“Now, Lord… Look Out Upon Your Land. Breathe the Free Air Again.” Théoden Begins to Emerge From Dark Thoughts into Free Action.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 671-673

The first thing that Gandalf does after freeing Théoden from the malign influence of Wormtongue is to bring him out from his hall into the chill morning air as winter begins to give way to spring in the world about Edoras, and Théoden gives careful attention to the weather that they encounter.

“From the porch upon the top of the high terrace they could see beyond the stream the green fields of Rohan fading into distant grey. Curtains of wind-blown rain were slanting down. The sky above and to the west was still dark with thunder, and the lightning far away flickered among the tops of hidden hills. But the wind had shifted to the north, and already the storm that had come out of the East was receding, rolling away southward to the sea. Suddenly through a rent in the clouds behind them a shaft of sun stabbed down. The falling showers gleamed like silver, and far away the river glittered like a shimmering glass.”

This is a passage full of symbolic meaning. The storm coming out of the east being blown away by a wind from the north and light breaking through dark clouds turning everything into silver. So it was that Eorl the Young rode out of the North to deliver Gondor long ago and now deliverance is coming out of the North in the form of the entirely unexpected returning King and the entirely unlikely form of a hobbit going step by step toward Orodruin and the Cracks of Doom.

Like all great writers, Tolkien is capable of offering his readers layers of meaning within his use of imagery, just as his characters, and his readers too, have the capacity to read the same layers of meaning both in the text and in daily experience, if we should choose to do so. We might choose to limit our reading of text and experience to the random elements that make them up but we would be impoverished if we were to to do this. Théoden’s comment as he breathes the air outside his hall is to remark, with austere simplicity that it is not so dark there, but we know from what we have learned about Théoden’s recent experience how much is contained within these words. It is clear that he is choosing to read his experience of weather in a meaningful way and this deliberate giving of meaning will both continue his healing and enable him to enter into the realm of free action once again following his imprisonment within the darkness of his hall.

Gandalf deliberately chooses to bring Théoden into an unprotected experience of weather precisely to bring him into freedom once again. While Wormtongue has sought to persuade him that everything outside the protected realm of Meduseld is a threat of danger that is to be feared, Gandalf does nothing to diminish this sense of threat. Indeed he tells Théoden that he is “come into a peril greater than the wit of Wormtongue” could weave into his dreams. But even as he admits the reality of the peril, Gandalf also shows Théoden the joy of simply being alive and fully alive. Théoden is no longer crippled by fear. If he is to die then he will embrace this reality too and will not fear it.

The contrast between the protected space of a dwelling place and the unprotected reality of the world outside is one that Tolkien often returns to in The Lord of the Rings. Later, in The Return of the King we will learn that Sauron constantly weaves “veils of Shadow” about himself in Barad-dûr. In many ways he is the master-hider from reality, both hating and fearing the real. But if he is the biggest example of the way in which a dwelling place is created primarily by fear of what lies outside it, many others copy him. Even Rivendell and Lothlórien are hidden and protected realms, descendents, in their way, of Nargothrond, Gondolin and Doriath. And although we thought about how in Treebeard’s dwelling in Wellinghall there was little distinction between the world outside it and the world inside nevertheless the Ents sought to make the forest a protected space for the thriving of trees. Maybe only Gandalf lives a pilgrim life that is undefended but he too needs homes in which to rest and be restored. Perhaps at best we need a rhythm of free air and weather, but homes to live in too, and Théoden has lived too long at home and needs to breathe again if he is to find wholeness once more.

“Your Fingers Would Remember Their Old Strength Better, if They Grasped a Sword-hilt.” Gandalf and The Healing of Théoden.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 671-677

It is in the record for the 2nd of March in the year 3019 of the Third Age in the Tale of Years that we are told explicitly, “Gandalf comes to Edoras and heals Théoden.” And yet what kind of healing is this when the patient will be dead within two weeks, falling in battle before Minas Tirith, slain by the Lord of the Nazgûl? Surely if Gandalf had left Théoden to the darkness of Meduseld and the care of Wormtongue he would have lived longer. At least until the armies of Saruman overcame the defence of Edoras and he fell in his own hall.

