“For if We Fall, Who Shall Stand? And, Master Peregrin, Do You See Any Hope That We Shall Stand?” Beregond and Pippin on the Walls of Minas Tirith.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 745-749

After Pippin and Beregond look to the welfare of Shadowfax and find food together they make their way onto the walls of the city and look out, north, east and south as final preparations are made for war. Far below them, on the road that winds through the Pelennor Fields, they see a line of wagons bearing the sad cargo of the women and children of the city heading southward, the ancient sign of war. The most vulnerable are torn from their homes and will rely now upon the kindness of strangers. So it continues until our own times.

Beregond may not be one of the captains of Gondor but he is a man who thinks both widely and deeply, and he begins to reflect upon the strategic peril of his own land and also of the free lands of the West. Already there is news that the Corsairs of Umbar are sailing towards the seaport of Pelargir; and because of the threat they pose the people of the south are staying near their homes in order to defend them instead of coming to the aid of Minas Tirith. And then Beregond ponders the events in Rohan that Pippin has described to him.

“The doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught now in a great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords, raiding from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This is a great war long planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say.”

At last Pippin and Beregond look out towards the east from which the darkness comes and Beregond asks of Pippin and of his own heart the question to which he most fears an answer.

“Here will the hammer-stroke fall hardest. And for that reason Mithrandir came in such haste. For if we fall, who shall stand? And Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall stand?”

Is there any hope? That is the question that everything comes to. And as Beregond asks the question so Pippin’s imagination is filled with memories of the journey that he has undertaken. He thinks of the Uruk-hai of Isengard in the woods and the fall of Boromir and he remembers the pursuit of the Nazgûl in the lanes of the Shire at a time when he had little understanding of the peril that they represented. And as he remembers them and all that he has known of their terror a shadow passes across the sun and Pippin turns white and cowers against the wall. Beregond bears no judgement at all as he sees Pippin’s reaction.

“You also felt something?”

“Yes,” muttered Pippin. “It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow of doom, a Fell Rider of the air.”

“Yes, the shadow of doom,” said Beregond. “I fear that Minas Tirith shall fall. Night comes. The warmth of my blood seems stolen away.”

Pippin and Beregond seem overwhelmed by the horror that is coming to assail them. Every hope, every dream that they may have carried in their hearts both for themselves and for those that they love is extinguished in their hearts. All that there is is darkness. We are reminded of the account of the Last Supper that is given by St John and the moment when Judas Iscariot goes from the upper room to betray Jesus to the Temple authorities and the words that conclude this part of the story.

“And it was night.”

In the greatest stories, perhaps even in the story that is our life, there will come a moment when there is only darkness that can be seen and there seems no light beyond it. We saw Sam Gamgee kneel beside the body of Frodo, filled as it was with Shelob’s venom. We fell to the ground in horror with the Fellowship after the fall of Gandalf at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. At those moments all hope seemed lost. But there was still a moment beyond that. And another one, and another. And in some way another step was taken. And another. As Aragorn said at the eastern gate of Moria. “We shall go on without hope.”

“They Say that Men Who Go Warring Afield Look Ever to the Next Hope of Food and Of Drink.” Pippin Makes the Acquaintance of Beregond of the Guard.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 744-745

After his gruelling encounter with the Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, Pippin unsurprisingly responds to this experience as would any self respecting hobbit. He looks for something to eat. The tower bell has just struck 9 o’clock and Pippin stands alone in the street.

“Just the time for a nice breakfast, by the open window in spring sunshine,” he says to himself and immediately we are reminded of Bilbo on the adventure that we know as The Hobbit. Pippin reminds more of Bilbo than of Frodo. It is unlikely that Thorin Oakenshield would have praised Frodo for his pleasure in the matters of the table as he did Bilbo but he would have recognised in Pippin a kindred spirit to his friend and travelling companion. And he would not have mistaken Pippin’s love for food and drink for inadequacy in martial valour. Nor does Beregond of the Guard when Pippin asks him where he might find something to eat.

“Beregond looked at him gravely. ‘An old campaigner, I see,’ he said. ‘They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope of food and drink; though I am not a travelled man myself.”

Tolkien, an army veteran himself of the First World War (1914-18), knew of what he spoke. It is thought that one of the things that encouraged young men in Britain to sign up at the outbreak of the war in 1914 was the guarantee of a good meal every single day. My father, himself a veteran of the Normandy landings in the Second World War of June 1944, and of the battles that followed them, used to speak of how the officers would never sit down for their own meal in the evening until they had made sure that the men under their command had eaten theirs.

