“If You Had Received This Thing, It Would Have Overthrown You.” Because Denethor Desires the Victory of Gondor Above Everything He Has Not the Strength to Resist the Ring.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 793-796

In the last piece on this blog I thought about how Faramir refused to think of the struggle against Sauron simply in terms of winning and losing. For him it was not enough just to want the victory of Gondor. If Gondor were to win by doing evil, for Faramir this would not be a victory worth having. A victory achieved by evil means would mean that evil would be the victor and good would be defeated.

There have been many critics of Tolkien’s work who have dismissed it as a nothing more than a struggle between good and evil, as if such a struggle is merely something banal, and nothing that is at all noteworthy. I suspect that they never read this scene with its debate between father and son, between Denethor and Faramir. For once you have understood the debate it becomes so much harder to say something like, “my country right or wrong”.

We first saw the debate in Faramir when he first met Frodo and Sam. When once he had satisfied himself that the hobbits were not servants of the enemy, or that they had been involved in some way in the death of Boromir, his brother, he began to share with them his own personal philosophy recognising perhaps, particularly in Frodo, one who might be a friend to his soul, to the deepest level of his being. Perhaps it was the same thing that led Goldberry to recognise Frodo as an “Elf-friend”.

And in sharing his personal philosophy we learnt this. That Faramir had no desire merely for Gondor’s greatness. Of course he works for victory, but this is how he understands it.

“I would see the White Tree in flower again in the courts of the kings, and the Silver Crown return, and Minas Tirith in peace: Minas Anor again as of old, full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of many slaves, nay not even a kind mistress of willing slaves… I would have her loved for her memory, her ancientry, her beauty, and her present wisdom”.

I hope that you noticed that phrase: “Not a mistress of many slaves, nay not even a kind mistress of many slaves”. This is so far from his father’s philosophy. It is so far from, “my country right or wrong”.

Denethor may say that he knows that to use the Ring is perilous. He is no fool and has insight into the malignant power of the Ring. But he overestimates his own power to master it. What would he do with the Ring?

“It should have been kept, hidden, hidden dark and deep. Not used, I say, unless at the uttermost end of need”.

And with those words, “the uttermost end of need” we see how Denethor would inevitably fall were the Ring to come to him. We know that Denethor would inevitably judge at some point in the war that the “uttermost end of need” had indeed come. He would judge that defeat was inevitable. Indeed he has almost reached this point already. Then he would take the Ring and attempt to use it against its maker, but his strength would not be enough. Neither strength to use the Ring to defeat the Enemy, nor strength to master the Ring itself and not to mastered by it. As Gandalf says to him:

“You are strong and can still in some matters govern yourself, Denethor; yet if you had received this thing, it would have overthrown you. Were it buried beneath the roots of Mindolluin, still it would burn your mind away, as the darkness grows, and the yet worse things follow that soon shall come upon us.”

Even now, the Ring is burning Denethor’s mind away, even though he does not possess it, just as it burns Saruman’s mind, and Gollum’s for that matter. Simply the desire to possess it and to possess the power that it can give is enough. It is this that is slowly overthrowing Denethor and which Faramir has overcome because Faramir has already won the great victory. He has chosen what is the highest and the best, what is good and beautiful and true.

“Ever Your Desire is To Appear Lordly and Generous as a King of Old”. Is This True of Faramir? What is The Difference Between Appearance and Reality?

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The Return of The King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 793-796

The words in this title are spoken by Denethor to Faramir. They are spoken in the private chamber of the Steward of Gondor and as well as Denethor and Faramir, Gandalf and Pippin are present too. That these characters should be gathered together at this meeting is not just a useful plot device. We all know by now that the story that Tolkien tells is almost always told through the eyes of the hobbits. There are very few scenes in the story in which one or another of them is not present. But Denethor has other reasons why he wants a hobbit present now. He is an intelligence gatherer, always seeking to build the most comprehensive picture of events possible. Later on we will learn that this desire almost cripples him as a man of action, but now it is enough to know that Pippin, the halfling out of ” northern legends” needs to be present. Denethor wants him there.

