Denethor

“Pippin Perceived That Gandalf Had The Greater Power, and a Deeper Wisdom, and a Majesty That Was Veiled.” Pippin Begins to Ask The Question, “What Was Gandalf?”

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 740-743

This is the second post that I am writing about Gandalf in this short series based upon his arrival in Minas Tirith with Pippin. What I seek to write is, in effect, an attempt to answer a question that Pippin asked of himself in the throne room of Gondor as he stood between Gandalf and Denethor and felt the power of both.

“Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf did, more kingly, beautiful and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other than sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the deeper wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older.”

It is the contrast between Gandalf and Denethor that causes Pippin to deepen his perception, causes him to begin to realise that reality is more than can be understood through the senses. Denethor merely looked more like a great wizard than Gandalf. It requires the development of an inner eye for Pippin to begin to truly see. Perhaps it was his experience with the Palantír, the Seeing Stone, and maybe even his encounter with Sauron himself through that medium and the recognition of his utter vulnerability that accelerated Pippin’s journey towards a greater wisdom. And it leads him to a question.

“What was Gandalf?”

It is thanks to Christopher Tolkien that we have so many of his father’s papers that remained unpublished during his lifetime and in one that was published as an essay entitled, The Istari, in Unfinished Tales (Harper Collins 1998 pp. 502-520) Tolkien tells us much that is only hinted at in The Lord of the Rings. For example, take the insight that Pippin has “a majesty that was veiled”. In his essay we read this about Gandalf and the other Istari.

We read that during the Third Age the Valar sent with the consent of Eru, “members of their own high order” to Middle-earth. And that, although they were by nature spirits they were “clad in bodies as of Men, real and not feigned”. The point was that when in the First Age the Valar became aware of the coming of the Elves, the First Born, to Middle-earth, they went there from Valinor to persuade them to leave Middle-earth and to go with them to the safety of the Undying Lands, away from the threat of Morgoth. But they went in their full glory and terrified many of the Elves who refused to go with them. In sending the Istari in the Third Age the Valar determined not to repeat the same mistake.

“The emissaries were forbidden to reveal themselves in forms of majesty, or to seek to rule the wills of Men or Elves by open display of power, but coming in shapes weak and humble were bidden to advise and persuade Men and Elves to do good, and to seek to unite in love and understanding all those whom Sauron, should he come again, would endeavour to dominate and corrupt.” (Unfinished Tales p. 503)

Of the five wizards who came to the north of Middle-earth, two, the Blue Wizards, do not enter our tale. Even Tolkien did not know much of what became of them except that they may have gone into the East. Radagast the Brown, who makes a charming appearance in Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies, riding his sleigh drawn by hares, seems to have given up so much power that he no longer had much to do with those who might oppose Sauron, preferring to live among birds and animals. Saruman, we know, came to reveal himself in majesty, becoming impatient with the free peoples of Middle-earth and with the patience of the Valar and of Eru. Eventually he even chose to ally himself with Sauron while plotting to replace him as Dark Lord through his own study in rings of power. Only Gandalf remained true to his original calling.

Tolkien was devoutly Roman Catholic and as I read these words about the mission of the Istari I cannot help but ask the question whether he felt that the Church should not go to the world, seeking to rule the lives of people “by open display of power”. Should the Church go to the world in “shapes weak and humble” as Gandalf did? Were the occasions in which the Church, and especially its bishops, sought to terrify ordinary folk, occasions in which it fell into the temptation of Saruman. Were the splendid palaces of the princes of the Church expressions of Isengard rather than Rivendell? Should the servants of the Church be pilgrims on the same roads as ordinary people as Gandalf is rather than mighty lords as Saruman became?

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

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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.

“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.

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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.

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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.

“I Declare You Free in The Realm of Gondor to The Furthest of its Ancient Bounds.” Why Does Faramir Set Frodo Free?

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 902-904

Why does Faramir set Frodo free? Why does he allow him to leave, carrying the Ring with him, to go into Mordor? It is almost certain that he is sending Frodo to his death and it is just as certain that the Ring will be taken from him and that the Dark Lord will regain it.