Unbeknown to himself Pippin has already eaten breakfast in the company of the Steward of Gondor. As he says to Beregond it was “no more than a cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord”. To Pippin this was little more than a snack and hard earned because of Denethor’s interrogation but Beregond laughs and then replies that Pippin has broken his fast “as well as any man in the Citadel, and with greater honour.” It is worth noting here that the character of Denethor that Tolkien draws is very different from that created by Peter Jackson. I am sure that my readers will remember the scene in the film in which Denethor consumes a lavish meal served by a Pippin who is trying to hide his distaste as Faramir leads his men into battle in a suicidal cavalry charge. This is far from Tolkien’s creation. Denethor is no glutton. If anything he is a man incapable of escaping the bleak austerity of a city under siege. In the last post on this blog we spoke of Denethor’s wanhope, a state of mind to quote Chaucer, “that is despair of the mercy of God that comes sometimes of too much outrageous sorrow and sometimes of too much dread”.

Pippin, like Gandalf as we have thought about in recent posts, is a lover of life. By this we do not mean that he will “eat, drink and be merry” for all that he has to look forward to is death. Pippin does eat and drink, and he is certainly merry, but he does so in celebration of life. Pippin knows deep sorrow. He saw Boromir fall and he carries the pain of that sorrow with him wherever he goes and has offered himself in service to Boromir’s father in payment of the debt he feels he owes. But Pippin does this because in all things he joyfully affirms the life that Boromir laid down for him. Maybe that is why he was able to see the mirth in Gandalf that always lies just below the surface. Maybe that is why he is drawn to Gandalf. Maybe that is also why Gandalf is drawn to him.

“Opposing The Fire That Devours and Wastes With The Fire That Kindles.” Gandalf Kindles a Flame in The Hearts of The Free Peoples of Middle-earth.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 741-743

Readers of my blog will know that it is my custom to make the heading of each post a quotation taken from the passage in The Lord of the Rings that I am thinking about. In this post, the last in this short series on Gandalf in which I have been thinking about the question that Pippin asked of himself as he stood between Gandalf and Denethor, “What was Gandalf?”, I have taken my quotation from a different source.

To help me in my reflections I have been using an essay that Tolkien wrote but never published, and that his son, Christopher, included in Unfinished Tales. The title of the essay is The Istari, and can be found between pp. 502-520 in that volume. In that essay Tolkien wrote this of Gandalf:

“Warm and eager was his spirit (and it was enhanced by the ring Narya) for he was the Enemy of Sauron, opposing the fire that devours and wastes with the fire that kindles, and succours in wanhope and distress; but his joy, and his swift wrath, were veiled in garments grey as ash, so that only those who knew him well glimpsed the flame that was within.” (Unfinished Tales p.505 Harper Collins 1998)

I hope that you, like me, will have found your heart warmed by this description of Gandalf, and that thoughts about many passages in The Lord of the Rings will have been evoked as you read it. Indeed, so much was fire associated with Gandalf that when he kindled fire with a word of command in the snows of the Misty Mountains to save the company from freezing to death he declared to them:

“If there are any to see, then I at least am revealed to them… I have written Gandalf is here in signs that all can read from Rivendell to the mouths of Anduin.” (The Fellowship of the Ring p. 283)

Perhaps it was this spirit that Círdan of the Grey Havens recognised when Gandalf first arrived in Middle-earth around the year 1,000 in the Third Age, for it was Círdan who gave him Narya, the ring of fire, that was at that time in his possession. Círdan had received Narya from Celebrimbor in order to keep it safe from Sauron but he never used it, knowing that he had no particular affinity to the ring, that there was nothing in his spirit that would mean that he could use the ring’s fiery capabilities. He knew that this quality of the ring would be needed in the struggle against Sauron and in recognising Gandalf’s “joy and swift wrath”, hidden though these qualities were beneath his “garments grey as ash”, he knew that he had found the true keeper of the ring of fire.

Gandalf opposed Sauron in two ways. On occasion, when necessity demanded it, he would literally fight fire with fire, opposing the power of darkness with light. In The Lord of the Rings the occasion in which we see this most clearly is in the battle against the Balrog of Moria, the “the flame of Udûn”, when Gandalf declares himself as a “servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor”. (Fellowship p.322). The Balrog knows what he means by these words and we read that the fire in it seems to die as it hears them. After a long struggle the Balrog meets its end at Gandalf’s hands and although Gandalf gives up his life in this battle it is the flame of Anor that prevails and Gandalf receives his life again from Iluvatar.