And it is there that he learns, along with Denethor and Gandalf, of Faramir’s encounter with Frodo and Sam in Ithilien, and how, just two days before the hobbits had set off with Gollum as their guide to the Morgul Vale and to Cirith Ungol. Gandalf makes little effort to hide his interest, indeed to hide his concern. It is the welfare of Frodo and Sam that matters most to him at this moment, and with their welfare the welfare of their mission, and the welfare of the world.

Denethor has other concerns. For him the issue that matters most is the welfare of Gondor. How can Gondor survive the attack that it is about to meet? How can Gondor emerge victorious from this war? Compared to those questions every other matter is of little or no importance. We will think more about this in a later blog, especially when we think about the Ring of Power, that we know is now on its way into Mordor, and which, for a little while, was in Faramir’s hands, even though he never even wished to look upon it.

But now we are thinking of Faramir himself. In the last two pieces that I wrote on this blog I wrote about him as a leader of men, about how his men would follow him, trust him, even in the most dangerous of circumstances. How his men would feel themselves greater than they really were, how they would know themselves as faithful. But what manner of man is this leader? Denethor shows what he thinks about this here.

“I know you well. Ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle. This may well befit one of high race, if he sits in power and peace. But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death.”

Denethor might be speaking of contemporary politics here. Indeed he is effectively accusing Faramir of playing a political game, of making a bid for power. He is aware of how his son is regarded by the people of Gondor. They may respect the Lord of the Tower but they love his son. We may never see a popularity poll in Gondor. Such things did not exist. But if they did it would probably show that Faramir is more popular than Denethor. How could he not be when in full view of the walls of Minas Tirith, the nearest that Gondor could come to a live broadcast, they watch him risk his own life to save that of his men? No wonder that crowds gathered at the gate to cheer for him and for Gandalf.

But we have seen enough of Faramir to know that his character and his appearance are of one kind, of one reality. He is as he appears to be. He appears “lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle” because that is what he truly is. For him this is not a luxury that belongs to a time of leisure, a pleasant thing to be cast aside when times are desperate, as Denethor puts it. He believes that victory for Gondor only has meaning if Gondor lives up to its highest qualities. Can there be ever victory for its own sake, victory because the only thing that matters is that our side rather than our opponents are the winners? If we win but behave like orcs, then the orcs have won, whoever may win the actual battle. Faramir refuses to think like this, and he refuses to act like this. He may never become a king but he behaves as a true king and not a false one.

“A Captain That Men Would Follow.” Some More Thoughts on Faramir of Gondor and Leadership.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 790-793

I attended a workshop during the last week on the subject of Peace during which the facilitator asked us to imagine a situation in which Vladimir Putin, that is the Russian military, were to appear on the horizon. She then asked us what we do. Would we fight? I was fairly sure that I would despite my advancing years. There is so much that I love that I would want to defend, and the actions of the Russian military in Ukraine have taught me that they would show little mercy if they were to succeed in conquering my country or any part of it.

But then our workshop leader asked another question. Would I send my children to fight? Immediately I knew in my gut that this was a completely different question altogether, and as I pondered it, and am still pondering it, I knew that the reason why it was different centred around that word, sent. Could I send my children, in this case, my two daughters, into danger? This isn’t just a matter of gender. I am perfectly aware that women as well as men are participants in modern warfare. But I want to argue here is that there is a big difference between sending and leading. Quite literally, a leader goes in front of those who follow but sending is something quite different.

Pippin recognises this quality of the leader in Faramir when he meets him for the first time. As we saw in the last post, he knows that Faramir “is a captain that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings.” He has already seen Faramir go back to give aid to his men who had been thrown from their horses after the attack by the Nazgûl riding upon their steeds of the air. He could have chosen to flee for his life and to abandon his men. He could have argued that it was more important that the heir to the Steward of Gondor owed it to his people to preserve his own life, even at the cost of his men, but he does not do this. Beregond was not surprised. This is what he expects of his captain. But he does not take what Faramir does for granted. He honours, even loves his captain, for that is what a captain who leads and does not send inspires in his followers.

Denethor recognises the difference himself. At a later point in the story, he is together in the tower with Gandalf and Pippin and speaks of the Dark Lord who will wait in Barad-dur until victory is won by his armies.