Later in the story Denethor, Faramir’s father and Steward of Gondor, will ask the same question. Why did his son allow this witless halfling to go free? For Denethor, this angry question is bound up with his grief over the loss of Boromir. Why did Boromir go to Rivendell and not Faramir? Why was it that Boromir fell and not Faramir? If Boromir had been in command at Henneth Annûn Frodo would not have gone free. Boromir would have brought his father “a mighty gift”.

Denethor has his own understanding of why Faramir acted as he did. Faramir is living in some private fantasy. He imagines himself reenacting the life of one of the ancient kings of Gondor, lordly in his condescension, being able to act in this manner because he has the power to do so. He suspects that Gandalf has something to do with this and accuses Faramir of being a wizard’s pupil. Boromir had not fallen under Gandalf’s spell.

Is Denethor’s accusation true? Is Faramir acting out some private fantasy in which he is the hero? Is he merely a Don Quixote who has spent too long immersed in chivalric tales to the point that he has come to imagine himself still living within them.

Actually, Faramir has immersed himself in the stories of the past. I do not know if he knows the tale of Beren and Lúthien and how they went together into the very heart of darkness in order to take a silmaril from the iron crown of Morgoth. Aragorn knows this story and told a part of it to Frodo and his companions just before they were attacked by Nazgûl below Weathertop. Indeed the story of Beren and Lúthien matters deeply to Aragorn because it is the story of the love of an elf-maiden and a man and he is living within the same story in his love for Arwen.

We do not know precisely what stories Faramir lives in but they are stories that have led him to regard Gondor as “full of light, high and fair, beautiful as a queen among other queens: not a mistress of slaves, nay, not even a kind mistress of willing slaves”.

And Denethor lives inside stories too. But his stories are of a kingdom in decline from its former glory, a kingdom that stands alone in the world against overwhelming and malignant power. It is this story that he has passed onto Boromir but not Faramir. At the Council of Elrond Boromir told this story to those gathered there with great pride. He identified himself completely with it. He was the hero in that story and this was the story that he told to Frodo just before he tried to take the Ring from him, imagining himself as the captain of mighty armies driving all his foes before him, wielding the Ring of Power.

Denethor’s stories lead him to despair. Boromir’s stories lead him to try and take the Ring by force from Frodo. And Faramir’s stories lead him to set Frodo free to go into Mordor on a hopeless mission.

We all live within stories and we all have to choose which ones we will live in. If we believe we live in a world of objective facts that we are able to stand apart from as a clear eyed observer then this is our story. In this regard we are closest in spirit to Denethor. He tried to gather facts, using the palantir, the seeing stone of Orthanc, in order to do so, not knowing that Sauron controlled what “facts” he was able to see. We might liken this to our own belief that our chosen media platform is able to give us the facts that we need in order to make our own clear eyed decisions. Faramir’s stories lead him to hope against hope, to do the impossible thing, to let Frodo go free to complete his mission and to free the world from a very great evil.

” Good Night, Captain, my Lord,” Sam Said to Faramir. “You Took the Chance, Sir.” Praise From the Praiseworthy in Henneth Annûn.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 891-892

The effort that Frodo used to speak of his mission openly at last to Faramir was the last that he was able to give that night. As he tried to stand he fell into a swoon, was caught by Faramir and laid upon a bed. Sam was about to lie in another bed beside his master’s but then he paused, bowed low before Faramir and spoke.

“Good night, Captain, my lord,” he said. “You took the chance, sir.”

“Did I so?” said Faramir.

“Yes sir, and showed your quality: the very highest.”

You can feel Faramir wince slightly as he hears these words. He comes from a strictly hierarchical society in which only those of equal or higher rank are permitted to speak so freely to one another. In Gondor only the Prince of Dol Amroth and, of course, Boromir and Denethor, would be permitted to speak to Faramir in this way. Faramir describes Sam as a “pert servant” as he responds to his words, as one who is speaking more freely than he has a right to do, but then he continues:

“But nay the praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards.”