Gandalf can wield fire in battle when necessary but for much of his time in Middle-earth it is the second way in which he opposes Sauron that is most prevalent. He opposes the fire that destroys, not in open conflict but “with the fire that kindles and succours”. Gandalf warms the hearts of the peoples of Middle-earth.

Tolkien uses a word that is rarely used in the English language to describe the condition of so many that seek to oppose the Dark Lord. It is the word, wanhope. We still use the word, wan, to speak of something that is a poor version of the best, but wanhope is a stronger word yet. In Chaucer’s Parson’s Tale (c.1400), we read:”now comes wanhope that is despair of the mercy of God that comes sometimes of too much outrageous sorrow and sometimes of too much dread” (my translation of Chaucer’s Middle English). I am sure that Tolkien had the good parson’s words in mind in using this word in Unfinished Tales and in describing the state of mind of many who despair of prevailing in the struggle against Sauron. Gandalf was able to save Théoden from wanhope but failed to do so in Denethor. Théoden renounces his despair while Denethor gives into his. Eventually it is the unexpected and unlooked for good fortune found in the person of Gollum in the Cracks of Doom that will save Middle-earth from destruction but it is Gandalf’s tireless work that means that there is a world worth saving.

Further Thoughts on Gandalf’s “Fountain of Mirth”. Gandalf and The Shire.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp.741-743

This is the third post in a short series of reflections that I am writing about Gandalf based upon the observations that Pippin makes of him both in the scene that takes place in the throne room of Gondor at the beginning of The Return of the King, the final volume of The Lord of the Rings and the scene that follows immediately after. As we saw in the last piece Pippin’s thoughts about Gandalf are inspired by the comparison that he begins to draw with Denethor, realising that Denethor’s impressive demeanour does not go anywhere near as deep as the reality of Gandalf, even though this does not seem so at first glance.

Two weeks ago I wrote about Gandalf’s joy for the first time, a joy that Pippin sees as “a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth”, and in this post I want to think more about this.

The hobbits of the Shire know Gandalf as a strange figure who comes and goes among them from time to time. In many ways their main impression of him is as a kind of travelling showman. They know him best for his spectacular firework shows, such as he offered them at Bilbo’s farewell party. When in Lothlórien Frodo and Sam composed poetry by which to remember him after his fall in Moria it was this that Sam recalled most vividly. 

The finest rockets ever seen:
they burst in stars of blue and green, 
or after thunder golden showers 
came falling like a rain of flowers.

And if it were not Gandalf’s fireworks for which he was best known in the Shire it might have been his pleasure in pipe-smoking, something to which the hobbits had first introduced him. Indeed we might say that it was play and pleasure that regularly brought Gandalf to the Shire. Gandalf says as much in his telling of the story that we know as The Hobbit to Frodo and other members of the Fellowship in Minas Tirith after Aragorn’s coronation.

“I was tired, and I was going to the Shire for a short rest, after being away from it for more than twenty years. I thought that if I put them [dark thoughts about the return of Sauron and the potential threat of Smaug the dragon] out of my mind for a while I might perhaps find some way of dealing with these troubles.” (Unfinished Tales p. 416)

Gandalf associated the Shire and hobbits with much needed rest. But was it merely coincidental that it was on his way to the Shire that Gandalf met with Thorin Oakenshield and learned of Thorin’s desire to lead an expedition to recover the Lonely Mountain from the terrible dragon that lived there? It was in his meeting with Thorin that the thought of Bilbo Baggins first came into Gandalf’s mind.

“Suddenly in my mind these three things came together: the great Dragon with his lust, and his keen hearing and scent; the heavy-booted Dwarves with their old burning grudge; and the quick soft-footed Hobbit, sick at heart (I guessed) for a sight of the wide world.” (Unfinished Tales p. 417)

What Gandalf does is to play with the images that come into his mind, allowing them to take shape there and, in a sense, take on a life of their own. In many ways Gandalf does exactly what Tolkien the storyteller does. Both he and Tolkien journey into the imaginal realm and they play amidst the images that they find there.