“So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit here in my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons?” (The Return of the King p.800)

And so, we have this contrast through the story. Théoden leads his men into battle, transforming them from a beaten rabble into a mighty army simply by virtue of his presence at their head. Aragorn leads his followers even on the Paths of the Dead because he goes at their head and does not send them. Dáin Ironfoot and Brand of Dale fall at the head of their men at the gates of Erebor repelling the attack of the forces of Mordor, just as Thorin Oakenshield fell at the Battle of the Five Armies as recorded in The Hobbit.

So I return to the question with which I began these thoughts. Would I fight if an enemy attacked my country? All my instincts say to me that I would. I would fight in order to protect all that I love, and above all, I would fight to protect my family even if it proved to be a fight in vain. But would I send my children to fight, even as a country might send its sons and daughters to fight for it? With the same desire to protect my own children I could never send them to take any risk that I was not first willing to take. I could never make them stand in front of me, but I would always be willing to stand between them and danger. This, I believe, is what it means to lead.

And there is one last word, as my friend and commentator, Kate Splieth, pointed out to me this week, a word that we can use in addition to leading and sending and maybe it is the best word of all. It is the word, with, a word that we know we can use concerning Faramir. His men know that he will always be with them, and they love him for this above all. And it is the word most used in the gospels about the relationship of God with God’s people. “And lo I am with you always…”

“He Was a Captain That Men Would Follow, That He Would Follow, Even Under the Shadow of The Black Wings.” Some Thoughts on Leadership as Faramir Returns to Minas Tirith.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 788-793

“How are the people to know they are faithful, unless their captains tell them?” So wrote Richard Hooker, the Anglican theologian of the 16th and early 17th century who wrote the first major defence of the newly established Church of England under the reign of Queen Elizabeth I.

I don’t think that Pippin is a thinker, one given to deep reflection, but he has a good and faithful heart, and he needs to know that he is doing something right and of value. And that is the last thing that he feels that he is doing as he waits for war to break upon him. He may have been dressed in the livery of the Guard of the Tower, a high honour in Gondor. He may too have the honour of waiting upon the Steward of Gondor as his esquire. But deep down he feels of little use.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks Gandalf. And the answer that Gandalf gives to him brings him little comfort.

“You know quite well… To keep you out of mischief; and if you do not like being here, you can remember that you brought it upon yourself.”

Gandalf, of course, is speaking of the incident in which Pippin looked into the Stone of Orthanc and so saw Sauron himself and nearly gave away the whole mission of the Fellowship of the Ring. Much good came of that but it was all unintended, certainly by Pippin. He is no traitor, but he has been very foolish, and Gandalf intends that he should not forget this and so he might learn every lesson that he can from his foolishness.

Pippin feels a very small and insignificant figure among many great captains. There is Gandalf, of course, and then there is the frightening figure of Denethor, and the mighty Aragorn. But then comes the Lord Faramir, and Pippin responds to him in a way that he does not to any of the mighty ones that I have just mentioned.

Faramir is first seen leading his men towards the gate of Minas Tirith across the Pelennor Field, and as he does so, he is attacked by five fell riders of the air, by five Nazgûl riding upon their terrible steeds that swoop down upon the retreating soldiers. All the horses of Faramir’s men rear in terror and throw their riders but Faramir is able to master his and to return to the aid of the others. But for all his courage all would have been lost had it not been that Gandalf rode towards them upon Shadowfax and with a shaft of white light rising upwards from his hand drove away the attackers and so brought the soldiers safely back to the city.

All within the city walls are stirred by what they have witnessed and many rush to the gate where Gandalf and Faramir enter. Pippin is among them and when he reaches the gate he sees Faramir at close quarters for the very first time.

“Pippin pressed forward as they passed under the lamp beneath the gate-arch, and when he saw the pale face of Faramir he caught his breath. It was the face who has been assailed by a great fear or anguish, but has mastered it and now is quiet.”

Pippin is immediately reminded of Boromir, Faramir’s brother, who died in Pippin’s defence and who Pippin liked and admired. But I think there is something more that is happening here. As Pippin gazes upon Faramir’s face we read:

“He knew now why Beregond spoke his name with love. He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings.”

