gruffer and grittier; Hobbits speak higher (especially Frodo, whose voice I tend to make light and thin). Strider is grave and noble but speaks more quickly than Gandalf.

Everyone gets a turn here, and almost everyone has something surprising to share. If the stakes weren’t so high, and the concern over the Ring so deep, it might almost be comical the way each person keeps piling news onto the heap, and not much of it is good. We’ve been fighting the good fight in Gondor, but things are looking grim, and by the way, I had a strange dream about a sword and a halfing. What? There are halfings here? And the sword that was broken? And you’re sure you’re Isildur’s heir, Aragorn? What? And a Ring? You mean, it’s really THE Ring? We didn’t know that! Are you sure? Well, why didn’t you do something sooner? What? You were imprisoned, Gandalf? By Saruman? But we thought he was on our side! And he’s raising an army to equal Sauron’s? Well, at least we captured Gollum. What? You mean he escaped? Alas! And Frodo’s been chased here by Nine Riders, so the Nazgul have been let loose again? Are we sure they’re not dead? Too bad, but perhaps it will take them a while to regroup. And by the way, is there some way to get rid of this Ring? Couldn’t we give it to Bombadil or chuck it into the Sea? No? So it has to be destroyed, and it has to be destroyed in the fires of Mt. Doom in Mordor? That’s really not good. Who’s going to manage to get it there?

I love that Bilbo, at the age of 128, offers to try to finish the story he inadvertently “started” – though as Gandalf points out, the Ring’s story is much older than Bilbo, and the Hobbit came into it late. Everyone appreciates the offer though, knowing that Bilbo means it from the bottom of his heart, even though he’s really not quite up to adventuring anymore.

Frodo’s “I will take the Ring…though I do not know the way,” may be one of my favorite lines in the entire story. I almost can’t read it without choking up with emotion. Such great humility and courage in the face of such overwhelming darkness.

Day Eighteen: At the House of Elrond

Last night’s fireworks display prevented our usual late night reading, but I’m behind posting and thought I’d take this sunny Saturday to catch up.

The night before last found us tackling chapter 1 of book 2, “Many Meetings.” The meetings take place at Rivendell, “the Last Homely House east of the Sea” (all capitals are Tolkien’s). When Frodo wakes up, he’s a little fuzzy on how he actually got there, but fortunately he’s able to get the whole story from Gandalf.

Yes, Gandalf! At long last, the Hobbits meet back up with him, and though he at first sounds curmudgeonly and tells Frodo his behavior has been “absurd,” relief quickly wins out. He admits that he is, in fact, impressed that Frodo and the others have made it this far. Frodo is quick to praise Strider for his help. Gandalf lets Frodo know a bit more about Strider’s past, and Frodo is in awe to discover more of Aragorn’s real history. Awe is a state Frodo will continue in as he roams about Rivendell and sees how many great and mighty people are gathered there.

For the moment, however, he is just happy to be safe, and to have Gandalf once again at his side. Sam has been faithfully watching over him for much of the past four days – that’s how long he’s been asleep. We understand that his escape was a very near thing, and that what he escaped was, in fact, far worse than death. Gandalf earnestly explains that if Frodo had slipped under the power of the Ringwraiths – for we discover here that Ringwraiths are what the Nine Riders actually are – he would have become like them, in thrall to Sauron, and experiencing torment at his hands. Gandalf tells Frodo that he has resisted the evil of the splinter of the knife for much longer than many bigger people might have.

Tolkien does something here he doesn’t do often – he gives us a glimpse of a character’s thoughts that the other characters are not privy to. When Gandalf looks closely at Frodo, he notes there is a new kind of “transparency” about him, especially of the left hand. And he worries. “He is not half through yet…” he says to himself, and he wonders to what end Frodo will come, an end that even Elrond can’t foresee.  “Not to evil, I think. He may become like a glass filled with a clear light for eyes to see that can.”  It is one of our first real indications of just how much this quest may cost Frodo in the end. While it’s worrying, there is also something beautiful in the image. A wearied Frodo, worn down to his essentials, will be like a glass filled with light.

Day Seventeen: "Fly! Fly! The Enemy Is Upon Us!"

Peril catches up with Frodo and company at last, but not before they run into yet another friend. An elf named Glorfindel has been sent from Rivendell to look for them. He’s been tracking them for quite a while, and lets them know that Gandalf had not yet reached Rivendell when he left it nine days earlier. He also lends the exhausted Frodo his white horse, a steed who can outrun the horses of the Black Riders. It’s a good thing, because the full contingent of Nine Riders catches up with them at the Ford.