It is essential here to emphasise that neither Tolkien’s play or Gandalf’s is a mere passing away the time between more serious tasks. Or maybe I should say that Tolkien was not just passing time when he journeyed into Faerie, the perilous realm, the imaginal realm. It was in that realm that both discovered and then sub-created his legendarium from what he saw.

In his telling of his story to Frodo and his companions Gandalf tells us a little more of his own journey into the imaginal realm, the journey that takes him to a place in which Smaug, Thorin Oakenshield and his companions, and Bilbo Baggins, somehow find themselves together. It is a journey that no-one else takes and it leads to consequences that no-one could have anticipated. For on his journey Bilbo finds the Ring of Power. Even at the time of that discovery no-one, Gandalf included, had any idea of the significance of Bilbo’s magic ring. Gandalf describes his own actions as no more than following “the lead of ‘chance'”, a journey on which he made many mistakes by his own admission.

We will come back to that journey in the next piece. In the meantime I invite you to think further about the relationship between play in Gandalf’s story and the events that ultimately lead to the discovery and then the destruction of the Ring and the fall of Sauron. I believe that they are intimately bound together.

I am grateful for the work of Dr Becca Tarnas for introducing me to the idea of Tolkien’s journey into the imaginal realm. I hope that her doctoral thesis comparing the Red Books of J.R.R Tolkien and Carl Jung will be published soon. In the meantime can I recommend her reader’s guide to The Lord of the Rings, “Journey to the Imaginal Realm”, published by Revelore Press in 2019.

“Pippin Perceived That Gandalf Had The Greater Power, and a Deeper Wisdom, and a Majesty That Was Veiled.” Pippin Begins to Ask The Question, “What Was Gandalf?”

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 740-743

This is the second post that I am writing about Gandalf in this short series based upon his arrival in Minas Tirith with Pippin. What I seek to write is, in effect, an attempt to answer a question that Pippin asked of himself in the throne room of Gondor as he stood between Gandalf and Denethor and felt the power of both.

“Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf did, more kingly, beautiful and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other than sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the deeper wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older.”

It is the contrast between Gandalf and Denethor that causes Pippin to deepen his perception, causes him to begin to realise that reality is more than can be understood through the senses. Denethor merely looked more like a great wizard than Gandalf. It requires the development of an inner eye for Pippin to begin to truly see. Perhaps it was his experience with the Palantír, the Seeing Stone, and maybe even his encounter with Sauron himself through that medium and the recognition of his utter vulnerability that accelerated Pippin’s journey towards a greater wisdom. And it leads him to a question.

“What was Gandalf?”

It is thanks to Christopher Tolkien that we have so many of his father’s papers that remained unpublished during his lifetime and in one that was published as an essay entitled, The Istari, in Unfinished Tales (Harper Collins 1998 pp. 502-520) Tolkien tells us much that is only hinted at in The Lord of the Rings. For example, take the insight that Pippin has “a majesty that was veiled”. In his essay we read this about Gandalf and the other Istari.

We read that during the Third Age the Valar sent with the consent of Eru, “members of their own high order” to Middle-earth. And that, although they were by nature spirits they were “clad in bodies as of Men, real and not feigned”. The point was that when in the First Age the Valar became aware of the coming of the Elves, the First Born, to Middle-earth, they went there from Valinor to persuade them to leave Middle-earth and to go with them to the safety of the Undying Lands, away from the threat of Morgoth. But they went in their full glory and terrified many of the Elves who refused to go with them. In sending the Istari in the Third Age the Valar determined not to repeat the same mistake.

“The emissaries were forbidden to reveal themselves in forms of majesty, or to seek to rule the wills of Men or Elves by open display of power, but coming in shapes weak and humble were bidden to advise and persuade Men and Elves to do good, and to seek to unite in love and understanding all those whom Sauron, should he come again, would endeavour to dominate and corrupt.” (Unfinished Tales p. 503)

Of the five wizards who came to the north of Middle-earth, two, the Blue Wizards, do not enter our tale. Even Tolkien did not know much of what became of them except that they may have gone into the East. Radagast the Brown, who makes a charming appearance in Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies, riding his sleigh drawn by hares, seems to have given up so much power that he no longer had much to do with those who might oppose Sauron, preferring to live among birds and animals. Saruman, we know, came to reveal himself in majesty, becoming impatient with the free peoples of Middle-earth and with the patience of the Valar and of Eru. Eventually he even chose to ally himself with Sauron while plotting to replace him as Dark Lord through his own study in rings of power. Only Gandalf remained true to his original calling.