Faramir recognises that in Sam’s courageous service to Frodo, a service that will almost certainly cost him his life, that Sam has won the right to speak freely. The early Greek fathers of the Christian Church had a word for this freedom of speech that is close to the way Sam speaks here. They called it parrhesia, likening it to the way in which Adam was able to speak freely, openly, confidently, face to face with God in the garden, a freedom that had been restored through the obedience of Christ. In recent years some philosophers, such as Michel Foucault, have argued that this freedom of speech is a quality that belongs inherently to all humans although it always comes with a risk. If I speak frankly I may put myself in danger. But Sam is able to make himself equal to Faramir at this moment, not because of some innate quality that he possesses but because he, as Faramir recognises, is himself “praiseworthy”.

And as Faramir speaks here, perhaps he carries within himself his deep sadness that the one person whose praise he desires above all others is the one who will never give that praise to him. Faramir will never hear that praise from his father, Denethor. Eventually Denethor will learn that for a brief moment his son had the Ring of Power, the One Ring, within his grasp, but that he let it go. He will declare bitterly that Boromir would have brought him “a mighty gift” because Boromir would have done his father’s bidding. And in his anger towards Faramir Denethor will go further in his bitter criticism. He will take the love that his son’s men so clearly have for him and he will say that this is only given because his son likes to appear lordly. Faramir has nothing praiseworthy within himself. He is merely an actor; one who is playing a part.

The part that Denethor accuses his son of playing is that of a lord of Númenor. It is merely a game that Faramir indulges himself in while Gondor is in imminent danger of destruction. Faramir, the “wizard’s pupil”, as Denethor bitterly names him, has chosen to play his lordly games, to imagine himself as one of the heroes of an age long ago, to let Frodo and Sam go free, carrying the Ring with them, when what was needed was a weapon, a weapon so great that even Sauron would quail in fear before it.

Sam sees Faramir quite differently from Denethor. Faramir had the opportunity to take the Ring for himself just as Boromir had tried to do so, but he had chosen not to do so. This is a deed, as Sam sees it, worthy of the highest praise. But in one sense Sam sees things just as Denethor does. For Denethor Faramir is who who is an adopter of a pose in order to win popularity. Sam sees something else.

“You have an air too, sir, that reminds me of, of – well, Gandalf, of wizards.”

“Maybe,” said Faramir. “Maybe you discern from far away the air of Númenor. Good night!”

“Your Heart is Shrewd As Well As Faithful, and Saw Clearer Than Your Eyes.” Sam Gamgee Shows Us How To Make a Mess of Things and Yet To Get The Biggest Things Right.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp.888-890

It is a catastrophic moment. Frodo has taken such care to keep the conversation with Faramir away from the matter of the Ring. Faramir is aware that there is something that Frodo does not wish to speak about but once he has made his mind up that Frodo is a man of honour he chooses not to press him on this. But Frodo is tired and lapses into silence and Sam takes over the conversation.

Anke Eissman depicts the moment when Frodo begins to drift into sleep and Sam takes up the conversation with Faramir. Note the intensity of the gaze between Sam and Faramir. Great things are about to be revealed.

Sam begins to speak about Galadriel and he falls into a reverie as he does so and within that dreamlike mood suddenly says of Boromir:

“It’s my opinion that in Lórien he first saw clearly what I guessed sooner: what he wanted. From the moment he first saw it he wanted the Enemy’s Ring.”

Suddenly everything changes. The Ring takes centre stage after it has lain hidden and defended and the brother of the man who tried to take it by force from Frodo stands before it surrounded by a troup of warriors. Faramir knows what it is and he knows that his brother tried to take it. It is as he puts it himself “a chance for Faramir, Captain of Gondor, to show his quality”.

And he does show his quality. At this critical moment he chooses not to try to take the Ring. And as when Gandalf and then Galadriel both chose not to take it when Frodo offered it to them and as Bilbo freely let it go when Gandalf told him to do so it is upon these moments of free renunciation that the whole story turns. A number of readers of The Lord of the Rings have noted that Tolkien does something quite unique in his story. That whereas every story of quest is about the finding and getting of something Tolkien tells us a story of letting something go, of casting it away, a story of renunciation. The Ring is a thing that can give great power to the one who possesses it and each one of the characters that we have mentioned chose to renounce the possibility of this power.