The pace of these passages seems to match the wild and pounding gallop of the white steed. It’s almost impossible to read the chase scene without a quickening of your heart, thus a quickening of the words. We rush with Frodo toward the hope of safety, our hearts pounding with the peril and terror of the Riders behind us. We ache with tired Frodo who hates the fact that he feels compelled to stop, that the lure on the Ring he carries is so hard to fight. And we thrill when he turns toward the pursuing enemy, raising his small voice in the face of such big evil: “By Elbereth and Luthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!”

The white waves crashing in moments later would seem to be a direct response somehow to those brave words. As the water roars and foams in a frenzy, pulling the Riders away from Frodo, he has a strange fancy that the waves look like white horses themselves. He sees “a shining figure of white light” before he faints.

Side note about white horses: there are an awful lot of them in fantasy literature, aren’t there? White horses and white stags! S. thought of the little white horse last night (not surprising, since we just read that wonderful novel by Goudge) and of course there is this white horse that Frodo rides, these white horses in the water, and later on, Shadowfax. There’s the white stag in Narnia, whom the Pevensies are chasing when they move back into their own world, and the brightly lit patronus stag and doe of Harry Potter. I’m sure there are plenty of other white animals I’m not thinking of at present…

Day Sixteen: On Toward the Ford

We got a later start on reading last night because we took a long family walk right around twilight, which arrives pretty late in these summer months. It was a beautiful walk across a nearby bridge, and we enjoyed seeing the colors of sunlight play over the surface of the river below us. It seemed fitting then that we should join back up with the Hobbits and Strider as they headed for the Last Bridge en route to the Ford of Bruinen.

Chapter 12, “Flight to the Ford” has another title that causes trepidation, and that feeling is evoked further in the first half of the chapter (what we read last night) as the Hobbits and Strider travel along, road weary and wary of seeing the Enemy around every bend.  Strider is on his guard that the Enemy seems to have fled following their attack at Weathertop. He thinks this may be because they’re sure that Frodo’s wound was bad enough that he’s pretty much finished, and they’re simply biding their time. The wound would not be so serious if it hadn’t been made by a cursed and evil blade, but apparently its poison is hard to draw out, though Strider gives it best. He forages for Athleas, a plant with special healing properties, and sings over the evil hilt (all that is left of the terrible blade, which literally melts before their eyes).

Although Frodo is weak and cold, Strider counsels Sam not to give up hope. “Your Frodo is made of sterner stuff than I had guessed,” he admits, adding that Gandalf had thought so all along.

Two signs of light and hope carry us into the middle of the chapter: a beautiful beryl (an elven jewel) on the bridge, and the coming across of the old stone trolls from a story Frodo and friends…and the rest of us…know well. Yes, they stumble across the very trolls that Gandalf turned to stone during Bilbo’s long-ago adventure. Merry and Pippin are worried at first that they’re live trolls, forgetting both their family history and the fact that trolls can’t hang around in broad daylight, but they all have a good laugh, especially when Strider points out that one of the trolls has a bird’s nest in its ear! That gave us a chuckle too.

We finished up with Sam’s delightful, original song about trolls. There’s so much more to Sam than meets the eye.

Days Fourteen and Fifteen: On to Weathertop

The weekend birthday celebration – stretched out over three days, and including a lovely visit from out of town friends – means I got a bit behind in my reading re-caps. We have continued to move forward in the reading each night though, welcoming the chance to fall into Tolkien’s exquisitely crafted world in the midst of our own summer busy-ness. This week should be quieter, and we should actually finish book one of Fellowship and move into book two. For the past couple of days, however, we’ve been lingering in the lengthy penultimate chapter eleven “A Knife in the Dark.”

S. was once again bit worried about the ominous chapter title, and well she might be. There are actually two “knives in the dark” in this chapter. In the first few pages, we see that Strider was right to keep the Hobbits in the little parlour/sitting room at the inn, instead of sending them to their beds. While he stays up and keeps watch (one gets the impression that Strider sleeps very lightly whenever he does sleep, which doesn’t seem to be often) some of the Black Riders make their way into the room where the Hobbits should have been sleeping. They slash up the mattresses and pillows, presumably enraged to not find them there. (One also gets the impression that, for all their evil menace, the Black Riders are thankfully a bit slow on the uptake…or perhaps just have a hard time maneuvering in the full dimensions of the living. Thank goodness.)