Last week we thought about how Gandalf overthrew Wormtongue, revealing for a brief moment something of his greatness and power, now made all the more potent after he was sent back again by command of Ilúvatar to complete his work in Middle-earth. And as Wormtongue grovels on the floor Gandalf calls Théoden to rise from his chair and leave the darkness of his hall. At first Théoden’s steps are uncertain and he is aided by Éowyn, sister of Éomer and Théoden’s niece. But even as he begins to walk again strength slowly returns to his body and as he steps out of the doors of his hall he takes in deep breaths of fresh cool air and feels the rain upon his face.

“It is not so dark here,” he says to Gandalf. And Gandalf replies, “Nor does age lie so heavily on your shoulders as some would have you think”

At Gandalf’s bidding Théoden casts aside his stick and draws himself up slowly, “as a man that is stiff from long bending over some dull toil”.

Théoden calls for Éomer to be released from his imprisonment, imposed upon him after his disobedience in riding north to deal with the orc company that were going to Isengard bearing Pippin and Merry as prisoners and for threatening death to Wormtongue in Théoden’s presence. As they wait for Éomer to come Gandalf secretly takes Théoden into his confidence about Frodo’s mission to take the Ring to Mordor and as he does so “the light shone brighter in Théoden’s eyes, and at the last he rose from his seat to his full height”.

For a brief moment Théoden is stirred by the tale of Frodo’s bravery and the hope of victory but soon he becomes aware again of the slenderness of that hope and slumps back into a seat. Like Frodo in the study at Bag End a year before he bemoans his fate that such evil things should come to him instead of the peace that old age has earned and he clutches at his knees with his wrinkled hands.

“Your fingers would remember their old strength better, if they grasped a sword hilt,” said Gandalf.

Éomer offers Théoden his own sword and new strength surges through the body of the old man. He swings the sword aloft and cries out a mighty call to arms.

“Forth Eorlingas!”

The King of Rohan will go to war at the head of his men.

Glory lies ahead of him in the last days of his life and he will be remembered as the greatest King of Rohan since Eorl himself rode victoriously to the relief of Gondor many years before. But the question remains to be answered. What kind of healing does Gandalf perform when the patient’s life is almost certainly shortened by it? Was not Théoden right in saying that he had earned the right to peace in his old age?

It was Abraham Lincoln, another man whose life was violently foreshortened, who said that “it’s not the years in your life that count, but the life in your years”. Such a spirit seems to run very much counter to the contemporary desire to extend life for as long as possible, even to achieve some form of immortality. And this is not only a desire of our own time. Tolkien gave us the Kings of Númenor who were seduced by Sauron to resent death as a form of unjust punishment who tried to seize immortality by force. Elendil’s faithfulness in opposing his king and Sauron meant an acceptance of death but also, as Aragorn was one day to say to Arwen that “we are not bound to the circles of the world, and beyond them there is more than memory”. Théoden, in accepting his healing, foreshortens his life but in those last days he lives that life to its fulness.

“I Have Not Passed Through Fire and Death to Bandy Crooked Words With a Serving-Man Till The Lightning Falls. ” Gandalf Overcomes Wormtongue in Meduseld.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 668-671

As Gandalf and his companions enter the hall of Théoden Tolkien gives us many contrasts. The light of the sun falls only upon the image of Eorl the Young while everything else is in cloying darkness. A man sits upon a gilded chair “so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf; but his white hair was long and thick and fell in great braids from beneath a thin golden circlet set upon his brow.” This man has a beard that reaches his knees “but his eyes still burned with a bright light”.

In other words we are meant to see that the decline of the House of Eorl is only superficial. There is a potency within Rohan that now lies hidden but could be unveiled in a moment. Gandalf knows this and appeals to Théoden to join the conflict against Sauron.