Bilbo chooses freely to renounce the Ring after a little persuasion from a good friend.

And what of Sam’s terrible mistake? At this moment Frodo simply sees it as a disaster. What had lain hidden now lies bare before all. The brother of the man who tried to take it knows what it is and where it is. But Faramir sees it very differently.

“Be comforted, Samwise. If you seem to have stumbled, think that it was fated to be so, Your heart is shrewd as well as faithful, and saw clearer than your eyes.”

Clearly Sam was not meant to reveal that Frodo had the Ring of Power in his possession. We thought a few weeks ago about Frodo’s decision not to let Faramir know about the true purpose of his mission. But Sam has come to trust the man who has offered them shelter and has chosen, albeit without reflection, to entrust him with the secret of Frodo’s mission. Frodo himself longs to do the same. It is only the memory of Boromir that prevents him from doing so.

And so it is Sam’s heart, and not his head, that has lead both him and Frodo to this moment. It is Sam’s heart that breaks through all the mistrust that has divided the foes of Sauron from one another for so very long. Gondor’s long separation from peoples who once stood with them as allies is set aside in a moment of heartfelt indiscretion. Not that the heart of Minas Tirith is changed in this moment. Denethor, when he learns of the trusting action of his son, will bitterly declare that if Boromir, and not his brother, had lived he would have brought to his father “a mighty gift”. But all through The Lord of the Rings it is these moments of trust that prove essential to the successful outcome of the great quest and this is one of the most important of all of them. If Faramir had chosen at this moment to take the Ring then all would have ended in darkness and the triumph of Sauron. That he does not do this, but chooses to trust in the mission that Frodo has been given, is crucial to the whole story.

And all becomes possible because of Sam’s heart and not his head.

“We Are a Failing People, a Springless Autumn.” Faramir Tells Frodo and Sam of The History of Gondor and of His Loss of Hope.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 884-887

One of the main themes of The Lord of the Rings is the decline of the West. Later on in the story Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, will declare to Gandalf that the West has failed and that there is no hope against the dark and Sauron its lord.

Faramir seems to have as little hope as does his father and says as much to Frodo as they converse together after dinner.

“What hope have we?” said Faramir. “It is long since we had any hope. The sword of Elendil, if it returns indeed, may rekindle it, but I do not think that it will do more than put off the evil day, unless other help unlooked-for also comes, from Elves or Men. For the Enemy increases and we decrease. We are a failing people, a springless autumn.”

If one of the main themes of Tolkien’s great work is the decline of the West so too is the matter of Hope. Faramir speaks of help from Elves or Men but describes it as “unlooked-for”. He cannot imagine from where such hope might come even though he speaks warmly of the ancient alliance with the people of Rohan, their distant kin from of old. It is, of course, a delicious irony that the hope of the West is even now sitting before him in the form of a hobbit and his faithful servant. Elrond both recognised and welcomed this irony and Denethor will later dismiss it as a fool’s hope and Denethor will be right. It is my conviction that it was one of the greatest moments of the twentieth century and a moment whose influence is, if anything, greater in our own century, when Tolkien found himself writing words on a blank piece of paper while doing the tedious task of marking examinations, “in a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit”.

An evocative illustration by Daniel Reeve. (With thanks to Marcel Bülles for alerting me to my original incorrect attribution.)

Hobbits arrived both unlooked-for in Tolkien’s mind and even unwelcome. They interrupted his life’s work, the creation of a legendarium to which he had devoted himself for many years. They made him some money, a very useful and necessary thing for a man with a large family, but he always felt that they kept him from The Silmarillion, the great work whose existence we owe to his son, Christopher.

But, as he was to say in his foreword to the second edition of The Lord of the Rings, “the tale grew in the telling”, so that the figure who sat before Faramir in Henneth Annûn was very different and much greater than anything that Tolkien had initially conceived. In many ways Bilbo was a figure akin to the tricksters much beloved of old English folktales like Jack the Giant Killer a figure who won the prize by quick wits and good luck. Such figures would appear in the great mythologies of Europe such as the Grail Legend merely to offer some comic relief. This is how Denethor sees Pippin later on. Faramir recognises something different in Frodo but even he does not recognise just how different Frodo is.

