“Where Will Wants Not, a Way Opens, So We Say.” Dernhelm the Young Warrior Takes Merry into Battle.

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 785-787

One of the greatest challenges that faces any person is not to pass the pain that they have faced onto another. So it is for each one of us, for all of us must endure pain at some point in our lives, whether in body, soul or spirit, or all three together. And so it is for Éowyn, sister-daughter of Théoden. She has long borne the pain of being forced to gaze helplessly upon her uncle’s long decline into dotage at the hands of Grima Wormtongue, and then as hope is suddenly rekindled in her heart at the sudden healing of Théoden, and even more as she falls in love with the greatest man of the age, Aragorn, the Heir of Isildur, the possibility of freedom and glory opens up before her. Then just as suddenly all is dashed from her grasp.

Aragorn takes the hopeless road, the Paths of the Dead, that no-one has ever passed, and what is worse, he will not take her with him. She must “do her duty” to her lord and king and to her people, attending as lady of her people to all the hearths that will await the men on their return from battle or, if they do not return, awaiting her fate and bearing it as bravely as she can. All the women, children and those too old to fight, do so in the best manner they can. Tolkien turns to the rhythm of speech of his Old English ancestors in order to speak of them:

“They were a stern people, loyal to their lord, and little weeping or murmuring was heard”.

Each woman and child does what is expected of them, what they have long been trained to do.

But there are two people who do not wish to stay behind. Meriadoc Brandybuck, swordthain of Rohan, feels shame as he thinks about having to stay with the women, the children, and the elderly while the warriors go to war, while his closest friends are putting their lives in mortal danger. He has to accept the reasons that Théoden has given to him, that Stybba, the pony small enough for him to ride alongside the king in the gentle pace of a journey along mountain paths will never be able to keep pace with the steeds of the Rohirrim or be able to join the charge of knights before the gates of Minas Tirith. He understands this but it cannot erase the dishonour he feels.

And Éowyn feels the cage that she fears closing round her once more and the rejection by Aragorn that leaves her with the feeling that there is no future, no hope for her beyond the fate of the women who “have leave to be burned in the house” when the men do not return from the war. She sees nothing beyond death in a burning house and so she chooses death in battle, taking on the disguise of a young warrior and the name of Dernhelm.

But even in her despair her heart is able to go out to another. She recognises in the young hobbit a fellow sufferer, one who is condemned to dishonour as he like her is left behind. As he watches the riders preparing to break camp a young Rider comes alongside him, one that he thinks he recognises but whose name he does not know. And the Rider speaks softly to him.

“Where will wants not, a way opens, so we say,” the Rider says… “You wish to go wither the Lord of the Mark goes. I see it in your face.”

And so Éowyn takes Merry secretly with her into battle. She may have been wrapped in anger and despair but she is still able to recognise the same feeling in another and to reach out to him. This does not begin a friendship. They never speak on the ride into Gondor. But in their silence they are able to grant strength to one another. And perhaps for Éowyn this reaching out to another in their pain, even within her own, a keeping open of her broken heart and not closing it against the world and its suffering, perhaps this is the beginning of her long journey towards healing

“Take All These Things and Bear Them to Good Fortune!” Merry and The Importance of Being Dressed For Battle.

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 784-785

The last reference in The Lord of the Rings to the livery of a warrior is not particularly complimentary. Sam arrives at the home of the Cotton family who have provided shelter to his father after his forced eviction from Bag End. By this point in the story he has probably become so accustomed to wearing the gear of warfare that he hardly recognises that he is wearing it anymore. But his father does, and the magnificence of his son’s attire does not impress him. In fact, as far as the Gaffer is concerned, he has simply been presented with yet one more example of his son’s tendency to have ideas above his station, the kind of moral laxity that probably began with being taught “his letters” by Mr. Bilbo Baggins.

“What’s become of his weskit?” the Gaffer asks of Frodo. “I don’t hold with wearing ironmongery, whether it wears well or no.”

The Gaffer may not be impressed by what he sees but the hobbits of the Shire most certainly are. Rosie Cotton’s eyes are shining as she looks at her man and hears the words that Frodo speaks in praise of him, and the hobbits who have collaborated first with Lotho Sackville-Baggins and then with Sharkey are clearly intimidated, both by Sam and by Merry and Pippin. For each one of them are arrayed in the war gear of Gondor and of Rohan.