So the Hobbits and Strider escape, but not too quickly or quietly, which was their original hope. Their ponies have been let loose and they have to find another one to carry the baggage so they can set out on foot. They leave town with this poor, thin creature in tow, chased by curses and vitriol from the mean Bill Ferny, and with almost everyone in Bree watching and wondering over the strange events of the past day. But at least they have Strider by their side. By the time they get to Weathertop, days later, they’re thinner, hungry, tired, and ever more worried that they’ve missed Gandalf…who nevertheless seems to have been in the vicinity recently and tried to leave them a message. I don’t think S. picked up on the portent of the flashing lights they see from a distance before they get to Weathertop, though Strider does observe that it looks as though Gandalf must have been attacked there three days previously.

While they travel on, we get a surprising glimpse of Sam’s love of poetry and a further glimpse at his love of Elven-lore…both things that seem to be due to his friendship with Bilbo when he was a young lad. I love the thought of Bilbo planting seeds of adventure and history and poetry in Sam while the Gaffer planted vegetable and flower seeds outside in the garden at Bag End. The Hobbits are beginning to realize there is much more to Strider than meets the eye, and ask him to tell them some old legends or tales. He gives them the sad story of Tinuviel, an important bit of history and lovely piece of poetry, not to mention a welcome respite before the final storm of the chapter.

The second knife in the dark comes right at the end of the chapter, when they find themselves surrounded by five Black Riders (the most we’ve seen all together so far) in the dell at Weathertop. Frodo fights temptation as hard as he can, but still succumbs to putting on the Ring. We had an interesting talk about that after we finished reading, about how the Ring seems to have a mind of its own and to feel the pull of its evil master. S. seemed intrigued and worried that Frodo can see into the world of the Riders when he has the Ring on – that he can actually see what’s under their cloaks. The chapter ends with Frodo stabbed with what feels like “a dart of poisoned ice” and managing to take the ring off as he’s falling into unconsciousness. As he loses consciousness, he sees their staunch defender Strider run forward with fire.

Day Thirteen: Strider

At last we got to one of my favorite chapters in Fellowship: where the Hobbits meet Strider. He’s one of those amazing characters that starts in shadow (literally) and emerges, bit by bit, into the full light. I love how we get to know him so slowly, along with the Hobbits, and trust him more and more the further along the journey we go. I wrote an essay once, published in a small literary magazine, about unlikely literary heroes – and I featured Strider front and center.

“All that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost.” It’s one of my favorite lines of Tolkien’s poetry, and it speaks volumes about Strider’s character. He doesn’t have a very glamorous exterior, but he’s pure gold inside, and he may seem to “wander” (hence the reputation of the “Rangers”) but he wanders to real purpose. Among other things we learn about him early on is the fact that he has sometimes stood guard over the Shire in Gandalf’s absence.

Ah, Gandalf! Trusting that letter to Butterbur! The old inn keeper at the Prancing Pony means well, but he’s easily distracted, and in this case his distraction and forgetfulness almost proves fatal to Frodo and friends. Having the letter from Gandalf, even though it’s too late for its original purpose (to get Frodo to leave the Shire in summer, not fall) does at least cement Frodo’s hesitant urge to trust Strider. Sam remains dubious, but he and Strider will come to love and trust each other as time passes.

Days Eleven and Twelve: Barrow-Wights and Bree-Folk

Yesterday ended up so busy that I didn't manage my daily post for Day Eleven, so I thought I'd catch up two days in one today.

First of all, mea culpa for my comment in Day Ten that no one ever put Tom Bombadil or Beorn in a movie. As far as I know, that's still true of Tom Bombadil, but having just watched the beginning of Peter Jackson's Hobbit (part 2), I realize that Beorn did make it to the screen. He's not quite like I imagined, but then everything in Jackson's Hobbit always looks and feels more savage than anything I imagine. But he is there!

Day Eleven found us with Frodo and company on the Barrow-Downs. This is a strange, other-wordly place where it's easy to get lost, and easy to get ensnared in what feels like a hidden dimension.  The hobbits don't mean to go there, but they find themselves somehow pulled there, and in the end it's once again Frodo's willingness to ask for help (with the rhyme Tom gave them) that saves the day. It's hard not to see providence at work even in some of these most difficult and sticky situations the hobbits get into. While it's not good that they're trapped in the barrows, it turns out to be a good thing that they're given weapons. When Tom sets them on the path again, and rides with them to the borders of his country, he also gives them advice about where to go next, which is how they end up at the Prancing Pony in Bree.