And I know that I would have followed such a captain too when I was a young man. I have met some leaders for whom I have had considerable respect, even some that I would have loved to be picked out by and to follow them on some great venture, but I am not sure that I have ever met a Faramir. I wish that I had. I wonder if Tolkien ever did, or did the character of Faramir that he created, that he unexpectedly discovered as he wrote The Lord of the Rings, represent someone that he wished that he could have met.

It is such a captain to whom the people will always look in order to know that they are faithful and of worth. Happy the people who can find such a captain especially in time of need.

“Where Will Wants Not, a Way Opens, So We Say.” Dernhelm the Young Warrior Takes Merry into Battle.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 785-787

One of the greatest challenges that faces any person is not to pass the pain that they have faced onto another. So it is for each one of us, for all of us must endure pain at some point in our lives, whether in body, soul or spirit, or all three together. And so it is for Éowyn, sister-daughter of Théoden. She has long borne the pain of being forced to gaze helplessly upon her uncle’s long decline into dotage at the hands of Grima Wormtongue, and then as hope is suddenly rekindled in her heart at the sudden healing of Théoden, and even more as she falls in love with the greatest man of the age, Aragorn, the Heir of Isildur, the possibility of freedom and glory opens up before her. Then just as suddenly all is dashed from her grasp.

Aragorn takes the hopeless road, the Paths of the Dead, that no-one has ever passed, and what is worse, he will not take her with him. She must “do her duty” to her lord and king and to her people, attending as lady of her people to all the hearths that will await the men on their return from battle or, if they do not return, awaiting her fate and bearing it as bravely as she can. All the women, children and those too old to fight, do so in the best manner they can. Tolkien turns to the rhythm of speech of his Old English ancestors in order to speak of them:

“They were a stern people, loyal to their lord, and little weeping or murmuring was heard”.

Each woman and child does what is expected of them, what they have long been trained to do.

But there are two people who do not wish to stay behind. Meriadoc Brandybuck, swordthain of Rohan, feels shame as he thinks about having to stay with the women, the children, and the elderly while the warriors go to war, while his closest friends are putting their lives in mortal danger. He has to accept the reasons that Théoden has given to him, that Stybba, the pony small enough for him to ride alongside the king in the gentle pace of a journey along mountain paths will never be able to keep pace with the steeds of the Rohirrim or be able to join the charge of knights before the gates of Minas Tirith. He understands this but it cannot erase the dishonour he feels.

And Éowyn feels the cage that she fears closing round her once more and the rejection by Aragorn that leaves her with the feeling that there is no future, no hope for her beyond the fate of the women who “have leave to be burned in the house” when the men do not return from the war. She sees nothing beyond death in a burning house and so she chooses death in battle, taking on the disguise of a young warrior and the name of Dernhelm.

But even in her despair her heart is able to go out to another. She recognises in the young hobbit a fellow sufferer, one who is condemned to dishonour as he like her is left behind. As he watches the riders preparing to break camp a young Rider comes alongside him, one that he thinks he recognises but whose name he does not know. And the Rider speaks softly to him.

“Where will wants not, a way opens, so we say,” the Rider says… “You wish to go wither the Lord of the Mark goes. I see it in your face.”

And so Éowyn takes Merry secretly with her into battle. She may have been wrapped in anger and despair but she is still able to recognise the same feeling in another and to reach out to him. This does not begin a friendship. They never speak on the ride into Gondor. But in their silence they are able to grant strength to one another. And perhaps for Éowyn this reaching out to another in their pain, even within her own, a keeping open of her broken heart and not closing it against the world and its suffering, perhaps this is the beginning of her long journey towards healing

“Take All These Things and Bear Them to Good Fortune!” Merry and The Importance of Being Dressed For Battle.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 784-785

The last reference in The Lord of the Rings to the livery of a warrior is not particularly complimentary. Sam arrives at the home of the Cotton family who have provided shelter to his father after his forced eviction from Bag End. By this point in the story he has probably become so accustomed to wearing the gear of warfare that he hardly recognises that he is wearing it anymore. But his father does, and the magnificence of his son’s attire does not impress him. In fact, as far as the Gaffer is concerned, he has simply been presented with yet one more example of his son’s tendency to have ideas above his station, the kind of moral laxity that probably began with being taught “his letters” by Mr. Bilbo Baggins.

“What’s become of his weskit?” the Gaffer asks of Frodo. “I don’t hold with wearing ironmongery, whether it wears well or no.”