The livery that each of Frodo’s companions wear carries with it the status afforded to one who wears it. We remember the magnificent appearance of Hirgon, messenger of Gondor, as he bears the message from Denethor, his lord, to Théoden of Rohan. Immediately all know, as they look upon the magnificence of the Herald of Gondor, that what he bears is of the greatest importance, and Hirgon knows it too. The clothes he wears give him pride in his lord, in his people, in himself as their messenger, and in the message that he bears.

In a later chapter we will see Pippin arrayed in the livery of the Guard of the White Tower of Minas Tirith. He too must be dressed appropriately for the work that he must do in the service of the Steward of Gondor. And here in the passage that we are thinking about this week we learn how Théoden tells Merry that because he is unable to ride one of the great war-horses of Rohan, he will not be coming with the Rohirrim in the great ride to Minas Tirith. Then Éowyn takes him aside and tells him that Aragorn had asked her to do just one thing before he left to take the Paths of the Dead and that was that Merry “should be armed for battle”, and then she gave him, “a stout jerkin of leather, a belt and a knife”; the gear that a foot soldier would wear and not one of the knights of Rohan who wore mail shirts into battle. And she gave Merry a shield and a small helm, but not a sword, for Merry had carried a sword since the night of his captivity in the barrow close by the house of Tom Bombadil.

It is arrayed in this simple gear that Merry will accompany Éowyn in secret, in her disguise as Dernhelm, on the great ride, and it will be his sword of Westernesse that will strike the blow that will enable Éowyn to kill the Witch-King of Angmar. So each of the hobbits take the journey to valiant manhood and are recognised as men by their fellow hobbits, both friend and foe, when they lead the uprising that ends the occupation of the Shire by Saruman and his lackeys.

It may be that in watching them as they are arrayed for war that readers will recognise the delight that small boys take in dressing up for games of war. Some may even think that when grown men dress likewise in this or any other uniform for work that this is a sign of their immaturity; a failure to outgrow childish games. But in their seminal work on the male psyche, King, Warrior, Magician, Lover, Robert Moore and Douglas Gillette identify four fundamental male energies, each of which can be developed either into mature or immature forms. Unbeknown, especially to themselves, Merry and Pippin, and Sam also, are growing into mature warriors who will be able to free the Shire and the enslaved hobbits from slavery and then lead them into an age of prosperity. You will note that I have not mentioned Frodo here. He takes a different path, and we will speak of that many times in future posts.

“So We Come To It in The End… The Great Battle of Our Time, in Which Many Things Shall Pass Away.” A Great Cloud Comes From Mordor That Simplifies The Mind of Théoden.

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 783-784

When Merry is awakened at dawn after the coming of the Herald of Gondor he wonders why he has been called by the King in the middle of the night.

“Flinging on some clothes, Merry looked outside. The world was darkling. The very air seemed brown, and all things about were black and grey and shadowless; there was a great stillness. No shape of cloud could be seen, unless it were far away westward, where the furthest groping fingers of the great gloom still crawled onwards, and a little light leaked through them. Overhead there hung a heavy roof, sombre and featureless, and light seemed to failing than growing.”

The coming of the cloud from Mordor is one of the most terrible images of The Lord of the Rings, symbolising as Sauron intended it to do, his absolute intention to rule over all things. For while the cloud has a practical purpose in that it provides a cover for the orcs who will make up the main body of Sauron’s army, and who dislike, even hate the brightness of the sun, it also displays the Dark Lord’s totalising intent, his desire to “bring them all, and in the darkness bind them”. He wishes to rule over all things, even the weather of the world.

The date is the 10th of March, “The Dawnless Day”, the day upon which the host of Minas Morgul sets forth to war in Gondor led by the Lord of the Nazgûl, the Witch-King of Angmar. It is the first day of Pippin’s brief service of the Steward of Gondor, a day upon which he is arrayed in the livery of the White Tower. It is the day upon which Merry is told by Théoden that he will not be riding with the Rohirrim to Minas Tirith, but that he is to remain in Rohan; but it is the day upon which Eowyn arrays him for battle. It is one of the darkest days of the whole story.