There's something about this inn the crossroads that always puts me in mind a bit of the cantina in Mos Eisley -- or rather the cantina puts me in mind of the inn, since it got invented many years later. Perhaps adventure/quest stories need this kind of place, a place where information can be learned or given, a place where our heroes begin to see just how big a world they're traveling in. (Sam is amazed by houses that are three stories tall!) We readers get to see a mix of Middle-Earth folks, Big and Little, at the Prancing Pony. Some of them seem ominous, others harmless, most somewhere in between, but it's all a rich conglomeration of culture. Incidentally, this is one of the few places where I think that Bakshi's creative but highly uneven Lord of the Rings is very effective...his mix of rotoscoped live action and animation in the Prancing Pony scene gives us an interesting sense of very different worlds coming together in a cross-cultural mix.

Frodo tries to do a good job remembering that he's Mr. Underhill, not Mr. Baggins, but hobbits don't wear deception or disguise very well. Give them good beer and some homelike food, and they're into telling stories with the Outsiders before you know it. Pippin almost gives away the show with his story of Bilbo's birthday disappearance, and Frodo steps in to intervene at the last moment, at the urging of a dark and scraggly looking stranger, a Ranger named Strider who is lurking in a shadowy corner of the room, his long legs in their tall leather boots stretched before him. Alas, somehow the Ring finds its way onto Frodo's finger (it does seem to have a mind of its own!) right in the midst of his second performance of a delightfully funny song inspired by the nursery rhyme "Hey Diddle Diddle." His abrupt disappearance, which he tries unsuccessfully to cover up, scandalizes the decent folks and quickens the interest of the sinister ones.

Day Ten: With Tom and Goldberry

Tom Bombadil is one of those characters, along with Beorn in The Hobbit, who never seems to make film adaptations. Maybe there is something about these mysterious, larger-than-life, almost mythological characters that defies visual capture, or maybe filmmakers are afraid of unplugging the stories from the immediate plot engine that keeps them running. What a mysterious character like Bombadil does is remind us that Middle-Earth has a history – a long, long history that pre-dates not just Frodo and all the other characters in the foreground, but even the old Ring itself and the power that crafted it. And that helps us keep things in perspective.

“Who is Tom Bombadil?” my daughter asked last night, as we settled in for Chapter Seven “At the House of Tom Bombadil.” A good question. Less that two pages later, Frodo asks Goldberry the same thing.

Ah, Goldberry. Such grace and loveliness, a kind of river nymph who puts you in mind of many mythological women and almost feels like an earthier, more practical Galadriel…but I’m getting ahead of myself. S. was so excited when we met Goldberry. “A girl character!” she cried. “We don’t get many of those in these books!” I try to read Goldberry with a slightly high-pitched lilt, while I tend to rumble Tom’s voice a bit, while letting his phrases fall into their natural sing-song kind of cadence. Reading Tom aloud, you realize how much of his speech is poetry.

I’m feeling so thankful for this whole tapestry of characters we’ve seen in the first chapters, characters on the side of good and right who have helped Frodo and promised further help. He sorely needs their help, and he needs the awareness of all this goodness before he moves further into danger and peril. Gandalf (still mysteriously missing) is one great ally, but there are so many more. Farmer Maggot, Gildor, Tom, and Goldberry are all part of this team. I love realizing, from the hints Tolkien gives us, that there are lines of connection between some of these people.

One of my favorite bits of writing comes when Tolkien describes the dream world of the four hobbits as they sleep at Tom’s house. He provides a lengthy paragraph to describe each hobbit’s dream, giving us insights into the inner concerns and fears of Frodo, Pippin, and Merry. Then he gets to Sam and writes: “As far as he could remember, Sam slept through the night in deep content, if logs are contented.”  It’s a moment that makes you smile or even laugh, delivered with great timing. But in its own way, it also provides insight into the soul of Sam – and makes me oh so glad he is with Frodo too.

The most intriguing bit of the entire chapter might be when Tom, having heard Frodo’s story (and Tolkien tells us that Frodo finds himself more forthcoming with Tom than he has been with anyone so far, even Gandalf) asks to see the Ring. Frodo is able to hand it over without a moment of hesitation. He is astonished, and so are we, to discover that the Ring seems to have no effect on Tom. He not only doesn’t seem to desire it or its power, he plays with it like it’s a toy. And it does not make him vanish. Indeed, he makes it vanish – leading one to wonder why he can’t just keep it or get rid of it, and thus let Frodo out of the arduous task

