Frodo

“I Will Not Touch the Creature. For Now That I See Him, I Do Pity Him.” It Is Pity That Will Overthrow The Dark Lord.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 798-803

Think of how many stories that you know in which the hero overcomes the evil against which he stands by means of the way he uses what resources at his disposal, especially the means of violence, to defeat his foes. What matters in all these stories is power and the use of power. That is what makes the Ring so tempting. It is the Ring of Power. The one who possesses it and who has the capacity to use it would gain a power over others that nothing else could give.

And then think of the good that you could do if you had the power to do it. Perhaps you could use your power to protect the innocent and to overcome those who seek to do wrong. This desire, of course, is what lay behind the code of chivalry. Men were trained in the use of arms, the means of power, to the highest degree, but they were also trained spiritually. They were to use their power in the service of the good, the true and the beautiful. They were to defend women and children against harm. They were never to use their power for mere self interest but always for a higher good.

So power in itself is not an evil. If Frodo had not had Sting, the Elven blade that Bilbo had taken from the trolls’ cave on his adventures with the dwarves, then Gollum would have probably killed Sam and then Frodo too. Gollum has survived as long as he has in part because of his cunning but also because he is always prepared to kill and he has killed many times. Neither Frodo or Sam are killers even though they have been in battle. Gollum is.

But there is a fundamental difference between using a sword or any means of violence in desperate need and using them in cold blood. When Isildur took the Ring from Sauron it was in such need. We know little of his history after he took the Ring apart from his unwillingness to destroy it but there is little to suggest that he had become a tyrant. At least not yet. Gollum, on the other hand, gained the Ring by murdering his best friend.

And, crucially, when Bilbo took the Ring from Gollum, he had the opportunity at one point to kill him. Cloaked by the invisibility that the Ring was able to give him he stood behind Gollum who himself was standing between him and freedom. Surely he would have been justified in using Sting to gain his freedom. But he could not kill in cold blood and so he did the riskier thing. He leaped over his crouching enemy and so escaped from the Misty Mountains.

But it was not Bilbo’s need that Frodo was thinking about when he said to Gandalf:”What a pity Bilbo did not stab the vile creature, when he had the chance.” At that moment Frodo was simply afraid of Gollum and disgusted by him. He felt that it would be justifiable, even good, to take Gollum’s life. But Gandalf did not agree.

“Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy; not to strike without need.”

And now that Frodo sees Gollum for himself, the half-starved miserable creature in the wild, driven by a hunger over which he has no control, he pities him. Perhaps too, he feels enough of the corrupting power of the Ring himself to understand in a way that no-one else can, apart perhaps from Bilbo, what it means to possess this evil thing. Frodo may be being slowly worn down by the thing that he carries but the goodness with which he has been trained still has power over evil.

And so in Pity Frodo stays his hand. And this makes all the difference. Of course it makes an immediate difference. Frodo and Sam are lost in the wild and without Gollum as a guide they would have starved. And it also makes a crucial difference to the eventual outcome of the story. It is only through Gollum that the Ring eventually goes to the Fire and its destruction; only through Gollum that Sauron is overthrown. And it also makes a crucial difference to Frodo himself. Could he have found healing for all his hurts in the Undying Land if he had murder on his conscience? Perhaps he could but it would have been so much harder.

So it is indeed Pity that indeed “rules the fates of many”, as Gandalf put it. It is a quality in which Gandalf has chosen to be trained and so, crucially, he is different from Saruman. And it is a quality in which he schools three of the vitally important characters in The Lord of the Rings, Aragorn, Faramir and Frodo. Although power plays its part in the final overthrow of Sauron it is Pity and Mercy that make the essential difference. Indeed we could say that it is because Frodo and Sam do not kill Gollum at this moment that Sauron is overthrown.

“I Think The Rope Came by Itself- When I Called.” The Rope From Lórien Makes Us Think of Unexpected Lights in Dark Places.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 789-798

There comes a point in Frodo and Sam’s efforts to descend the steep eastern slopes of the Emyn Muil when they scramble down a gully to a point where Frodo thinks they might be able to escape the hills altogether. He is just making his way down to a ledge some way below when a cry sounds in the sky above them. It is a Nazgûl and so terrible is the sound out in the wild that Frodo puts his hands to his ears and finds himself sliding down the face of the hills to another ledge below the one that he had originally intended to reach.