If there is hope to be found in Faramir’s world then perhaps it might be found in “the sword of Elendil” that Aragorn wields, but Faramir is right in saying that the best that Aragorn can do is to put off the evil day. The victory won at the Pelennor Fields is just such a thing. The army that Aragorn leads that follows this victory is “scarce as many as the vanguard of [Gondor’s] army in the days of its power”, such as the army that overthrew the Witch-king of Angmar in Eriador. Aragorn knows that his assault upon Mordor is utterly impossible. There is only one hope, the fool’s hope that Frodo can take the Ring to Mount Doom and destroy it there.

It is here that I would argue that only an imagination formed by long practice of Christian faith is capable of creating the figures of Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee. I am prepared to be persuaded that other religious traditions are capable of this but even then would argue that if they are then they will be very closely akin to Christianity at this point. Even many who call themselves Christian do not look for hope in the unlooked-for places. Like Faramir we cannot imagine what they might be so we do not look beyond the tried and tested or beyond a slightly better version of what we already know.

But I think that I might be judging Faramir too harshly. When he finally discovers Frodo’s mission through Sam’s unintentional assistance he recognises it for what it is. He knows that all the truth that he has ever learned, in Númenor that was, Elvenhome that is and above and beyond all “that which is beyond Elvenhome, and will ever be” has led him to the moment when he can see that Frodo’s mission is the hope of the West and that, at the same time, it is a fool’s hope as well.

“They Will Look for Him From The White Tower… But He Will Not Return.” Boromir is Laid to Rest in an Elven Boat.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991,2007) pp. 538-544

Legolas and Gimli find Aragorn kneeling beside the body of Boromir and, at first, they fear that he is mortally wounded too. But soon they are reassured and learn of all that has taken place, of the slaying of Boromir by many orcs as he sought to defend the hobbits.

Now there are questions to answer. Are the hobbits still alive or have they been taken by the orcs? And if they have been taken which way have they gone? They know that Boromir had gone to defend Merry and Pippin but were Frodo and Sam among them? What should they do now? Should they follow the orcs to aid Merry and Pippin or should they find Frodo’s tracks and follow him for the sake of the quest? It is an evil choice that lies before them.

“First we must tend the fallen,” Legolas says. “We cannot leave him lying like carrion among these foul orcs.”

They do not have time to bury Boromir or raise a cairn of stones above him and so they determine to lay him to rest in one of the elven boats. We are reminded here of the ship burials of the Norse or Germanic peoples of Europe. The most famous of these burials here in England is the Sutton Hoo burial from the early 7th century of an Anglo-Saxon king laid to rest in a a ship that was nearly 90 feet long and when discovered in a famous excavation in 1939 was found to contain the most spectacular treasures from as far afield as Byzantium and Sri Lanka.

The Sutton Hoo ship burial and the famous warrior’s mask now kept in the British Museum.

Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli lay what treasures they can around the fallen hero, son of Denethor, Lord of Gondor. “The grey hood and elven-cloak they folded and placed beneath his head. They combed his long dark hair and arrayed it about his shoulders. The golden belt of Lórien gleamed about his waist. His helm they set beside him, and across his lap they laid the cloven horn and the hilt and shards of his sword; beneath his feet they put the swords of his enemies.”

And so the Anduin, the mighty river of Gondor, takes Boromir over the Rauros falls and down through Osgiliath “out into the Great Sea at night under the stars”.

It is a deeply poignant moment within the story. A brief pause amidst all the frantic action that has taken place that day and all that lies ahead of the three companions. As Tolkien was writing this scene he must have thought of the many fallen soldiers at the Battle of the Somme in which he fought and, most of all, of Robert Gilson and Geoffrey Bache Smith of the Tea Club, Barrovian Society, the T.C.B.S of King Edward’s School in Birmingham, both of whom fell in 1916.