The Gaffer may not be impressed by what he sees but the hobbits of the Shire most certainly are. Rosie Cotton’s eyes are shining as she looks at her man and hears the words that Frodo speaks in praise of him, and the hobbits who have collaborated first with Lotho Sackville-Baggins and then with Sharkey are clearly intimidated, both by Sam and by Merry and Pippin. For each one of them are arrayed in the war gear of Gondor and of Rohan.

The livery that each of Frodo’s companions wear carries with it the status afforded to one who wears it. We remember the magnificent appearance of Hirgon, messenger of Gondor, as he bears the message from Denethor, his lord, to Théoden of Rohan. Immediately all know, as they look upon the magnificence of the Herald of Gondor, that what he bears is of the greatest importance, and Hirgon knows it too. The clothes he wears give him pride in his lord, in his people, in himself as their messenger, and in the message that he bears.

In a later chapter we will see Pippin arrayed in the livery of the Guard of the White Tower of Minas Tirith. He too must be dressed appropriately for the work that he must do in the service of the Steward of Gondor. And here in the passage that we are thinking about this week we learn how Théoden tells Merry that because he is unable to ride one of the great war-horses of Rohan, he will not be coming with the Rohirrim in the great ride to Minas Tirith. Then Éowyn takes him aside and tells him that Aragorn had asked her to do just one thing before he left to take the Paths of the Dead and that was that Merry “should be armed for battle”, and then she gave him, “a stout jerkin of leather, a belt and a knife”; the gear that a foot soldier would wear and not one of the knights of Rohan who wore mail shirts into battle. And she gave Merry a shield and a small helm, but not a sword, for Merry had carried a sword since the night of his captivity in the barrow close by the house of Tom Bombadil.

It is arrayed in this simple gear that Merry will accompany Éowyn in secret, in her disguise as Dernhelm, on the great ride, and it will be his sword of Westernesse that will strike the blow that will enable Éowyn to kill the Witch-King of Angmar. So each of the hobbits take the journey to valiant manhood and are recognised as men by their fellow hobbits, both friend and foe, when they lead the uprising that ends the occupation of the Shire by Saruman and his lackeys.

It may be that in watching them as they are arrayed for war that readers will recognise the delight that small boys take in dressing up for games of war. Some may even think that when grown men dress likewise in this or any other uniform for work that this is a sign of their immaturity; a failure to outgrow childish games. But in their seminal work on the male psyche, King, Warrior, Magician, Lover, Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette identify four fundamental male energies, each of which can be developed either into mature or immature forms. Unbeknown, especially to themselves, Merry and Pippin, and Sam also, are growing into mature warriors who will be able to free the Shire and the enslaved hobbits from slavery and then lead them into an age of prosperity. You will note that I have not mentioned Frodo here. He takes a different path, and we will speak of that many times in future posts.

“So We Come To It in The End… The Great Battle of Our Time, in Which Many Things Shall Pass Away.” A Great Cloud Comes From Mordor That Simplifies The Mind of Théoden.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 783-784

When Merry is awakened at dawn after the coming of the Herald of Gondor he wonders why he has been called by the King in the middle of the night.

“Flinging on some clothes, Merry looked outside. The world was darkling. The very air seemed brown, and all things about were black and grey and shadowless; there was a great stillness. No shape of cloud could be seen, unless it were far away westward, where the furthest groping fingers of the great gloom still crawled onwards, and a little light leaked through them. Overhead there hung a heavy roof, sombre and featureless, and light seemed to failing than growing.”

The coming of the cloud from Mordor is one of the most terrible images of The Lord of the Rings, symbolising as Sauron intended it to do, his absolute intention to rule over all things. For while the cloud has a practical purpose in that it provides a cover for the orcs who will make up the main body of Sauron’s army, and who dislike, even hate the brightness of the sun, it also displays the Dark Lord’s totalising intent, his desire to “bring them all, and in the darkness bind them”. He wishes to rule over all things, even the weather of the world.