For a moment Frodo is blinded and terribly shaken and Sam does not know how he will reach him. He begins to brave the descent that Frodo has just made rather precipitously when Frodo stops him.

“Wait! You can’t do anything without a rope.”

And suddenly Sam remembers the coil of rope that he has carried all the way from Lothlórien; a gift of the Elves of that land.

“Never travel far without a rope!” said the Elf who had given it to Sam. “And one that is long and strong and light. Such as these. They may be a help in many needs”

The rope that Sam has carried in his pack is about 30 ells in length or about 110 feet, quite long enough to get them both down to the ground below. Although the rope seems to be so slender that it could not possibly bear their weight it turns out to be very strong. It also turns out to have other qualities. When Sam lowers it to enable Frodo to scramble back up to the point at which he fell the rope shimmers in the dark in such a way as to dispel his temporary blindness. And the rope has a further quality. When Frodo and Sam finally reach the bottom of their descent and realise that they cannot bring the rope with them Sam mournfully gives it a farewell tug. To his surprise and chagrin it falls into his hands. Frodo breaks into mocking laughter remarking on the quality of Sam’s knot.

“I may not be much good at climbing, Mr. Frodo,” he said in injured tones, “but I do know about rope and about knots. It’s in the family, as you might say.”

They check the rope to see if it had frayed but found it completely whole. Sam has complete faith both in the Elven rope and also in his own skill with knots and at the last he declares, “Have it your own way, Mr. Frodo… but I think the rope came of itself- when I called.”

And Sam is right. That is exactly what happened. And with this Sam is beginning to learn a relationship to things that is a form of wisdom, a wisdom that the Elves of Lothlórien have developed over many years. To the Elves all things that we tend to treat as mere tools, mere objects, have a kind of consciousness. We see this with lembas, the waybread that at this point in the story is the only food that Frodo and Sam have. We remember that when Merry and Pippin escaped from the orcs they noted that lembas “does put heart into you. A more wholesome sort of feeling, too, than the heat of that orc draught.” And later in the story we will see what the Phial of Galadriel can do in the darkest place.

At first Sam is inclined to call this quality a kind of magic, Elven magic. But he is learning that he also has the ability to evoke a kind of aliveness in things just as the Elves do and just as great craftsmen and women do. This evocation is a deep form of attentiveness. The patience to wait until the inner life of a thing reveals itself. Eventually Sam will use this attentiveness through Galadriel’s gift to him, the little box of dust that he will use to heal the Shire after Saruman’s scouring of it. Through that dust and Sam’s particular use of it the babies born in the year after will be especially beautiful and the beer especially good.

All of these things are expressions of the way in which dark places can be transformed. Ordinary things like rope, food and dust are found to have a real presence but we must pay them sufficient attention in order to find that presence and to allow it to transform our lives.

“It is My Doom, I Think, To Go To That Shadow Yonder, So That a Way Will Be Found.” Frodo Thinks About Providence and His Journey.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 787-789

It has been three days since the Fellowship was broken at Parth Galen and Frodo and Sam have been wandering in the Emyn Muil, always looking for a way to bring them down to the marshes below but always finding that the eastern slopes are too steep to do this with any kind of safety. Westwards on this same day Merry and Pippin have just met with Treebeard in Fangorn, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli follow them and in two days will meet with Gandalf who has made his way directly from Lothlórien to Fangorn.

Sam fears that they are lost, that they have come the wrong way. Should they make their way back and try another? Frodo does not think it possible to retrace their steps. They have hardly taken a straightforward path through the hills that would make this an easy choice and there are orcs patrolling the eastern banks of the Anduin. No, somehow there needs to be a way forward.

Frodo thinks about his doom. We have come to think of this word in dark terms. I remember a much loved sitcom from my youth set in the days of the Second World War in England when a German invasion was expected at any moment. There was a Scottish character who would respond to any difficulty with the words, “We’re all doomed,” in other words, we’re all finished. But this is not what Frodo means. He uses the word in an older sense in which doom meant judgement. People would speak of doomsday as meaning the day of judgement, the day on which their eternal destiny would be decided.

Private Fraser expresses his personal philosophy of life, shaped by Scottish Calvinism.

But there was another meaning that takes us back in the story to Lothlórien and the words that Galadriel spoke to the company as they prepared to continue their journey onward and wondered which way they should take.