But it is a day that brings a great simplicity to the mind and heart of Théoden. For when Hirgon had asked him to bring all his strength to Minas Tirith and to come as swiftly as he can he had replied with caution, knowing that his rear needed defence against attack and that his advance guard needed to proceed with care. These are all the usual and necessary precautions that any general must take in order to reduce as much, if possible, any unnecessary losses, and to take thought for the security of what lies behind him as well as what lies before. But one set of circumstances takes away all reason for caution and that is the circumstance in which all choice is taken away except for the choice to throw everything away in one last desperate action. We call it the moment in which we have nothing left to lose, and Théoden knows that this moment has come.

“So we have come to it in the end,” he said: “the great battle of our time, in which many things will pass away. But at least there is no longer any need for hiding. We will ride the straight way and the open road and with all our speed.”

Théoden has come to that moment that is the “condition of complete simplicity”, as T.S Eliot named it in his Four Quartets. It is the moment that is expressed in Christian thought by the cross, the moment when everything has to be given away, even life itself. As Eliot himself continued in his poem, it is a condition that “costs not less than everything.” Théoden knows that he has come to that moment, the moment in which darkness seems to have triumphed completely, and so he gives everything of himself and of his people.

But even at this moment of the most terrible simplicity there is something deeper at work that almost no-one is able to see in this darkness. For it is on this day on which Frodo comes with Gollum and Sam to the Crossroads and begins his own intentional journey into the dark. It is there that he sees the statue of the fallen king, defaced by the obscene graffiti of the orcs, and sees it crowned with a circlet of wildflowers, and it is at that moment that the sun dips beneath the darkness from Mordor and illuminates the scene that Frodo can see. And as he gazes upon this beauty he cries out, “They cannot conquer forever!”

Perhaps he is the only one to experience such a moment of illumination even as the sun disappears, but what he sees, if only for a moment, is what Eliot goes onto say after speaking of the terrible condition of “complete simplicity”.

And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well

“I Am Forgetting Them!” Merry Thinks of Frodo and Sam in The Midst of His Loneliness.

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 774-775

It has been three days since Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, and the Grey Company, departed from the Hornburg and early in the day Aragorn begins his great ride across Gondor towards the port of Pelargir in order to come to the aid of its defenders who have been attacked by the Corsairs of Umbar. Following him are “shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night”. The Dead have come to fulfil the oath that once they made and then broke to Isildur.

And on that same day, at evening, Théoden arrives with his company at Harrowdale, a deep valley amidst mighty mountains. He will rest there that night; the last rest that he will take before he leads the Rohirrim on their great ride to Minas Tirith and the battle that will take before its walls on the Pelennor Fields. The thoughts of all have turned to what lies ahead and a silence has fallen upon the host. Meriadoc Brandybuck of the Shire has ridden that day just a few paces behind the king, and he too has ridden in silence.

Not that the whole journey from the Hornburg has taken place in silence. Merry has enjoyed the hospitable company of the king, sharing tales with him of the doings of the Shire and listening to tales of the deeds of Rohan. But despite Théoden’s gentle courtesy Merry has always felt lonely, aware of the “insupportable weight of Middle-earth” surrounding him, longing for the comforts of home, and thinking of his friends.

“He wondered where in all this strange world Pippin had got to; and what would become of Aragorn, and Legolas and Gimli.” They have been his company since their merry meeting amidst the wreck of Isengard and they are the first to come to his mind and to his heart.

But suddenly the thought of others comes to him “like a cold touch on his heart”. Merry has remembered Frodo and Sam, and he realises that it has been some time since he has done so. His thoughts have first been filled with his own plight and then with those who have been with him along the way. He is ashamed that he has not given the attention of his heart to those with whom he first left the Shire. “And yet they are more important than all the rest of us. And I came to help them.”

I do not think we should blame Merry for not thinking about Frodo and Sam. So much has happened to him since they parted company two weeks earlier at Parth Galen, violently sundered by the attack of the orcs who slew Boromir and who took both he and Pippin prisoner. Two weeks must feel like two years to him given the intensity of his experience, and the immensity of all that lies before him requires all the attention that he can give even though he has little idea of what the next days will bring. But that feeling, that “cold touch on his heart”, does the work that it was intended to do. It returns the attention of his heart to Frodo and Sam at just the moment it needed to do so. For it was early in the morning of that same say that Frodo and Sam left the stronghold of Henneth Annûn in the company of Gollum in order to begin the next stage of his journey to Mordor, bearing the Ring and the hopes of the world.