The date is the 10th of March, “The Dawnless Day”, the day upon which the host of Minas Morgul sets forth to war in Gondor led by the Lord of the Nazgûl, the Witch-King of Angmar. It is the first day of Pippin’s brief service of the Steward of Gondor, a day upon which he is arrayed in the livery of the White Tower. It is the day upon which Merry is told by Théoden that he will not be riding with the Rohirrim to Minas Tirith, but that he is to remain in Rohan; but it is the day upon which Eowyn arrays him for battle. It is one of the darkest days of the whole story.

But it is a day that brings a great simplicity to the mind and heart of Théoden. For when Hirgon had asked him to bring all his strength to Minas Tirith and to come as swiftly as he can he had replied with caution, knowing that his rear needed defence against attack and that his advance guard needed to proceed with care. These are all the usual and necessary precautions that any general must take in order to reduce as much, if possible, any unnecessary losses, and to take thought for the security of what lies behind him as well as what lies before. But one set of circumstances takes away all reason for caution and that is the circumstance in which all choice is taken away except for the choice to throw everything away in one last desperate action. We call it the moment in which we have nothing left to lose, and Théoden knows that this moment has come.

“So we have come to it in the end,” he said: “the great battle of our time, in which many things will pass away. But at least there is no longer any need for hiding. We will ride the straight way and the open road and with all our speed.”

Théoden has come to that moment that is the “condition of complete simplicity”, as T.S Eliot named it in his Four Quartets. It is the moment that is expressed in Christian thought by the cross, the moment when everything has to be given away, even life itself. As Eliot himself continued in his poem, it is a condition that “costs not less than everything.” Théoden knows that he has come to that moment, the moment in which darkness seems to have triumphed completely, and so he gives everything of himself and of his people.

But even at this moment of the most terrible simplicity there is something deeper at work that almost no-one is able to see in this darkness. For it is on this day on which Frodo comes with Gollum and Sam to the Crossroads and begins his own intentional journey into the dark. It is there that he sees the statue of the fallen king, defaced by the obscene graffiti of the orcs, and sees it crowned with a circlet of wildflowers, and it is at that moment that the sun dips beneath the darkness from Mordor and illuminates the scene that Frodo can see. And as he gazes upon this beauty he cries out, “They cannot conquer forever!”

Perhaps he is the only one to experience such a moment of illumination even as the sun disappears, but what he sees, if only for a moment, is what Eliot goes onto say after speaking of the terrible condition of “complete simplicity”.

And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well

“The Red Arrow Has Not Been Seen in The Mark in All My Years.” Rohan Receives The Call for Aid From Gondor. The Importance of Strong Ritual.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins) pp. 781-783

The arrival of Hirgon, the messenger of Denethor, is one of those beautiful set pieces beloved of story tellers and story hearers of the Middle Ages. Those who know the story through Peter Jackson’s films will remember how the message comes to Rohan by means of lit beacons upon the mountain tops, It is a beautiful scene as the message seems to leap from one mountain to another, but a message of such import requires more than the efficiency and speed of lit beacons. It requires the power that can be conveyed only by ritual, by due ceremony.

We will live in an age that has been, in many ways, de-ritualised. Because we do not require rituals as entry points to significant aspects of life, such as long term relationships, it is easier to do without them altogether, In many ways one can understand, and sympathise with, the critique of the way in which past generations abused those rituals and the institutions they underpinned. I think of the forced marriages within my own family history and the story of unhappiness that followed, an unhappiness that continued for generations, and I do not blame the generation of my children for their caution in either entering an institution that has been socially enforced and the rituals that underpinned that institution. I also regret the commercialisation of the ritual of marriage and the sense that in order to marry a couple and their family will have to spend a considerable sum of money to fulfil social expectations. But when the ritual connected to marriage is drained of all its potency something of great import is taken from the institution and the life that the institution is meant to sustain. Perhaps we might say that we have forgotten that marriage exists for the sake of human flourishing and that human flourishing does not exist for the sake of institutions, even those as important as marriage,

But let us return to the scene in which Hirgon, the messenger of Denethor, appears at the camp of the Rohirrim bearing the Red Arrow. We note the pride with which he holds himself even as he pays all due respect to the King of Rohan and to the people that he leads. He is the servant of the Steward of Gondor, a mighty lord. We note also the importance that the King of Rohan attaches to Hirgon’s mission.

“The Red Arrow!.. The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years! Has it indeed come to that?”

