The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 942-944
Tolkien knew, perhaps more than almost anyone, that language is far far more than merely sounds that convey meaning. I say, almost anyone, because it was his fellow Inkling, Owen Barfield, whose work on language had the greatest influence upon him. In later years Tolkien would say that he would be giving a lecture when he would recall something that Barfield had said about the same thing and realise that he must correct what he had been about to say.
Barfield’s great contribution to the study of language was to say that the history of language was a history of human experience and that at one time, and in the experience of first nation peoples even to this day, language was a participation in life.
But I do not know if Barfield was able to experience language as Tolkien did. Those who knew Tolkien well said that he could read an ancient text in many languages and sensually enter and participate in the very world from which that text first came.
So it was that just before the outbreak of the First World War in 1914, when he was still an undergraduate at Exeter College, Oxford, Tolkien read these words in Old English and that never escaped their hold upon him for the rest of his life.
Eala earendel, engla beorhtast, ofer middangeard monum sended.
O, Earendel, brightest of angels, sent to men above Middle-earth.
Earendel is the evening and the morning star, or the planet Venus as we would call her. The brightest of heavenly bodies as we perceive them after the sun and the moon. And when Tolkien read these words he entered the dark world illumined by the light of the star that journeyed from dusk until dawn and felt that light calling to his heart.
O Earendel, brightest of angels.
In Tolkien’s legendarium Earendel becomes Eärendil, a figure who makes the forbidden journey from Middle-earth to Valinor in order to plead with the Valar for aid against Morgoth. The Valar hear his prayer and Morgoth is cast down and the children of Iluvatar set free from bondage. On his journey to Valinor Eärendil took with him the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien took from Morgoth’s iron crown, one of three jewels, made by Feänor, that contained the light of the two trees, Telperion and Laurelin, that Morgoth and Ungoliant, mother of Shelob, destroyed. It is this jewel that makes the nightly journey through the sky and it is the light of the Silmaril that Galadriel places within the glass that she gives to Frodo.
The words that Frodo speaks at utter need in Shelob’s Lair were first spoken in greeting by Ëonwe, herald of the Valar, to Eärendil on his arrival in Valinor. “Hail Eärendil, brightest of stars!” Perhaps it is Ëonwe’s voice that speaks through Frodo at this moment, the “other voice” that speaks “through his, clear, untroubled by the foul air of the pit.
So we have these two things brought together as Frodo and Sam are trapped by Shelob. We have the voice of Ëonwe and we have the light of the trees that Shelob’s sire sought to destroy. Shelob had heard the words before made by Elves as a prayer and they had not daunted her. But now, as she hears them spoken by the herald of the Valar and as she is made to gaze upon the light of the star casting aside all the shadows of the eternal night within which she dwelt, she begins to doubt.
Frodo cries out the name of Galadriel, “and gathering up his courage he lifted up the Phial once more. The eyes halted. For a moment their regard relaxed, as if some hint of doubt troubled them. Then Frodo’s heart flamed within him, and without thinking what he did, whether it was folly or despair or courage, he took the Phial in his left hand, and with his right hand drew his sword.”
And then he advances upon Shelob and Shelob retreats before he unbearable light into the darkest recess of her lair.
Tolkien brings the words that first captured his heart many years before into this darkest place. We can only imagine what this meant to him as he wrote them within his story. Of course we know that Shelob’s retreat was only temporary and that she was to sting Frodo in another part of her lair when he was unaware of her presence near. But if she had made good her attack when first she had the hobbits trapped then Sam would not have been free to drive her away from Frodo’s body and the orcs would not have carried Frodo into the tower of Cirith Ungol. The quest of the Ring would have failed right there. Frodo’s prayer at his moment of direst need was not in vain.
Wisdom from The Lord of the Rings 
Many thanks for an informative piece about Frodo’s challenge to Shelob. Cynewulf’s poem Crist is such a moving invocation of beauty, and your reference to Owen Barfield gives a deeper meaning to the significance of language as more than a linguistic system, but something that goes back further into the development of consciousness. It’s clear why Barfield was so influential to Tolkien, as both of them set out to recover meaning in a disenchanted world. “A light when all other lights go out.”
Chris, thank you so much for your thoughtful comment. I have been reading The Lord of the Rings for 55 years now and have never been so aware of the importance of the story of the hobbits in Shelob’s Lair as I am now. That Tolkien should choose to bring his seminal experience of the discovery of Cynewulf’s poem to this moment of the story and to no other seems so Important and your link between Galadriel’s words and the recovery of meaning in a disenchanted, a darkened, world is so helpful. This is the last time before the Cracks of Doom in which Frodo will have sufficient capacity to act freely. From now on he will get carried, dragged and coaxed along the way. That he chooses to use his freedom to invoke the divine light in this place of utter darkness is so very significant.
By a curious coincidence, I started to read, for the first time, The Notion Club Papers a few days before you published this piece. I’ve just reached the part where the Club member Lowdham describes his reaction to the quotation from Cynewulf that you begin with.
‘When I came across that citation in the dictionary I felt a curious thrill, as if something had stirred in me, half awakened from sleep. There was something very remote and strange, and beautiful behind those words, if I could grasp it, far beyond ancient English.
‘I know more now, of course. The quotation comes from the Crist, though exactly what the author means is not so certain. It is beautiful enough in its place. But I don’t think it is any irreverence to say that it may derive its curiously moving quality from some older world.’
The Club members then go on to discuss this further. I think Lowdham’s quoted remarks confirm what you wrote about the effect of hearing or reading Cynewulf: something that goes back further in time, memory and perception than the historical dating of the poem, to something difficult to describe, but perceived and recognised when when one reads it, like a collective memory. I was fascinated by how Lowdham’s and your responses mirrored and confirmed each other. We are in a story contained within another, larger story.
Chris, thank you so much for this. Was Lowdham describing something like Barfield’s idea of original participation? As for myself I only feel myself to be an observer looking on this from afar and longing to come a little closer.
Starting with the Two Trees through the Silmarils and finally into
Galadriel’s Phial, it was “light from light”, “consubstantial” with the
original Light. Maybe Tolkien thought of this part of the Nicene Creed
when he wrote about the star glass.
As to the power of language, the best example I can think of is Genesis
Thank you, Kate. Once again you describe this beautifully. When you speak of Genesis do you mean that repeated, “Let there be…” in chapter 1?
Yes, Genesis, chapter 1, God’s creative word.
Thank you, Stephen, you always give us something new to consider. Me, I did not realise that about Owen B., and that Tolkien as it were ‘bowed to his superiority.’ For my part, I am reading The Kalevala at the moment. The sheer power of words is dramatically demonstrated in the battle between Väinämöinen and Joukahainen, when V forces J deeper and deeper into a swamp – purely through the power of singing. This may seem like fairy tales and nonsense to modern ears, but there is surely an awe-inspiring reality to such actions, concerning which modern man has not the vaguest idea.
How wonderful that you are reading The Kalevala. I am sure that the story you have been reading reminded you of Bombadil and his mighty songs. In these dark days we need to learn how to sing like this again.
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