But there is one other person who is, perhaps, more aware than any of the hidden power of Rohan and that is Grima, Wormtongue, the King’s chief counsellor. He has long been secretly in the service of Saruman ever working to weaken the resistance of the Rohirrim against his true master, ever weakening the resolve of Théoden to resist him. When Saruman was not at open war against Rohan it was easy to convince Théoden that he posed no threat. But when open war began Wormtongue’s task became more difficult. Now what he sought to achieve was to weaken Théoden’s resolve and to convince him that his only hope lay in keeping the larger part of his force within Edoras so that in the battle at the Fords of the Isen where Théodred, Théoden’s son fell in battle, his armies were insufficient in number to mount an effective defence. And, perhaps worst of all, the King of Rohan was sitting upon a chair in his darkened hall while his people were falling in battle vainly seeking to defend their homes.

In his guise as the Grey Pilgrim Gandalf has always sought to achieve his purpose by encouragement and persuasion. He has never used force except by necessity. He has remained true to the charge that the Istari, the wizards, were given by the Valar not “to reveal themselves in forms of majesty, or to seek to rule the wills of Men or Elves by open display of power” (Unfinished Tales p.389). As the secret keeper of Narya the Red, one of the three Elven Rings forged by Celebrimbor he has sought to kindle hearts and not to dominate them. But now the great crisis of the Third Age of Arda has come. There is no longer the time to work in this way. in time past Gandalf had been willing to accept rejection patiently, to withdraw from Edoras as he did upon Shadowfax after his escape from Isengard, but now there is no time to act in this fashion. Saruman is at open war with Rohan and, worst of all, so is the Dark Lord in Mordor.

And so in this moment when a choice must be made Gandalf casts aside his tattered cloak and reveals himself in power.

“The wise speak only of what they know, Grima son of Gálmód. A witless worm you have become. Therefore be silent, and keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a serving-man till the lightning falls.”

There is a particular kind of wisdom required to know the true moment of crisis when all normal forms of action must be cast aside and replaced by decision. Some are too quick to do this and so act too soon. Gandalf knows that patient diplomacy is now insufficient, that if Rohan remains passive it will fall, so too will Gondor, and ultimately so will all the free peoples of Middle-earth and so night will fall. Gandalf has passed through his own personal crisis in his battle against the Balrog of Moria that ended with his death and so no longer fears anything less than that. He must rouse Théoden from his illusion of decrepitude and with the King restored to who he truly is so too will the Rohirrim rediscover their greatness.

“Upon One Form the Sunlight Fell. A Young Man Upon a White Horse”. Eorl the Young in the Hall of a Broken King.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp.660-668

The hall of the King of Rohan is an unhappy place. In Peter Jackson’s film, The Two Towers, this is effectively depicted by giving Edoras the sense that it is a barren place where nothing grows with a harsh wind sweeping through it. As Gandalf and his companions arrive at the doors of Meduseld they are met first with suspicion and are even refused entry. But at last word comes that they are to be permitted to enter and so they approach Théoden in his darkened hall.

Tolkien tells us that “The hall was long and wide and filled with shadows and half lights”. The travellers need a few moments to allow their eyes to adjust to the darkness within but as they do so they begin to see that “the pillars were richly carved, gleaming dully with gold and half-seen colours”.

This is the world within which the King of Rohan lives. A “half-seen” world. He spends his days seated upon a gilded chair, “a man so bent with age that he seemed almost a dwarf”. Théoden is a broken man, one so given to age that it feels as if there is no life left in him. It is a theme displayed within the Grail legend that when the King is wounded, robbed of life and of fruitfulness, the whole land becomes a desert, incapable of sustaining life.

One thing within the hall seems to break through this barren darkness.

“Many woven cloths were hung upon the walls, and over their wide spaces marched figures of ancient legend, some dim with years, some darkling in the shade. But upon one form the sunlight fell: a young man upon a white horse. He was blowing a great horn, and his yellow hair was flowing in the wind.”