“Do not trouble your hearts overmuch with thought of the road tonight. Maybe the paths that each of you shall tread are already laid before your feet, though you do not see them.”

And none of the Fellowship could see, at that moment, the paths that they were to follow in the days that followed their departure from Lothlórien. Only Boromir among them was absolutely certain which way he should go. He would go to Minas Tirith and he thought that the Fellowship should go with him. But Boromir’s journey ends when the Fellowship is broken. Aragorn is torn between his desire to go with Boromir to Minas Tirith, to the land over which he will become king, but feels that he cannot abandon Frodo. On the day of the breaking of the Fellowship he will make another choice completely and one that he never anticipated; he will follow Merry and Pippin across the plains of Rohan with Legolas and Gimli and while failing to find them will find Gandalf once more.

And Frodo and Sam are stuck in the barren Emyn Muil with seemingly no way forward.

It is a feature of our lives that we are aware for the most part only of the circumstances in which we find ourselves. Frodo and Sam have no awareness of the great events that are unfolding westwards that will lead to the fall of Isengard. They only know that at this moment they cannot find a path. But Frodo has a sense that he is a part of a bigger story, one that is carrying him along, even against his own will. This sense is called a belief in Providence. Gandalf told him that he was meant to have the Ring. Galadriel told him that his path was already laid before his feet. And even though at this point he has no idea how he will find that path he believes that it will be found. And in that faith he will keep on going. He will find a way to Mordor and his doom.

“Well, Master, We’re in a Fix and No Mistake.” Some Thoughts on Hobbits and Heroes.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) p. 787

I spent a pleasant evening with a friend in a pub recently (Thanks, Ben!) talking about The Lord of the Rings and we got to thinking about heroes and, more specifically, the kind of heroes that Tolkien’s hobbits are. We compared them to superheroes in, say, a Marvel comic or film. Now I was an avid reader of those comics as a boy and I am happy to say this with pride now with C.S Lewis’s thought in mind that he would rather see a boy reading a comic with pleasure than a classic novel because he thought he had to. I also fell in love with Narnia so I hope that would have pleased him too. I was fascinated by the characters of the heroes and their inner struggles just as much as their triumphs over evil. I was just starting to become aware of my own struggles and they gave me some comfort and the thought that I might be a hero too.

But we agreed that Tolkien created a different kind of hero in Frodo and Sam. In fact, as Tom Shippey has shown, he created the kind of hero that could only have been created in a 20th century story, the kind that would have experienced industrial warfare, as Tolkien and Lewis did on the Western Front of the First World War of 1914-18. And while in a Marvel story the hero comes to save the day while the rest of us run for cover or stand helplessly with our hands raised over our heads as the forces of evil destroy our city around us, Tolkien’s hobbits are more like us.

Yesterday I listened, deeply moved, to a news report that the French military attaché to the United Kingdom unexpectedly arrived at the hundredth birthday celebration of a veteran of the Normandy landings of June 1944 and presented him with France’s highest honour, the Legion d’honneur. I was moved by this because my father took part in those landings and, had he lived, would recently have celebrated his own hundredth birthday. I felt that my Dad was being honoured too. The old gentleman was interviewed on the radio and, speaking with admirable clarity, said that he did not feel that he deserved the award because, as he put it, “I was just there”. I think my father would have said the same thing. In fact the only story that he ever told us of the experience was that as he was going ashore on the Normandy beaches in his American built landing craft he noted that it had an ice-cream maker fitted and wondered what it was doing there. If any of my American readers know the answer please let me know in the comments below.

But that “I was just there” remark typifies Tom Shippey’s argument about the “heroes” of 20th century warfare. Whereas Lancelot, riding to rescue Guinevere from her captors, is a hero of romance, the veterans of the Normandy landings of 1944 were “just there”, doing their duty and trying to stay alive.

Tolkien gives us both kind of heroes in his story though he hardly ever used the word. In Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, following the orcs of Isengard across the plains of Rohan in the hope of freeing Merry and Pippin from their captivity we have the kind of hero that Sir Thomas Malory would have recognised in his Morte D’Arthur. In Frodo and Sam trying to find a way down from the Emyn Muil to the livid marshes below we have something quite different. They are more like the men going ashore on the Normandy beaches in 1944. They just keep going. Or, at least, they try to.