One senses, more than ever, that this is a task intended for Frodo and company, however, and that Tom, with his long, long memory and keen sense of the world, understands that too. Frodo shows some petulance here, actually bothered that Tom’s nonchalance in the face of such an important object somehow shows disrespect or makes light of the peril. Even Gandalf took it seriously! I feel like patting Frodo on the head here, and assuring him that Tom takes it seriously too…but he’s also able to take it more lightly because he seems to have such a long perspective. (This morning, I find myself thinking of the old expression: “angels can fly because they take themselves so lightly.”) Even the seeming worst that evil can do doesn’t faze Tom. That too heartens our spirits at this point in the narrative, much as the cool, fresh water they drink at Tom’s house heartens the spirits of the hobbits. Frodo may not realize it, but in these early days, he’s storing up “life and food for future years” (to quote Wordsworth). He’s going to need it.

Day Nine: Pushing Through the Forest

I made the mistake of deciding to read all of Chapter Six, “The Old Forest,” based on a hasty look at the page count. I need to remember that with Tolkien, it’s not always the number of pages but how those pages are written that determine how easily one moves forward!

It’s actually yet another sign of writing artistry when I say that our tired little family had a challenging time making our way through the chapter last night, because Tolkien’s densely packed prose seems to mimic the action. We push through bushels of words: detailed, lengthy descriptions packed tightly around only small bits of dialogue, while the four hobbits whose fortunes we follow are trying to make their way through a dense, quiet forest that doesn’t want them to pass through it. They literally get pushed in a direction they don’t want to take, and end up falling under the spell of an Old Willow tree by the Withywindle River (S. loved that name…and so do I!). As they got sleepier and sleepier, I couldn’t help thinking of the poppy field in The Wizard of Oz, and I couldn’t help noticing that my two listening dear ones were also getting sleepier. Of course, as difficult as their journey through the forest is, "it's nothing compared to Mirkwood!" as S. pointed out knowledgeably. 

The end of the chapter does provide a wake-up call. Just when it looks as though Pippin may be lost forever, and Merry is being dragged underground by the Old Willow’s sentient roots (these will not be the last very living trees we’ll encounter!) Frodo does a wonderfully wise thing. He runs down the path shouting “Help! Help!” as loudly as he can. It seems a little silly at first, until we realize that someone’s listening. In yet another moment that hardly feels like a chance encounter, Tom Bombadil, that intriguing-singing-rhyming-strong-man of the forest, shows up and rescues both Merry and Pippin.

Frodo is generally such a mild and quiet character that I almost overlook him, even though he is the protagonist of much of this epic. Other people jump off the page as greater and more obvious heroes. When I think of Frodo, I tend to think of patience and long-suffering, qualities he shows deeply as the narrative progresses. But this time through Fellowship, I am finding myself drawn to elements of his personality that I’m not sure I’ve consciously pondered before. I love his willingness to ask for and accept help. I love it that he looks for help outside of himself even when it looks as though there’s no help to be found. And lo and behold! It turns out that there is help of a very real kind.

Day Eight: The Power of Friendship

Thank heavens for friends. 

Chapter Five is titled “A Conspiracy Unmasked.” S. wasn’t sure what the word “conspiracy” meant, so her dad explained it was when people plotted and made plans together. “Like when you whisper to me, ‘let’s go tickle Mom!’” That made me laugh.

Despite the benign description, S. was afraid the title had ominous overtones, and given the way the danger has been ramping up, I could see why. She was happy to discover that the conspiracy was a good one, made up of Merry, Pippin, and Sam, Frodo’s dear friends. It turns out that they’ve been eavesdropping and watching after Frodo carefully for some time, trying to put a few things together. Merry has been piecing information together, in fact, for years, ever since he happened to see Bilbo use the ring to disappear (trying to avoid the Sackville-Bagginses. Heh.)

With this device, Tolkien adroitly avoids the need for Frodo to retell the story of the ring and mostly avoids even have to say “Frodo told them everything.” It moves the story along more smoothly but it also provides this wonderful chapter in which he celebrates friendship, one of the deepest running undercurrents of all the books. Frodo is blessed beyond measure to find that his friends have cared enough to notice what’s going on in his world (up until now, I think it felt like a very private dilemma) and even more blessed to realize they mean what they say about coming with him as he flies “from deadly peril into deadly peril.” Thankfully, Frodo is quick and grateful to accept their help. Another reason to like him.

The final part of the chapter recounts their decision to leave at daybreak and head for the Old Forest, a landscape that Fatty Bolger (the fourth friend, and the one being left behind to impersonate Frodo and pass a message on to Gandalf if he comes) is only too glad to not have to face.