Tolkien was devoutly Roman Catholic and as I read these words about the mission of the Istari I cannot help but ask the question whether he felt that the Church should not go to the world, seeking to rule the lives of people “by open display of power”. Should the Church go to the world in “shapes weak and humble” as Gandalf did? Were the occasions in which the Church, and especially its bishops, sought to terrify ordinary folk, occasions in which it fell into the temptation of Saruman. Were the splendid palaces of the princes of the Church expressions of Isengard rather than Rivendell? Should the servants of the Church be pilgrims on the same roads as ordinary people as Gandalf is rather than mighty lords as Saruman became?

“Under All There Was There Was a Great Joy: a Fountain of Mirth Enough to Set a Kingdom Laughing.” Who is Being Described Here?

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The Return of the King by J.R.R (Harper Collins 1991) pp 741-743

I posed a question in the title of this blog post because I don’t think that the answer is immediately obvious. If the quotation in the title was a part of a quiz question and you were asked to identify who is being described I feel quite certain that a few, at least, of my reade1rs would not identify the character. After all, in Peter Jackson’s films there are only two occasions on which he laughs aloud. The first is upon his arrival in the Shire at the beginning of the story, the second when he celebrates the fall of Sauron and the recovery of Frodo and Sam.

The character to whom I am of course referring is Gandalf and the one who is describing him is Pippin.

I think that there is an element of surprise here about both of them. Gandalf is usually a very serious character and Pippin is surprised indeed by the sound of Gandalf’s laughter.

“Are you angry with me, Gandalf?” Pippin asks as they emerge from the throne room together. “I did the best I could.”

“You did indeed!” said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and stood beside Pippin, putting his arm across the hobbit’s shoulders, and gazed out of the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close beside his own for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the wizard’s face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.”

I will return to thoughts about Gandalf in a moment as it is about him that we are thinking in this post but I did refer to two elements of surprise. The second element, of course, is what we learn about Pippin. It is Pippin who glances in wonder at Gandalf. He glances, of course, because he is too shy to stare at Gandalf. But his glance is one of wonder, wonder at the gaiety and merriment that he discerns in a laugh that comes from someone in whom until now he has only seen “care and sorrow”.

Pippin is growing. And he is growing fast.

We will return to Pippin on another occasion but now we must think more about Gandalf. Perhaps, like Pippin, we have only seen Gandalf’s surface, his care and sorrow, until now. There is nothing to be ashamed of here. Gandalf has much to be sorrowful about as he has long carried the burdens of care for Middle-earth upon his shoulders. As he said to Denethor in the throne room: “But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care.” For Gandalf too is a steward, even as Denethor is, but his stewardship is over a greater realm than Gondor and he is a lord over no realm or people. His stewardship is one of care alone.

When Gandalf first arrived at the Grey Havens in Middle-earth around the year 1000 of the Third Age Círdan, the Warden of the Havens greeted him with sober speech.

“Great perils and labours lie before you, and lest your task prove too great and wearisome, take this ring for your aid and comfort.” (Unfinished Tales Harper Collins 1998 p. 504)

In the next few posts on my blog I intend to think much more about Gandalf, both about his labours but also about his joy. The two are intimately bound together and it is essential that we see them as such. As we think about Gandalf we might be reminded of lines from William Blake’s great poem, Auguries of Innocence:

“Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine.”

For Blake it is impossible to separate the two aspects of our lives and unwise even to seek to do so. It is only possible, as he puts it in the poem, to go safely through the world if we know that we are “made for joy and woe”, together. If we try to eliminate woe, or sadness, from our lives, we will go astray, if we are willing to carry our share of the burdens and care of the world upon our shoulders and yet to bear them with joy then we can do some good in the world. To live a life of joyful responsibility might release, if not a fountain of mirth to set a kingdom laughing, then perhaps at least a merry stream that bubbles up from the ground to water our families and maybe something wider than that.

“Fealty With Love, Valour With Honour, Oath-breaking With Vengeance.” Pippin Enters the Service of Denethor of Gondor.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991)

Pippin’s pride is aroused by the questions that Denethor asks him about the death of his son.

“And how did you escape, and yet he did not, so mighty a man as he was, and only orcs to withstand him?”

“Pippin flushed and forgot his fear.”

He answers boldly and yet courteously, speaking of his memory of Boromir’s courage against impossible odds, until pierced by many orc arrows, he fell; and how he, Pippin, and Merry were taken prisoner.