But Frodo and Sam give a dignity to every person who has ever just kept on going, trying their best to do whatever good they can in their lives. I have had conversations with my daughters about this recently as they have looked in horror at evils in the world and have wondered what can be done. I have thought about it in reference to my own life as I have asked myself the question, “What use have I been?” And like Frodo and Sam, I won’t pretend that my story has been like Aragorn’s or Lancelot’s although there was a time when I wanted to be like that, but, whether I ever write it down or not, I will try to create my own Red Book in my head of what I have tried to do, of how I have tried to answer Gandalf’s principle that all any of us can do is “to decide what to do with the time that is given us”.

And not to give up.

Ten Years of Wisdom From The Lord of the Rings on WordPress.

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It was on October 30th 2013 that I first posted on WordPress seeking Wisdom From The Lord of the Rings. On those first two days I was so excited that nine people around the world had read the introduction to my work. By the end of that year those nine had been added to by a further 390 and so my project had begun.

My daughter, Bethan took this photo of me outside the rooms where she taught Modern European History at Magdalen College, Oxford last year. Fans of the Inklings will know that it was on Addison’s Walk in the gardens of the College that Tolkien and Lewis went for the famous walk that ended with Lewis’s conversion to Christianity.

My first encounter with The Lord of the Rings came in the autumn of 1968. I was 13 years old and a pupil at the Royal Grammar School in High Wycombe, one of those schools originally founded in the middle of the 16th century in England. And while Tolkien attended a school originally founded in Birmingham by Edward VI, the only son of Henry VIII, mine was founded a few years later by his half-sister, Elizabeth I.

It is worth noting that in 1968 comparatively little of Tolkien’s work had been published and The Silmarillion was yet to come. So apart from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit little was known of the history of Middle-earth except what could be found in the appendices to The Return of the King. But I was a lover and not a scholar and so, in the years to come I returned to what I knew again and again, always with a sense of melancholy as Frodo’s ship went into the West but with the knowledge that I could return to the beginning on another occasion.

It was in the first decade of this century that I began to wonder if I might write about the book that I loved and as I read it once again I began to fill notebooks with my thoughts on the text and to find references to the ideas that I was gleaning from it. I thought that forty years of reading Tolkien might give me some kind of authority to write about his work. But nothing seemed to flow until one evening at home I watched a movie on TV with my wife and younger daughter, Rebecca, and a new idea came to mind.

The movie was called Julie and Julia and in it I was introduced to a thing called a blog. The movie told the story of a young New Yorker, Julie Powell, who decided to cook all 520 recipes in the book written by the legendary cook, Julia Childs in a single year and to tell the story in a blog. As well as enjoying the story itself I began to realise that while I could not construct whole chapters on my favourite book I could construct a short piece of 700 to 800 words. My mind seemed to think in arguments of that kind of length quite naturally. After all I was a church minister, a priest of the Church of England, and I constructed sermons that felt like that.

The first year was a bit of a struggle and in 2014 I published irregularly and my work was read by just a handful of people each day. In 2015 I began to write more regularly and my readership grew to a dozen a day. I would publish a piece once a week and that felt all right within my other commitments. In November 2016 my readership grew to over a thousand in that month for the first time and thereafter kept on steadily growing and by the time I was was appointed to my current post in December 2018 I was being read by about 2000 people each month.

At that point I felt that I could not write regularly and minister to seven busy parishes in rural Worcestershire close to where Tolkien grew up and where his mother’s family used to farm on a farm known locally as Bag End. There was a gap in my publishing of over a year but to my surprise my readership held up pretty well. People were still finding and reading my work.

Then came Covid in March 2020 and we were all locked away inside our homes. Suddenly I had time to write and people had time to read. During that spring and summer I got two mentions in Google News and suddenly my readership grew from a little over 2,000 a month to around 5,000. Even after I was able to return to more normal working practices I kept on writing, getting up at around 5 a.m on a Saturday morning and writing my 700 to 800 words. A further leap in my readership came in the autumn of 2022 with Amazon’s Rings of Power and in September and October of that year I got over 11,000 readers. The number fell back a little bit after the series ended but during this year I have had regularly had between 8,000 and 9,000 readers a month and by the end of 2023 I will have had over 100,000 readers during the year for the very first time. It is a long way from the handful that I was getting each day ten years ago. Over 50 pieces that I have written have been read over 1,000 times and my two most popular posts have been read over 20,000 times.

