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.
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