“But I honour his memory, for he was very valiant. He died to save us, my kinsman Meriadoc and myself, waylaid in the woods by the soldiery of the Dark Lord; and though he fell and failed, my gratitude is none the less.”

And then Pippin offers himself in service to Denethor, presenting the sword of Arnor that he took from the burial mound in the Barrow Downs near the Shire and Denethor accepts his offer.

“I accept your service. For you are not daunted by words; and you have courteous speech, strange though the sound of it may be to us in the South. And we shall have need of all folk of courtesy, be they great or small, in the days to come. Swear to me now.”

And so Pippin swears fealty and service to Gondor and to its Steward. It is a moving moment, a “gleam of cold sun on a winter’s evening”, as Tolkien puts it.

Pippin now belongs to another and no longer simply to himself. He has come to this point upon his journey carried first by the bonds of his friendship to Frodo and then to the other members of the Fellowship; but now he has taken another step, an irrevocable one, and he is no longer free to go where he wills. We are very much in the world of feudal relationships in a pre-modern, medieval, world in which identity was determined by the lord that you were in service to. And you cannot leave that service just because you tire of it or feel inclined to offer your services elsewhere. Denethor receives Pippin’s offer of service with these words:

“I will not forget it, nor fail to reward that which is given: fealty with love, value with honour, oath-breaking with vengeance.”

I wonder how many of my readers work in situations where the organisations for whom they work promise to reward their service with love and honour? We live in a world of contractual relationships and not a world of covenant. Contracts are impersonal affairs. Covenants are deeply personal, founded upon the relationships that one person has with another. This is why Denethor promises more than remuneration to Pippin. In fact there is no remuneration mentioned here at all, no compensation for the service that Pippin will offer. What Denethor offers is to love and to honour Pippin. It feels more like the promises made at a marriage.

But what about the threat of vengeance? Thankfully I can think of no wedding ceremony in which the threat of vengeance is even implied if faith is broken. Later in the story we will meet Beregond of the Guard, a wonderful embodiment of the promises that Pippin makes to Denethor. In his story Tolkien gives us both the very best of the medieval world view and through the terrible dilemma that Beregond faces calls that world view into question. Beregond will both break his oath to Denethor for which he will come under judgement and he will also be rewarded and honoured for his faithfulness to a principle that goes deeper than that of personal loyalty. And for this to happen will require the judgement of a lord to whom the deeper principle matters as much if not more than the principle of personal loyalty.

“Well done, good and faithful servant.” These words from the gospels exemplify the relationship between master and servant that Pippin enters into at his first meeting with Denethor. Indeed throughout the Middle Ages they provided a theological underpinning of that understanding. But it is worth remembering that they are the words of a master who wields absolute power and who takes terrible vengeance upon any who fail to match the standards of fealty that he requires. It may help short term profitability if those in a servant relationship are afraid of their master and the power that he yields but that same master might want to think about what a servant might do if he were to love and honour that servant without threat of vengeance. He might want to learn from Aragorn or from Faramir.

“What is Wrong With Strider?” Gandalf Gives Pippin a Rapid Briefing on Aragorn Just Before They Enter the Throne Room of Gondor.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 736-737

You would have thought that Gandalf would have briefed Pippin about Aragorn and his true identity some time before they went into the throne room of Gondor to meet Denethor. After all it is four days since he had set out from the camp at Dol Baran with Pippin seated in front of him on Shadowfax so there has been plenty of time to do so, but he did not. In fact he tells Pippin that it was his responsibility to learn something of the history of Gondor. But I rather think that Gandalf knows that Pippin only learns something, really learns it, when it is absolutely necessary for him to do so. Before that time comes for him all that he is told will go in through one ear and out of the other.

So as they go down a passage to the throne room Gandalf tells Pippin not to tell Denethor any more than is necessary about the death of Boromir, nothing about Frodo’s errand, and nothing about Aragorn.

“Why not?” asks Pippin guilelessly. “What is wrong with Strider?”