It has been a rich experience and I would like to say a special thank you to the people who have accompanied me along the way. Brenton Dickieson who writes the blog, A Pilgrim in Narnia, has been an important regular encourager and I will always remember the weekend that he stayed with us as he made his way from Prince Edward Island in Canada to Oxford to give a lecture to the C.S Lewis Society there. We went walking in the Malvern Hills above the town where Lewis went to school and found places to which Lewis made reference in his imaginative works. And I am still incredibly excited every time I see a comment and know that a new conversation might be about to begin with someone new. Just leave a comment and we can start to talk.

So thank you everyone for travelling with me along the way. And thank you to WordPress for being such enabling hosts. I wonder where the blog is going to take me next.

“Down Into The Land of Shadow.” Tolkien’s Ending of The Fellowship of the Ring.

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The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp.397-398

Those who came to know The Lord of the Rings through the films that were made some twenty years ago by Peter Jackson will have been surprised when they first read Tolkien’s own ending to the first volume of his trilogy, The Fellowship of the Ring. Tolkien gives us no battles, no brave self-sacrifice from Merry and Pippin offering themselves to the orcs so that Frodo can escape, no farewell by Aragorn to Frodo, and no heroic death of Boromir. That last will take place off stage at the beginning of The Two Towers. Instead he gives us this…

“So Frodo and Sam set off on the last stage of the Quest together. Frodo paddled away from the shore and the River bore them swiftly away, down the western arm, and past the frowning cliffs of Tol Brandir”

Frodo and Sam struggle to get past the current of the river that seeks to drag them over the mighty falls and so at last make their way to the east bank, and then…

“At length they came to land again upon the southern slopes of Amon Lhaw. There they found a shelving shore, and they drew the boat out high above the water, and hid it as well as they could behind a great boulder. Then shouldering their burdens, they set off, seeking a path that would bring them over the grey hills of the Emyn Muil, and down into the Land of Shadow.”

We can understand why Peter Jackson decided to end his first film differently and I, alongside the packed theatre audience who witnessed the film, was glad to stand and applaud it. It was a masterpiece in its own right and I could not wait for the release of The Two Towers which is what Jackson had intended.

But Tolkien had his reasons for ending this first part of his great story in this way and if I were to try to create the scene as I think Tolkien intended us to see it I would slowly draw the camera back from Frodo and Sam as they set off on their journey until all we could see was two small figures set against a vast and empty wasteland.

There is an old and deeply poignant prayer of the Breton people of France whose ancient language is related to Welsh, a tongue that Tolkien loved. It simply states that “O God, thy sea is so great and my boat is so small.” I have known it for some time through a collection of prayers from the Celtic tradition of which the Breton tongue is a part but discovered while preparing this blog post that an American admiral gave a small plaque to President John Kennedy, a fellow sailor, with this prayer inscribed upon it. The point of the prayer, as President Kennedy received it, was to remind us of our smallness against the vastness of the universe in which we are set. Kennedy kept the plaque on his desk in the Oval Office throughout his term of office to teach him humility. Presidents need such reminders in a way that Breton fisher folk do not. For them, and for all the “little” people of the earth, it is enough that they must set out each day into a world that is so much bigger than they are, and Tolkien intends us to see Frodo and Sam among such people. Their journey is not heroic in the sense that it is a conquest of the world although Elrond was right to compare Frodo to the great heroic figures of the First Age like Hurin and Beren, it is heroic in the sense that ordinary life is heroic. Ordinary folk shoulder their burdens and set out, seeking a path through a life that is so much bigger than they are. Frodo and Sam know that what they seek to do is far too big a task for people like them but they do it anyway because it is a task that they have been given to do.

Surely Tolkien drew here upon his memories of the ordinary soldiers on the Western Front in the First World War who did their job against overwhelming odds and did not see their lives as wasted because doing their job was what life was all about. It reminds me of a conversation I once had with a woman whose husband had worked all his life in a job that he hated in order to feed his family and did it with pride so that the high point of his week was to cook breakfast on a Sunday morning and to share it with them all. That is the kind of heroism that Frodo and Sam represent.

“It’s No Good Trying to Escape You.” Frodo and Sam Set Off For Mordor Together.

