The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 768-771

As Aragorn and his company arrive at the “evil door” to the Paths of the Dead, I am taking a little time to reflect on some of the Dark Journeys of The Lord of the Rings, journeys that as I wrote last time, have a rich literary and cultural history.

This week I want to write about the dark journey of Gimli, son of Glóin, of the Dwarf kingdom of Erebor. Of all the company that pass through the evil door with Aragorn, it is through Gimli that Tolkien chooses to tell this part of the story. He rarely makes this choice usually choosing one of the hobbits if possible. Indeed, the only other occasion that comes to mind in which Gimli is the chosen vehicle for the telling of the story is in his first interaction with Galadriel when he expected enmity but encountered love. That moment changed his life. Does this one?

We read of how Aragorn led the way through the door and of how both his men and their horses followed him. We read of how Arod, the horse from the plains of Rohan who has carried both Legolas and Gimli on their journeys through that land, is afraid to follow, but how Legolas, the elf from the Woodland Realm, is able to calm his fear and lead him into the dark; and then we read this.

“And there stood Gimli the Dwarf left all alone.”

Gimli is not left alone because no-one cared about him, but because everyone assumed that Gimli, the son of a people for whom caves and mines were his natural milieu, was all right, that Gimli would be following on behind. But Gimli is not all right.

“His knees shook, and he was wroth with himself. ‘Here is a thing unheard of!’ he said. ‘An Elf will go underground and a Dwarf dare not!’ With that he plunged in. But it seemed to him that he dragged his feet like lead over the threshold; and at once a blindness came upon him, even upon Gimli Glóin’s son who had walked unafraid in many deep places of the world.”

And indeed, we remember how it was Gimli, of all the members of the Fellowship, who welcomed and embraced the journey through Moria and whose enthusiasm comforted even Gandalf in that dark place. There he was a strength to his companions. Here he is the straggler in the rear.

And soon we learn what it is he fears. It is the company of the Dead who soon fall in behind him, and because he is at the rear it is Gimli who is most aware of them.

“Nothing assailed the company nor withstood their passage, and yet steadily fear grew on the Dwarf as he went on: most of all because he knew there could be no turning back; all the paths behind were thronged by an unseen host that followed in the dark.”

Tolkien tells us of Gimli’s fear but he never tells us why he was afraid. This is largely, I think, because he knows of his own experience that when we are gripped by fear our experience is exactly that. Something comes and takes hold of us, something for a while at least that is too great for us to resist. At such a time we are unable to engage in any kind of reflection. We are rendered incapable of asking ourself a question like:

“I wonder why I feel this way?”

Indeed, for all who have known the effect upon us of an overpowering feeling such as fear, the thought that we might be able to engage in reflection at such a time is almost laughable. And for Gimli this feeling is so overpowering precisely because it is so unexpected. He is used to going underground, even living there.

Of course, it is Gimli’s encounter with the Dead that is knew to him, and I wonder if we learn something of his character, and his fundamental response to both life and death that we learn later in the story at the wedding feast of Aragorn and Arwen in Minas Tirith. There, Gimli and Éomer engage in a little chivalrous disagreement about which of the ladies at the feast is the most beautiful. For Éomer the choice is Arwen, but for Gimli it is Galadriel. And Gimli ends the dispute with these words.

“You have chosen the Evening; but my love is given to the Morning. And my heart forebodes that soon it will pass away for ever.” (Return p.953)

Here we learn a fundamental disposition of Gimli’s heart. And here we learn why he might fear, perhaps in a manner of which he is largely unaware, of anything that speaks of the night, as does the army of the Dead. And before we judge him for such a fear, we might examine our own hearts to see the fears that lie within. Both those fears of which we are aware and which we might fight with all our strength; but also those fears of which we may be unaware, that might take us unawares as they do here with Gimli. Of course, we do not know what fears they might be but if we know that they lurk within us, we might be more gentle with ourselves when they appear, and more gentle with others who are overcome by their own fear.