The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 952-955
The pages that Tolkien wrote around the terrible scene in Shelob’s Lair weave together light and darkness in a way that is both desperately horrible and exquisitely beautiful. On the one hand we have the insatiable desire of Shelob as she tracks down her prey.
“Most like a spider she was, but huger than the great hunting beasts, and more terrible than they because of the evil purpose in her remorseless eyes.” (The Two Towers p. 949)
And then we have Gollum’s treachery luring Frodo and Sam into a trap from which he is sure they cannot escape in order to regain the Ring and then to “pay her back, my precious. Then we’ll pay everyone back.” (The Two Towers p. 947)
But then we have this.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
a menel palandiriel
le nallon si di'nguruthos!
A tiro nin, Fanuilos!
O Elbereth Starkindler/ from heaven gazing afar,/ to thee I cry here beneath the shadow of death!/ O look towards me everwhite!
As Shelob gloats over her prey, over Frodo’s body, Sam attacks her with all the ferocity of his love for his master having beaten off Gollum’s attack. But Shelob is mightier, even than all the rage that Sam can muster, and she turns to confront and to kill him. And it is at this most desperate need that Sam looks for some strength in order to stand against her.
And strength comes to him.
It all begins with Sam clutching the phial of Galadriel and with a single word faintly spoken.
“Galadriel”.
Sam is looking for something greater than his own strength and his memory goes back to the Lady of Lothlórien, the maker and giver of the star glass. It is all that he can find within his memory and he calls upon it now. But what comes to him is something far far beyond his memory. Sam sings a song of praise to Elbereth in a language that he does not know. He heard such songs as he dozed in the hall of fire in Rivendell but he had never learnt them. Now they come to him in a Pentecostal moment and in his direst need.
I say Pentecostal not because I think that Sam has suddenly joined a particular religious movement but because, just as the apostles were given the ability to speak in languages that they had never learned on the first Day of Pentecost, so Sam is divinely gifted language that he does not know in his moment of direst need.
When the Elves cried “to thee I cry, here beneath the shadow of death” in the halls of Elrond it was a reflection upon a general spiritual condition and no less meaningful because of that, but when Sam cried out these words he literally stood in the shadow of his own imminent death, and what came to him was the angelic power that the Elves praised and underneath which they lived.
“As if his indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass blazed suddenly like a white torch in his hand. It flamed like a star that leaping from the firmament sears the dark air with intolerable light.”
And it is this light that defeats Shelob. She has been wounded by Sting, Frodo’s elven blade that Sam is holding, and one of her eyes has been put out, but it is the light that she cannot bear. “No such terror out of heaven had ever burned in Shelob’s face before.”She retreats into her hole and does not return.
Nothing less than light from heaven could have defeated her and this is one of the few moments within The Lord of the Rings in which Tolkien departs from his usual reserve about expressing the Catholic faith that was so dear to him and even here he does so within the confines of the secondary world that he had sub-created. It is angelic power that comes to Sam, the power of Elbereth, the member of the Valar whom the Elves loved the best, the kindler of the stars under which they first awoke in ancient time, and not the power of Mary, “the Queen of Heaven, the Ocean Star”, that was so important to Tolkien.
It is divine power, however mediated, that comes to Sam in this darkest of moments and which defeats Shelob. Tolkien never states this explicitly but in the beauty of Sam’s hymn to Elbereth he opens the door just a little to an even greater beauty for those who want to enter by that door
Wisdom from The Lord of the Rings 
Welcome back from official pilgrimage, Reverend Winter!
Despite years of reading Tolkien and years of attending Mass, I never made the connection between Sam and the Pentecost. That there were angelic forces at work when he raised the Starglass, yes, and that something divine spoke through him, yes. But the relationship of divine light and language should have rung a great big bell! Thanks for this insight.
Regarding your recent comment about cautious travel, weren’t one or two notable Bagginses the absolute exception among Hobbits when it came to unexpected yet accepted adventures? I’d much rather have everything planned and predictable when I venture forth from home, to make sure I’m going what I think is the right way. But a friend of mine, a nun, says God is the great Unexpected. So maybe God intentionally leaves out the nice yellow arrows sometimes to encourage us to trust Him. No doubt you and your wife had ample opportunity for this on your Camino! Blessings, Kate
I first came across the link to Pentecost here in Holly Ordway’s book, Tolkien’s Faith. It had always escaped me as well. Isn’t it wonderful how there is always something new to discover in Tolkien even after many years?
There were two occasions when we missed a sign and on each occasion there was a kind man who pointed us in the right direction so that we did not get too lost.
I agree in my heart with your friend but sadly as I get older I become more anxious about getting lost. Going on adventures like the Camino at the age of 70 is at least in part a desire to keep my heart open.
I can’t remember if I quoted Fr Murray Bodo’s Pilgrim Prayer before but I said it at the start of each day on setting out. It was a resetting of the heart. When I was a young man I found I could do this simply through natural energy. Now I need God’s help and grace more and more.
I am not in control.
I am not in a hurry.
I walk in faith and hope.
I greet everyone I meet with peace.
I bring back only that which God gives me.
What an apt and comforting prayer! We’ve been travelling this past month too, and being nearly 70 myself, I have had to be extra careful not to go astray. But you’re right about such journeys keeping hearts and minds open. Thanks for the book recommendation; sounds like a worthwhile read. The road goes ever on and on…
I find that I think, keep on doing this while you can. My next piece is going to be on Sam’s grief on what he thinks is Frodo’s death and the remarkable connection that Tolkien felt to a quotation from Simone de Beauvoir. I doubt if Tolkien’s modernist critics would have thought that he even knew of her work let alone that he would quote her with profound approval.