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The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 395-398

Even though all the Fellowship recognise the wisdom of Sam’s words when he spoke of how Frodo was determined to go alone to Mordor, and that the time that he was taking was not to make up his mind about the right course of action but to find the courage to begin, the debate is not at an end. Merry and Pippin, at least, are still certain that they all should all go to Minas Tirith. It is only when Boromir arrives that the story is able to move on.

‘”Where have you been, Boromir?” asked Aragorn. “Have you seen Frodo?”‘

Boromir is not ready yet to tell his story, to admit his failure, but he says enough to throw the rest of the Company into panic and despite Aragorn’s efforts to prevent them Merry and Pippin run off in one direction, Legolas and Gimli in another and Sam in another yet.

“Boromir! I do not know what part you have played in this mischief, but help now! Go after those two young hobbits, and guard them at the least, even if you cannot find Frodo.”

And so Aragorn runs after Sam while Boromir makes his final journey in search of redemption. For he will fall in battle while doing as Aragorn had commanded, willingly laying down his life for the hobbits, willingly paying with his life for his attempt to seize the Ring from Frodo by force.

Once again it is Sam, who is closest to the mind and heart of Frodo, who works out what is really going on. After Aragorn catches and passes him, making his way up to Amon Hen, Sam realises that Frodo is making his way to the boats using the invisibility that the Ring gives him, and that it is Frodo’s intention to escape them all. Desperately, Sam makes his way towards the place to where the boats are moored, caring nothing now for anything, not even for his own life, as long as he can find Frodo. Even his fear of water will not stop him until the moment comes when he fears that he will drown.

“Save me, Mr. Frodo!” gasped Sam. “I’m drownded. I can’t see your hand.”

At last Frodo gets them all safe back to shore but he is furious, convinced that Sam has come to do what he feared the most, to prevent him from going to Mordor. It is only when he realises that Sam wants to help him do what he planned that he relaxes at last and is actually pleased that Sam has caught him.

“So all my plan is spoilt!” said Frodo. “It’s no good trying to escape you. But I’m glad, Sam. I cannot tell you how glad. Come along! It is plain that we were meant to go together. We will go, and may the others find a safe road! Strider will look after them. I don’t suppose we shall see them again.”

So it is Boromir who sends each member of the Fellowship towards the place that they must go. Merry and Pippin will be carried by the Uruk-hai of Isengard just in time to meet Treebeard who has made a rare visit to a hill on the eastern border of Fangorn Forest. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas, while in the process of a vain pursuit of the young hobbits, will arrive in Fangorn just in time to meet Gandalf and so rouse Rohan and their king from deadly slumber to great deeds. And Frodo and Sam will go step by step towards Mordor and the destruction of the Ring.

Frodo is sure that he is going to his death but he is at peace with his choice. All that he has to do is to do his duty. But Sam is not so sure that they are going to die. Nothing will keep him from staying with Frodo right to the very end but he has not forgotten the Shire and his heart lies there. Will he see the others again?

“We may, Mr. Frodo. We may. ”

“If He Screws Himself Up to Go, He’ll Want to Go Alone.” Sam Gamgee Tells The Fellowship What Frodo Will Decide.

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The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 393-394

While Frodo is making up his mind about what he is to do and after Boromir has tried to take the Ring from him the rest of the Fellowship continue to debate about which way all of them should go and about what choice Frodo ought to make. It is clear that the majority consider that the sensible option is to go to Minas Tirith but then Sam speaks up.

“I don’t think you understand my master at all. He isn’t hesitating about which way to go… He knows that he has to find the Cracks of Doom if he can. But he’s afraid.”

Sam, of all of the Fellowship, is not thinking about what he should, or wishes, to do. He made his choice in Lothlórien when he looked into Galadriel’s Mirror and saw the danger that was to threaten the Shire. He decided then that whatever was happening behind him he must go with Frodo to Mordor. And he knows that Frodo will go there because it is the task that he has been given and that when he makes up his mind to go, to “screw himself up”, as Sam puts it, he will want to go alone. And so Sam is not worried about which way to go. He is simply afraid that Frodo will want to go alone without him.