It is worth noting that Pippin still refers here to Aragorn as Strider, to the name by which Aragorn introduced himself to Frodo and his companions in the Prancing Pony in Bree. This is not some slip of the tongue on Pippin’s part. He never really gets to know Aragorn by any other name. Readers may remember that in the chapter entitled Flotsam and Jetsam as Merry and Pippin tell their story to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, Aragorn settles down with his pipe to listen to them and Pippin cries out: “Strider the Ranger has come back!” (Two Towers p.734). There will also be a moment later in the story after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields when Pippin will see Aragorn for the first time since leaving the camp in Rohan and will cry out in surprise and joy: “Strider! How splendid!” and Pippin’s familiarity will be a cause of some irritation at that moment for those who are just beginning to get used to the possibility that the warrior who arrived in the battle at just the right time might possibly be their king.

So to Pippin Aragorn always remains the man who befriended him and his friends in the inn at Bree. Perhaps Gandalf recognises this and so decides not to overcomplicate things with his young companion. Perhaps too, Gandalf knows that the real value that Pippin brings to his task is not his intelligence or subtlety but his innocence. After all Pippin would have to be a completely different and much older character even to begin to match Denethor in subtlety, and if he tried to do so the effort would be perceived so quickly that more harm might be done in the attempt than any good. Much better that Pippin simply keeps his mouth shut and comes before Denethor as he is. What touches Denethor, getting momentarily beneath his defences, is not Pippin’s cleverness but the moment when he pledges his service to Denethor in gratitude for Boromir’s sacrifice. After all Pippin always revered Boromir remembering how Boromir had laid down his life for him when he was captured by the orcs of Isengard.

Aragorn will have to take care of himself, how he will arrive in Minas Tirith and under what name. And when he does so he will even use Pippin’s over familiarity to his advantage. When the Prince of Dol Amroth acidly asks: “Is it thus that we speak to our kings?” Aragorn replies:

“Verily, for in the high tongue of old I am Elessar, the Elfstone, and Envinyatur, the Renewer… But Strider shall be the name of my house, if that ever be established. In the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be and all the heirs of my body (Return p.845)

So Gandalf trusts Aragorn to be Aragorn and I think we can also say with some confidence that he trusts Pippin to be Pippin and does not expect Pippin to be anything other than he is.

“Yet Now They Were Silent, and No Footsteps Rang on Their Wide Pavements, nor Voice Was Heard in Their Halls…” Pippin Journeys Through Minas Tirith, Falling into Decay.

/ stephencwinter / 6 Comments

The Return of The King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 733-736

One of the important things that a good reader of The Lord of the Rings will ask is whose eyes are we looking at this part of the story through? Sometimes a scene will be described in epic heroic language and we can imagine that we are listening to a bard in a royal mead hall, but usually we see the scene through the eyes of a hobbit, either Frodo or one of the three companions who set out from the Shire with him, and then we remember that Tolkien tells the story as one that he discovered in the Red Book of West March and which was an account of the adventures of Bilbo and then of Frodo and his friends, written by Bilbo, then Frodo and completed by Sam with the aid of Merry and Pippin.

In the last post on this blog we heard Gandalf’s prophetic words to the guards at the gates of Minas Tirith and now we journey up the seven levels of the city in the company of Gandalf and Pippin and soon realise that it is not Gandalf’s eyes through which we see the city but Pippin’s.

“Pippin gazed in growing wonder at the great stone city, vaster and more splendid than anything that he had dreamed of; greater and stronger than Isengard, and far more beautiful.”

Minas Tirith is the great achievement of the descendants of Númenor in Middle-earth, built by the followers of Elendil at the end of the Second Age as they escaped from the wreck of their homeland and established new kingdoms in Gondor and Arnor. Minas Tirith was first known as Minas Anor, the city of the Sun, which faced Minas Ithil, the city of the Moon, with Osgiliath, the city of starlight, the first capital of Gondor, that grew on the banks of the Anduin and whose bridges were a link between the sun and the moon and the two sides of the great river.

In the year 2002 in the Third Age, the Nazgûl captured Minas Ithil, renaming it Minas Morgul, the city of Black Magic, and Minas Anor was renamed becoming the City of the Guard, Minas Tirith, and so it remained until the War of the Ring in 3019, over a thousand years later.

Defence is a wearisome affair, especially when your whole identity is shaped by defying an enemy who are servants of darkness and of death. Was it because of this that, as the long years went by, the defenders of Minas Tirith slowly became enamoured of death themselves? Pippin sees a city that “lacks half the men that could have dwelt at ease there”. Year by year the city has fallen into decline and has become depopulated. As Pippin gazes upon the great houses of the city he sees many that are silent where “no footsteps rang on their wide pavements, nor voice was heard in their halls, nor any face looked out from door or empty window”.

