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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.