Aragorn knows that Sam is right. There are some courses of action that require the simple giving of orders but Aragorn knows that this is not one of those. This is why he has gathered them together in a circle and also why it did not concern him that Boromir had not been a part of the circle. He knew that Boromir had already made his decision and so did not need to be a part of the discussion. This wisdom is expressed in the Benedictine tradition of Christian monasticism in the Chapter House. This house was designed in the shape of a circle so that the abbot could gather with the whole community to make those decisions that required a common mind. While in the circle every voice was to be heard, even the voice of the most junior member of the community, and Aragorn will not make a decision until every voice has been heard. There is even a moment when he thinks that the decision has been made and that it is time to give orders. He will go with Frodo and with Sam and Gimli to Mordor while Legolas and Boromir will go with Merry and Pippin to Minas Tirith but there is enough uncertainty in his mind to for him to realise that even at this point the debate is not at an end which is why he is still ready to listen to Sam.

The Chapter House in Wells Cathedral

It is when Sam speaks that Aragorn realises that the key point within the debate has been made. Sam has spoken the truth for which he has been seeking and even though Pippin still tries to argue against what Sam has said and what Frodo will seek to do Aragorn realises that the decision has been made whether he, or any other, agrees with it or not.

And Aragorn has been listening to another voice throughout the debate, one that is not physically present but one that will speak the truth for which he has been seeking. When Pippin argues that Frodo must be prevented from going to Mordor alone Aragorn replies:

“He is the Bearer, and the fate of the Burden is on him. I do not think it is our part to drive him one way or the other. Nor do I think that we should succeed if we tried. There are other powers at work far stronger.”

When Aragorn speaks of “powers at work” he is not talking about Frodo’s strength of character, considerable though that is. He is talking about a power that guides and moves the course of things. Some people will look for a flow with which they seek to align their own actions while others will give that power a name. But however we see reality, if we are wise, we will seek to learn how to discern this power. Galadriel spoke of the how the paths of each member of the Company were already laid before their feet and that therefore they should not be overly concerned about which course of action they should take. At this moment none of the Fellowship know what is about to befall them but Aragorn knows what way Frodo will go and that it is not his part to oppose it.

“Take Off the Ring!” Frodo’s Inner Struggle Upon Amon Hen.

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The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 391-392

It all begins because Frodo has to flee from Boromir wearing the Ring in order to do so. Frodo climbs up the slopes of Amon Hen and finally reaches its top.

“He saw as through a mist a wide flat circle, paved with mighty flags, and surrounded with a crumbling battlement: and in the middle, set upon four carven pillars, was a high seat, reached by a stair of many steps.”

The high seat upon Amon Hen has always been a place set apart for reflection, an expression of the belief that if only we can get high enough, if only we can somehow rise above all the chaos that surrounds us, we will achieve a kind of clarity and will know what we must do. But in all the long years since first the seat was placed upon this hill top by the men of Númenor there has never been a moment like this. No-one has been able to see as Frodo does because no-one has sat upon the chair while wearing the Ring.

And what Frodo sees is war. “The Misty Mountains were crawling like anthills; orcs were issuing out of a thousand holes. Under the boughs of Mirkwood there was deadly strife of Elves and Men and fell beasts. The land of the Beornings was aflame; a cloud was over Moria; smoke rose on the borders of Lórien.”

And last of all, and perhaps inevitably, Frodo’s gaze is drawn towards the place in which the Ring was forged and the tower in which its master dwells: “wall upon wall, battlement upon battlement, black, immeasurably strong, mountain of iron, gate of steel, tower of adamant, he saw it: Barad-dûr, Fortress of Sauron. All hope left him.”

It is at this moment that Frodo becomes aware that someone is searching eagerly, voraciously, for him, for the Ring that he is now wearing; and that this creature, whose very being has become an embodiment of desire, so entire, that if the thing that he longs for were to cease to exist there would be nothing left of him but a memory of what he once was, will find him. And it is at this moment too that he becomes strangely aware of a familiar voice telling him to take off the Ring.

“Take it off! Take it off! Fool, take it off! Take off the Ring!

The struggle lasts only for a moment but during that time the whole fate of Middle-earth lies, literally, in the balance. Frodo is held, “perfectly balanced” between the Voice and the Eye. If Sauron is able to find him, to identify exactly where he is, then he will regain the Ring at last and darkness will fall.

Crucially, this moment is resolved when Frodo becomes “aware of himself again” as one who is free to choose and he takes off the Ring. “Then all the sky was clean and blue and birds sang in every tree.”

