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.
Wisdom from The Lord of the Rings 
Good morning, Stephen,
In writing about Theoden’s state of mind before his last battle, perhaps
Tolkien was tapping into the same sentiment as Dylan Thomas:
“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Eomer’s counsel was no doubt given out of love for Theoden, but for most
young people, their own death seems so far in the future that they can
afford to ignore mortality and can’t imagine how it feels to grow old,
with its daily reminders of death.
But Theoden wants to make up for the time he lost listening to
Wormtongue. He sees the battle as his last, greatest opportunity to
prove his worth to not only his people but also just as much to his
ancestors/gods, ensuring an honorable place among them in the afterlife.
It’s not just warriors who feel this way and certainly not just men. For
those of us who are convinced there IS an afterlife in eternity with
God, we want to make things right with God (as probably everyone —
regardless of belief system — does in terms of their loved ones) before
we depart this world.
“The Dream of Gerontius” by St. John Henry Newman takes it one step
further to that reality beyond. I’m quoting from Wikipedia (sorry):
“Newman uses the death and judgement of Gerontius as a prism through
which the reader is drawn to contemplation of their own fear of death
and sense of unworthiness before God.”
Theoden’s leadership and courage on the Pelennor Fields let him die
without fear and a sense of unworthiness.
For the rest of us, the art is to balance “raging against the dying of
the light” with accepting its inevitability.
Blessings,
Kate
Thank you so much for your powerful reflection, Kate. I only know Gerontius through Elgar’s masterpiece, but that combination of word and music is sublime in and of itself. I was taken, as I read your thoughts, to the moment when Gerontius is so overwhelmed by his experience of the presence of God that he cries out, “take me away from here!” He needs to be prepared to be able to stay in the holy presence. I feel the same way.
I agree that Theoden speaks in the same spirit of Dylan Thomas in his words to Eomer. But it seems to me that there is a necessary tension to be found between fighting against the process of ageing and a serene acceptance of it. I have felt a fatigue of late that has been rare in my experience, and instinctively I have wanted to fight against it. I walked the last 270 miles of the Camino del Norte and Camino Primitivo last year and I want to walk Wainwright’s coast to coast path later this year, another 180 miles. I know that if I feel then as I do now I will not be able to do it. I will be the old man who keeps on slowing his companions and maybe prevents them from setting out altogether. Do I fight this or do I give in? At the moment I want to fight but there may come a time when I have to give in. So I envy the strength that Theoden receives from his healing by Gandalf.
Hello Stephen,
Sorry to hear you aren’t feeling like your indefatigable self who could
walk 270 miles in one tour. I’m having similar experiences.
I don’t know the Wainwright path, but is it maybe possible to do just
one part at a time? Or set out intending to do the whole thing but have
a Plan B with “escape” routes/points you can take if need be? Speaking
from personal experience, it is a relief to know that you CAN interrupt
a tour, and I would hope your walking companions value your company more
than they do speed.
A couple of years ago, I met a man with a musculoskeletal handicap
walking high on a mountain trail, going along slowly and steadily while
his (non-handicapped) group cheerfully kept pace. He said to me “I’m
glad I’m so slow, because I SEE EVERYTHING”, and smiled. This gave
slow-me an enormous lift.
Theoden’s end was spectacular. Realistically, that’s not an option for
most of us. However, with God’s help, we may become the best person
we’ve ever been towards the end of this life.
From a Lutheran pastor’s (Nadia Bolz-Weber) blog entry yesterday, a
eulogy for her father:
“…you can lose your able-bodiedness, your status, your ability to do
things you’ve always enjoyed doing, you can lose all the things the
world had admired you for– in other words, all the vain things that
charm you most – and still not lose what matters most” …
This is what I hope.
Happy trails despite fatigue,
Kate
Thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words, Kate. I was feeling a bit low when I wrote mine. I do still hope to walk the Coast to Coast path but recognise that in future I may have to limit my ambition. I loved your story of the man on the mountain who had a disability and found it inspiring.
By the way I know that Nadia Bolz-Weber walked the Coast to Coast path with her husband last year as she spoke of it on Substack. And not losing what matters most. I agree. That is what really matters,