This is Eorl the Young, the first King of Rohan, who rode out of the North at the head of his men to the aid of the armies of Gondor who were hard-pressed in battle upon the Field of Celebrant. After victory in the battle Eorl and Cirion, Steward of Gondor, swore oaths to one another at the tomb of Elendil upon the hallowed Hill of Halifirien. Cirion gave the plains of Calenardhon to Eorl and his descendents to be their land in perpetuity, swearing the same oath of alliance that Elendil had sworn to Gil-galad before they went to war with Sauron together at the end of the Second Age. Eorl promised that if ever Gondor were in great need again Rohan would ride to their aid “and whatsoever evil, or threat, or assault may come upon them we will aid them to the utmost end of our strength,”

It is this image upon which Théoden has to gaze from his chair from day to day. This image of youthful vigour and the story with which Théoden would have been raised from his youth stands in judgement over his aged and decrepit form and over the people who once rode to glory behind their lord and now sink into shame behind this dying king. It is Saruman who will name this shame. “What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the dogs?”

Théoden feels this shame deeply every day. At the end of his life when his body lies broken beneath his horse at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields he will name it, ” I go to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset.”

Théoden lives in shame each day that he looks upon his mighty ancestors but although shame cripples the one who feels it shame is always hated. The one who feels it never comes to accept it. At any moment the one who feels shame can cry out in angry protest against it. No one, least of all the one who feels shame, can predict when this moment will come. Nor in the story that Tolkien tells can Wormtongue, the King’s chief counsellor, who is deliberately dragging Théoden into the misery and degradation that he now feels in order that he will not make effective resistance to Saruman in the war that now rages.

“Where Now The Horse and The Rider?” Aragorn Sings of The Brevity of Human Life.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 660-665

After a hard and weary crossing of the plains of Rohan Gandalf and his three companions arrive at the feet of the White Mountains and to Meduseld, the hall of Théoden amidst the courts of Edoras. Legolas is the first to see them clearly and Gandalf asks him to describe what he can see.

“I see a white stream that comes from the snows,” he said. “Where it issues from the shadow of the vale a great hill rises upon the east. A dike and mighty wall and thorny fence encircle it. Within there rise the roofs of houses; and in the midst, set upon a green terrace, there stands aloft a great hall of Men. And it seems to my eyes that it is thatched with gold.”

As the road draws near to the gates of Edoras it passes under many grassy mounds covered with white flowers. These are the barrows in which the kings of Rohan lie. There are sixteen of them, “seven mounds upon the left, and nine upon the right”, and the first was raised 500 years before this time. To Legolas it is but a little while but to the Riders of the Mark this seems so long ago “that the raising of this house is but a memory in song, and the years before are lost in the mist of time.”

There are many barrows in England, none of which are made beautiful by Evermind. They are thousands of years old and “lost in the mist of time” and yet to Legolas this would still be but a little while.

This contrast between the immensity of time itself and the brevity of each human life within it is one of the major themes within Tolkien’s works. Elves and Men feel this contrast in different ways but both feel its sadness. Elves are immortal unless they suffer violent death and yet they live amidst change and decay. The three Rings that Celebrimbor forged in the Second Age and hid from Sauron were an effort to mitigate the effects of Time. They have done much good and Gandalf himself bears one of them, using it secretly to warm human hearts wherever he goes, but they are ultimately a futile effort to prevent what is inevitable. And for humankind, while they feel deeply the immensity of time they feel also how short each life within time is doomed to be.

Aragorn has been here before. In the days of his lonely wanderings in Middle-earth after learning from Elrond his true identity as the heir of Isildur and Elendil he served both the Steward of Gondor and the King of Rohan, preparing in hope for the day on which he would claim the throne. Thanks to the way in which he has inherited the longevity of the Númenorians he has already lived a long life by the time he returns to Edoras. He is older than Théoden and none of the people who now live in Rohan have any memory of him from the days of Thengel, Théoden’s father. In his time among the Rohirrim he mastered their language and now he begins to sing from the Lay of Eorl, words “laden with the sadness of Mortal Men”.

Where now the horse and the rider? Where  is the horn that was blowing?
Where is the helm and the hauberk, and the bright hair flowing?
Where is the hand on the harpstring, and the red fire glowing?
Where is the spring and the harvest and the tall corn growing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow. 
Who shall gather the smoke of the dead wood burning, 
Or behold the flowing years from the Sea returning?