The Red Arrow is the visible and outward sign of an inner reality. It serves to remind Théoden of the oath made by his mighty ancestor, Eorl, to Cirion, the Steward of Gondor, at the tomb of Elendil, that in return for the gift of the land of Calenardhon he and his descendants would always come to the aid of Gondor in its need. And we also note that Gondor has never abused this oath. As Théoden himself declares, “The Red Arrow has not been seen in the Mark in all my years!” Denethor was not in the habit of seeking the aid of his closest ally as a matter of course, such as the fight for the crossing of the Anduin at Osgiliath for example. He asks for it now at Gondor’s greatest need, but not before.

So Hirgon kneels before the King of Rohan and declares his mission.

“Gondor is in great need. Often the Rohirrim have aided us, but now the Lord Denethor asks for all your strength and all your speed, lest Gondor fall at last”

There will be some negotiation. Rohan’s pride requires it. Théoden cannot and must not be taken for granted even though it is already his intention to come to the aid of Gondor. When he rides into battle he needs everyone of those who follow him to do so willingly and so each one of them needs to know that their lord does also and that he is held in the highest honour by Gondor and not regarded as a mere vassal. Perhaps certain alliances of our own time would be the stronger if the most powerful of their members were to remember this.

All of this is made the stronger by the enacting of strong ritual. Those who stand by their king see how he is treated by Gondor and how he in turn treats the messenger of Denethor. They see the respect with each addresses the other, and that story will be passed between every warrior who gathers to make the ride to Minas Tirith and will give strength to each one of them. That is what strong ritual is able to give.

“The Way is Shut… It Was Made by Those Who Are Dead, and The Dead Keep It, Until The Time Comes.” How Can We Know the Proper Time for Things?

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 775-781

The words in the title for this piece were spoken long before the events described here. Brego, the second King of Rohan, went up the steep path out of the Harrowdale with Baldor his son, that had been cut from the rock in an age long before the arrival of the Rohirrim, the Eorlingas, to the lands where now they dwell. At the door in the mountain they met an ancient man who spoke the words to them before breathing his last.

As we have seen, Baldor decided to dare the door and was seen no more until Aragorn discovered his body within the mountain on the Paths of the Dead, and since that time no one had dared try the door until Aragorn does.

Éowyn tells the company of how Aragorn has passed through the door, “into the shadow from which none have returned”. Éomer’s heart falls as he hears his sister’s words.

“He is lost. We must ride without him, and our hope dwindles.”

But it is Théoden who reminds his companions of the story that we have read, the story of the words spoken to his forefathers, that the Dead keep the way, “until the time comes.”

Has that time come?

We know that Aragorn and the Grey Company have indeed passed through the Door, and that the Dead did not prevent him from doing so but heard his voice and followed him to the Stone of Erech where he called them to fulfil the oath that once they made to Isildur and then broke it. We know that the time has come, and Théoden himself says that Aragorn is “a kingly man of high destiny”, and one that might be able to do a deed that no-one else has dared. But Éomer is not persuaded. Perhaps such a man as Aragorn might be able to dare the Door but to what purpose? To him the way that Aragorn has gone is no more than a private quest, and maybe one that a great hero might endeavour, but surely there are other things to be done?

“Alas that a fey mood should fall on a man so greathearted in this hour of need! Are there not evil things enough abroad without seeking them under the earth? War is at hand.”

Éomer does not know the story that Aragorn does. Nor does he know that Aragorn made his choice because he believed that unless he did so he would not arrive at Minas Tirith in time, and that even if he did get there with the Rohirrim it would be fruitless because the Corsairs of Umbar would be able to sail up the Anduin unopposed and so the Rohirrim would come to a city that had already fallen.

But let us not think of such things now. The question I wish to consider here is the one posed in the title of this piece. How can we ever know the proper time to undertake a particular action? As Éomer says rightly, the only way to find out if the time has come to try the Door is to try it.

The whole of The Lord of the Rings is a story of grasping opportunities as they arise. At the heart of this, of course, is the One Ring itself. Suddenly, and entirely unexpectedly, the Ring that all had believed to be lost appears in the hands of a hobbit. Some, like Gandalf, were prepared for the reappearance of the Ring. No-one expected the Ring to appear in the manner that it did. Gandalf knows that the only thing to do with the Ring is to destroy it. What even he does not expect is that he will find a willing ally in the person of Frodo Baggins, and that this hobbit of the Shire is at first excited to make a journey out of the Shire, and then, against his own wishes but for the sake of his fellows, to offer his very self as Ringbearer.