Frodo is not only able to think for himself again but he is able to achieve a clarity of purpose that all his seeing could never give him. Not that the vision that he has been given upon Amon Hen has been of no value for it has enabled him to see that he cannot put his trust in any power outside of himself because every power is as nothing compared to the power that resides within Barad-dûr. All that he has is the Self who is able to make this choice, the choice to go alone to Mordor.

The problem with hope is, as T.S Eliot puts it in his Four Quartets, is that “hope would be hope for the wrong thing.” There is no hope for Frodo in Minas Tirith because, for all its courageous beauty, it cannot stand at the last before the power that is rising against it. All that he has is himself and the choice that he made at the Council of Elrond to take the Ring to the Fire though he did not know the way. As Eliot puts it, following his teacher, St John of the Cross, we come to the point in which all hope has been stripped away and there we find, as Frodo does, that “the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing”.

“Give It To Me!” Boromir Tries to Take The Ring From Frodo.

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The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 387-390

We have heard this before. The long speech full of self-justification and fine sounding words. But when we heard this speech before it came from the mouth of Saruman when he gave it to Gandalf in Isengard, calling upon Gandalf to co-operate with him and with Sauron. Do the greatest crimes always require such grandiosity? Are such justifications always couched in terms of a particular action being an exception to moral law?

After Aragorn announced to the Fellowship that the day of choice had come, the day on which they would have to decide whether to make a journey directly towards Mordor on the east bank of the Anduin or to remain on the west bank and go to Minas Tirith, Frodo was given permission to spend an hour in thought alone. And it was during this time that Boromir finds him and begins to declare his mind.

The speech begins with kindliness as it must. If the speaker intends to justify a crime then they must first establish their intention to do good.

“Are you sure that you do not suffer needlessly?” Boromir says. “I wish to help you. You need counsel in your hard choice. Will you not take mine?”

So the speech begins with sweet reason but soon it begins to display the same kind of exceptionalism that we saw in Saruman. He spoke to Gandalf about the failing of the Elves and of “dying Númenor”, and of “weak or idle friends”, and all this is with the intention of justify his own desire to rule and his need to obtain the One Ring in order to do so. Boromir also speaks dismissively of “elves and half-elves and wizards”, of their claim to be wise which he considers to be merely a cloak for timidity. And for Boromir it is “failing Númenor” that is the exception, “true-hearted Men” who “will not be corrupted”. It is the same speech albeit with a different cast of characters and a different exception. And in both speeches what begins with a we ends inexorably with an I.

“The Ring would give me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!”

Compare these speeches to the words that Gandalf and Galadriel speak when Frodo offers the Ring to them. They both acknowledge what they might do if they were to possess the Ring and both are tempted to take it so that they might do good through its possession. But both know that the achievement of personal power always ends with a contempt for the lives of others. Others exist merely for the sake of the one who rules. Saruman and Boromir dismiss this refusal of personal power as timidity. Gandalf and Galadriel have both achieved this rejection of power for the sake of personal gain through long inner struggle and it is that struggle that proves vital in the ultimate destruction of the Ring and the overthrow of Sauron.

There is a wonderful moment in The Lord of the Rings in which Tolkien exposes the true reality of the speeches that Saruman and Boromir make and that comes when Gollum makes the same speech to himself, to his Sméagol self, during the journey that he makes with Frodo and Sam through the desolation before Mordor.

“See, my precious: if we has it, then we can escape, even from Him, eh? Perhaps we grows very strong, stronger than Wraiths. Lord Sméagol? Gollum the Great? The Gollum! Eat fish every day, fresh from the sea. Most Precious Gollum! Must have it! We wants it, we wants it, we wants it!”

It may be that Gollum’s ambition goes no further than a desire to eat fresh fish three times a day but once you realise that it is the same speech as Saruman and Boromir both make then you realise also that all desire for power for the sake of self-aggrandisement is ultimately as pathetic as is Gollum’s. It is not that Gandalf, Galadriel and Elrond reject the use of power, but that power must be wielded for the Common Good and with as much restraint as possible. They also recognise that their part in the story of Middle-earth is soon to reach its conclusion, that they have played their part in it, and they recognise that power must pass to the ordained authority, which is the kingship that Aragorn will bear.

“Give it to me!”

“We wants it, we wants it, we wants it!”

The same speech. The same tragic desire.