For so many of the dead in that war there could be no pause amidst the fighting and the carnage amidst the trenches of the western front. Many bodies could not even be identified and it was not until after the war ended that the people of Great Britain began the long and patient task of creating memorials to their war dead. From the Tomb of the Unknown Warrior in Westminster Abbey, over which Queen Elizabeth’s coffin was carried at her funeral, to the memorial at the Menin Gate in Ypres in Belgium where those whose bodies were never identified are remembered, to the war cemeteries in Belgium and in France where thousands upon thousands lie, among whom are two of my mother’s uncles, and then the memorials raised in communities up and down the land for those who they had lost, the people of Britain did all that they could to honour their fallen. And we still do on each Sunday nearest to the 11th of November every year at those same memorials in all but a small number of villages across the land where everyone came home from the war. No such villages exist in my county of Worcestershire.

There is much debate among Tolkien scholars about the extent to which The Lord of the Rings is as much a memorial to the fallen of the Great War as it is the creation of a myth that reaches back into a distant past. The recent biopic about Tolkien’s early life certainly suggests this and I, for one, am persuaded. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli do all that they can to give meaning to the fall of Boromir and Tolkien makes heroes of the thousands who fell on the western front by creating a myth big enough to contain their stories.

One of the many war cemeteries in Belgium and Northern France from the Great War of 1914-18.

“Do Not Be Afraid! He Will Not Go Astray.” Gandalf Leads The Company Through the Deep Places of The World.

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The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 301-305

After the attack by the horror at the gate Gandalf begins to lead the Company through Moria. It is a journey that no-one wishes to make but inexorably, after Caradhras denied them passage over the mountains, after the attack by wargs and then by the watcher in the waters, they have to go through utter darkness.

“Who will lead us now in this deadly dark?” Boromir asks unhappily and Gandalf replies, “I will…and Gimli shall walk with me. Follow my staff!”

The journey through Moria will take three or four marches over forty miles and although Gandalf may sound confident his memory of a journey made long ago has largely faded and oftentimes the way is unclear and many dangers have to be overcome.

At one point the pause that Gandalf takes is longer than usual. He speaks with Gimli but Moria is beyond the imagination of this dwarf and Gandalf’s consultation is little more than an opportunity for him to think aloud. The anxiety of the Fellowship begins to grow and then Aragorn speaks.

“Do not be afraid! I have been with him on many a journey, if never on one so dark; and there are tales of Rivendell of greater deeds of his than any that I have seen. He will not go astray- if there is any path to find. He has led us in here against our fears, but he will lead us out again, at whatever cost to himself. He is surer of finding the way home in a blind night than the cats of Queen Berúthiel.”

I will allow others to comment upon the cats of Queen Berúthiel. It will suffice here to note that Aragorn’s knowledge of this story is a fruit of the years that he spent in Gondor in the service of Ecthelion, father of Denethor and grandfather of Boromir. This service was done by him secretly as Thorongil . He never revealed his true identity although it is likely that Denethor guessed who he was and was jealous of the high regard in which Thorongil was held by the people.

What is important here is that Aragorn breaks his silence at a moment when fear is growing among the Company. Tolkien tells us that Aragorn’s silence has been “grim”. The decision to go through Moria had been taken against his advice and whereas Boromir’s unhappiness is voiced aloud Aragorn chooses to take the position at the rear of the line and to say nothing. And when he does speak the only reference that he makes concerning his fear is to say, “he will lead us out again, at whatever cost to himself.” For Aragorn’s fear is for Gandalf. He has a premonition that something terrible is going to happen to his friend.

This is the moment upon the journey of the Fellowship in which Aragorn first reveals his kingliness. While Gandalf gives his attention entirely to the task before him, to finding a way through the dark of Moria, Aragorn commands the courage of his companions. They are afraid and with some reason. They are effectively lost in this dark place. But as with the teacher who had charge of the group of school boys lost in caves in Thailand the one essential task at this moment is to maintain hope. Boromir is, of course, right to say it’s not my fault. As with Aragorn, the Company are there against his advice, but at this moment being right about decisions taken up to this point is of no value. There may be a time and place for reviewing past decisions although because the journey through Moria will never be repeated it is hard to think of when this will be but such a review has no value whatsoever now. All that matters is to keep what courage they still have and to follow their guide to whatever fate. Aragorn knows this and this is why he speaks. Thus we see that Aragorn is a king while Boromir is only a warrior.