Everyone at the heart of the story knows that the stakes are so high that everything must be risked in order to destroy the Ring and that every other ambition, however noble, must be set aside for that purpose. So, Aragorn risks everything for this ultimate purpose, while Éomer does not yet know of that purpose and so thinks in terms of important but lesser things, such as his fealty to his king and faithfulness to an ancient oath. Later he will be invited to the Final Debate and learn of higher things. For now, this is enough for him to act as he must do.

“Speak Not The Soft Words of Wormtongue in My Old Ears”. Théoden Thinks About Ageing and Death in Harrowdale.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) p. 775

As Merry turns his thoughts to Frodo and Sam at the end of the journey from the Hornburg to Harrowdale, Théoden makes ready for the great ride of the Rohirrim to Minas Tirith. Éomer is glad that this journey is over, but Théoden now thinks only of what lies ahead.

“This journey is over, maybe… but I have far yet to go. Last night the moon was full, and in the morning I shall ride to Edoras to the gathering of the Mark.”

Théoden may be thinking of the battle that lies ahead but Éomer has different thoughts in mind. What he sees in front of him is an old man. Perhaps the days when Théoden was confined to his chair in the golden hall of Meduseld have had a greater influence upon him than he realises.

“If you would take my counsel,” he says to the king, “you would then return hither, until the war is over, lost or won.”

In other words, though Éomer does not speak them out loud, you should take no part in the battle that lies ahead. It is time for you to rest, old man.

Théoden is seventy-one years old at the time of the events of The Lord of the Rings, and I am the same age as he was then. Would I listen to Éomer’s counsel and leave the battle to younger men? Or would I listen to Théoden who replies to his nephew, gently but firmly.

“Nay, my son, for so I will call you, speak not the soft words of Wormtongue in my old ears… Long years in the space of days it seems since I rode west; but never will I lean on a staff again. If the war is lost, what good will be my hiding in the hills? And if it is won, what grief will it be, even if I fall, spending my last strength?”

Théoden speaks more gently to Éomer than Jesus did to Peter when Peter tried to counsel him not to lay down his life in Jerusalem. Jesus told Peter to “get behind me, Satan!” But Théoden is just as firm in his intent and conviction as Jesus was. Do not try to prevent me from doing what I have to do, he says to his nephew. “The soft words of Wormtongue” were spoken in order to prevent Théoden from taking action against Saruman. They may have been cloaked in expressions of concern for an old man, offering kind advice to him not to overdo things, to conserve his strength, to look after himself, but Wormtongue’s true intention was to rob that old man of his capacity for any action at all.

And what of Théoden’s words to Éomer? What is the point in my hiding in the hills while my men go into battle? If we lose then death will come to me soon. If we win and I fall in the battle, what sadness will it be that I fell? My death in victory or defeat will be a good death, far better than any that might await me in the future if I only hide away in the hills.

And so it proves. The funeral of Théoden after the events of the War of the Ring is the most glorious of any King of Rohan. The memory in which he will be held thereafter will bring pride to the hearts of all his people.

And what do his words speak to all of us as we grow older? To those of us in our later years? Perhaps we should begin with caution. It is one thing in any of us to speak bold words, but it is another to fulfil them. If Théoden had, through weakness, delayed the ride of the Rohirrim to Minas Tirith, asking them to give him time to rest instead of riding on, his words would have no meaning at all. He must spend his strength with the best of his men, showing leadership at their head and not in the rear. If it is a feeble old man who leads the charge at the Pelennor Fields that might inspire pity but not courage. The leader that inspires others is one who lays down their life for the people. At the battle Théoden seizes a horn from his banner-bearer and blows such a blast upon it that it bursts asunder. He may be advanced in years but what strength he has he spends for those who follow him.

It may be given to few of us to lead a charge in battle in our later years but the call to pour out our lives and not to preserve them into decrepit senility as Wormtongue tried to persuade his master to do is a challenge to each one of us.