Tolkien draws here from the poetry of the people who created kingdoms in England after the departure of the Romans in 410 A.D. Like the Rohirrim they felt the brevity of life deeply, the tragedy of what it is to be human, to be aware of the immensity of time and space, of the possibility of the eternal, and to know that life is too short to explore the potential of all this. He knew the story that St Bede recounted in his history of the English people, of Bishop Paulinus standing before the King of Northumbria and telling him of the Christian faith. And of how, after Paulinus had finished speaking that Coifi, the high priest replied and spoke of how to be human is to be like a bird in winter flying from the dark and storm outside the hall of the King and enjoying, for a brief moment, the light and warmth within before returning again to the cold and dark outside. “So man appears on earth for a little while,” Coifi concludes, “but of what went before this life, or what follows, we know nothing.”

And so the scene is set for the encounter between the travellers and Théoden in Meduseld, upon whom, with the malicious aid of Wormtongue, this tragic sense of life lies so heavily.

“Wish Me Joy, My Liege-Lord and Healer!” A Happy Ending to the Story of Éowyn and Aragorn.

After Théoden is laid to rest with the highest honour ever given to a king of Rohan Éomer is proclaimed as the new king. He stands before his people and all his guests as lord of his hall and speaks of joy.

“Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Prince of Ithilien, asks that Éowyn Lady of Rohan should be his wife, and she grants it full willing. Therefore they shall be trothplighted before you all.”

And then, at last, Éowyn is able to look Aragorn in the eyes without shame or fear and she speaks to him: “Wish me joy, my liege-lord and healer!”

And so the story that began when Aragorn aided Gandalf in the freeing of Théoden from bondage comes to the happiest of endings. Of course this shared story ended when Éowyn gave her heart to Faramir in the gardens of the Houses of Healing and when Aragorn and Arwen were wed on Midsummer Day but at this moment in Meduseld where the story began it ends in joy with the words that they speak freely to each other. For when Éowyn asks for Aragorn’s blessing he is able, freely, to give it.

“I have wished thee joy ever since first I saw thee. It heals my heart to see thee now in bliss.”

It was not only Théoden who was in bondage in the dark halls of Meduseld but all his people too. His shame was theirs. His sense of impending doom lay heavy upon them also and none more so than the one who most truly loved him for Éowyn loved him as a daughter. It was not just her own unhappiness and shame that she felt as Wormtongue’s grip grew stronger. It was her misery to have to watch a good, kind and brave man who had always loved her shrink into a lizard like creature under the sway of his enemies and to feel helpless as she watched it. But when she saw Théoden freed from bondage and able to fulfil his destiny as king this was denied to her. She was required to fulfil the ancient female role of waiting for men to return either in victory or defeat and she was denied the love of a man who might have given her glory and happiness. Tolkien has been accused of writing stories in which this traditional gender expectation is played out but this is not the story of Éowyn or Tolkien’s greatest female character, Lúthien of Doriath, who fights alongside Beren, her man, as a warrior who is at the very least his equal. Like Lúthien Éowyn refuses to accept the imprisonment that those who think they act in her best interests impose upon her. She follows her heart taking the way of a warrior into battle and following the man who she loves best of all standing by him at the very end defending him against the Lord of the Nazgûl on the Pelennor Fields as his body lays broken beneath his horse.

This is why Aragorn is able to call her back as she lies in the Houses of Healing. Her True Self has never given way to despair. When he anoints her with athelas “an air wholly fresh and clean and young, as if it had not before been breathed by any living thing… came new-made from snowy mountains high beneath a dome of stars, or from shores of silver far away washed by seas of foam”. Éowyn has remained entirely true to herself. Aragorn may have been a dream but it was for Théoden that she was ready to lay down her life. And then when she meets Faramir she realises that she is free to say yes to life and to happiness.

Éowyn is a woman of truth who has never compromised her True Self and although brought to the very edge of despair did not give way to this at the end. It is her love that has guider  her most truly and so she can look Aragorn in the eye. There is nothing for her to be ashamed of. She has given her love freely as her brother declared before the company and Aragorn too can bless her without shame. Both are true lovers indeed.