Later, when Legolas and Gimli entered the city, after a Battle of the Pelennor Fields, Legolas made a similar observation to Pippin’s, remarking that “the houses are dead, and there is too little here that grows and is glad”. (ĹOTR p.854)

The defenders of Minas Tirith have long defied their enemies with great courage but they have lost the ability to be glad. They admire martial skills and so Boromir the warrior was their great hero, but nothing grows in the gardens of the city and too few children play there. Gandalf declared that the “end of the Gondor that you have known” had come, and it is likely that the gloom that had become the habitual state of mind of the defenders was merely deepened as they heard his words. But Gandalf was giving a message of hope and of renewal. Can Denethor, their lord, hear such a message, or does he even want to hear it? Is it possible that we can become so attached to our state of mind, even to our despair, that we do not wish to hear of hope when it is spoken to us, preferring the unhappiness that we have become used to, and even fearing a hope that will disturb, even sweep away, the existence in a grey half light to which we have become used? So Gandalf prepares for his meeting with the Steward of Gondor.

“Whatever Betide, You Have Come to the End of The Gondor That You Have Known.” Gandalf Enters the Gates of Minas Tirith and Declares Its Doom.

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The Return of The King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 733-735

There are many who fear the word, doom, believing it to be a word that speaks of destruction. And let us begin by saying that it does speak that way. Indeed it is a word that speaks of judgement and it is words of judgement that Gandalf speaks at the gates of Minas Tirith as he arrives there upon Shadowfax bearing Pippin before him.

The guards at the gate see Gandalf as the herald of war as is their belief about him and in reply to them he has no words of comfort for them.

The storm “is upon you,” he declares to them. “I have ridden upon its wings. Let me pass! I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts. Whatever betide, you have come to the end of the Gondor you have known.”

This is the end of the Third Age of the world. Its terrible climax as Sauron reaches out his hand seeking to bring all things under his rule and domination, lacking only the ruling Ring to make his victory absolutely complete. If he triumphs, as Galadriel said to Frodo after he had looked into her mirror “then we are laid bare to the Enemy.” But if Frodo succeeds in his mission “then our power is diminished, and Lothlórien will fade, and the tides of Time will sweep it away”.

I speak here of the ending of the time of the Elves in Middle-earth but what of Gondor? In what way will its end have come? Surely if Frodo succeeds in destroying the Ring then Sauron will fall and Gondor will triumph being free from its greatest foe forever?

The clue to understanding what Gandalf says to the guards lies in his reference to the Lord Denethor, the Steward of Gondor. “I must come to your Lord Denethor, while his stewardship lasts.” Gandalf is not prophesying the particular end to which Denethor will come on the day of the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. It is the return of the king to which he alludes here. Aragorn, the Lord Elessar, is making his way to the city even as Gandalf speaks, and either he will fall with Gondor or he will claim its crown as its rightful lord. The Gondor that its people have known for many centuries will come to an end either in defeat or triumph.

The Return of the King, the final volume of The Lord of the Rings, is a story of endings and new beginnings. Of course there is the ending of the great evil, the shadow that has oppressed the peoples of Middle-earth for many long years. As Sam will ask as he wakes at the Field of Cormallen: “Is everything sad going to come untrue? What’s happened to the world?” And one sadness has indeed “come untrue”, but not all that is sad. Lothlórien will fade as the power of the Three Elven Rings will fade with the destruction of the One Ring, and their keepers, Galadriel, Elrond and Gandalf, will depart from Middle-earth, and with them will depart the enchantment, the song that Sam felt himself to be a part of in Lothlórien, with which they enriched the world. The disenchanted world in which we live, the burden that we must bear, is in part the fruit of Frodo’s triumph. How much would the readers of Tolkien’s great tales wish to be able to walk into the enchanted lands of Lothlórien and Rivendell in the clear light of day even as Frodo and his companions were able to do, but all we can do is to catch glimpses of Faerie and to carry them in our hearts in the diminished world that is the one in which we live, learning perhaps the art of re-enchantment as we bring what we have glimpsed to the task of ordinary life, to find “heaven in ordinary”, as George Herbert puts it in his poem, Prayer.

And so too will the Gondor that its people have known pass away, and we will journey with its steward, in his sad attachment to what has long been passing away under his watch. We will see that not all will welcome the possibility of renewal but will reject it. But renewal will come, even though much will be lost, and some will embrace it, even while they bear the loss of much that was beautiful.