Perhaps Merry has needed the silence of that day’s ride down into Harrowdale in order to clear enough space in his heart to think of more than just of himself. This is one of the values of silence. Like the experience of most of us when we find ourselves in silence, Merry’s mind has been filled with himself, with thoughts and feelings. Most of the time, and for most of us, we are unaware of what we think and feel. Those thoughts and those feelings simply happen to us. But sometimes enough space is created for another level of awareness to be experienced. We become aware of what we are thinking and aware of what we are feeling. And then sometimes, in those quiet times, we may feel something like Merry’s cold touch, something that draws our attention away from ourselves and away from our usual patterns of thought. It is good that we stop to give such moments our full attention, to lean into the unexpected touches of our hearts. They enlarge our hearts and connect us to people and places who need our attention. We do not know what effect it had, for good, for Frodo and Sam. It isn’t given to us to know such things. There would be too much temptation to manipulate things if we did. But for those of us who try to pray, such moments call us consciously to place someone into the hands of God.

“He Knows Not to What End He Rides; Yet if he Knew , He Still Would Go On.” Merry Begins His Ride to War.

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 760-762

The last few posts on this blog have been a kind of mini-series on Meriadoc Brandybuck, known to all as Merry. I didn’t intend to do this. I wanted to move on, as soon as possible, to think about Aragorn’s ride to war beginning with his challenge to Sauron through the Stone of Orthanc but each time I tried to do so I found myself being interrupted by the young hobbit. Merry did not want to be “left behind” and I found that I could not do that myself.

Poor Merry. At all times in this part of the story he is unsure about what part he might be able to play, if any part at all. He fears being left behind and yet when he rides with Théoden and the Rohirrim from Helm’s Deep to Dunharrow he finds that it is he who leaves behind Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and the Dúnedain of the North. For Aragorn emerges from the Hornburg and makes a startling announcement.

“We must ride our own road, and no longer in secret. For the time of stealth has passed. I will ride east by the swiftest way, and I will take the Paths of the Dead.”

We know that the sons of Elrond accompanied the Dúnedain on their journey south in search of Aragorn and that they brought with them word from their father:

If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead.

But only Aragorn heard these words and no other and he did not wish to discuss them further at that time, so when he does announce his intention to take that road it comes as a complete surprise to all who hear him. And poor Merry suddenly finds himself placed in Théoden’s hands as Aragorn makes his plans without him. A short while before Merry was grateful to have Théoden’s company but now he feels unhappy and abandoned by a companion with whom he has journeyed since Rivendell and has come to love.

Like Sam Gamgee, Merry often feels “torn in two”. He would dearly love to ride with Aragorn wherever he goes; he would have loved to have ridden with Pippin and Gandalf to Minas Tirith; and he has come to love Théoden as a father, but unlike Sam he does not have a lode-star that will enable him to overcome all doubt. Sam will walk with Frodo wherever he goes and this will always be his guiding principle. Merry was denied the option of going with Frodo when he and Pippin were taken by the orcs of Isengard and since that time he has been carried first by his enemies to Fangorn, then by Treebeard to Isengard, and lastly by the Rohirrim to Helm’s Deep. At no time has he any choice in where he goes and now he is being carried to Dunharrow.

Bilbo’s words on the night of the Long-expected Party come to mind.

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

We remember that Merry began with “eager feet” at Crickhollow. He was the main organiser of the conspiracy that had been planned to prevent Frodo from leaving the Shire alone. We remember how he was ready to leave the Shire with ponies packed and how with confidence he led the hobbits into the Old Forest in order to avoid the Black Riders. But then he became the prisoner of Old Man Willow, of the Barrow Wight, and at last of the orcs of Isengard, “like baggage to be called for when all is over” and that is how he feels now.

I say, that is how Merry feels, but this does not determine what he does. He is deeply unhappy and yet on he rides. He cannot see it for himself but Aragorn sees. He watches Théoden, Éomer and Merry ride away then turns to his companions and says:

“There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least… He knows not to what end; yet if he knew, he still would go on.”

Merry’s heart may be torn in two but on he goes. Bilbo’s words may have been written for him.

“And whither then? I cannot say.”

For Bilbo himself was carried on and on to the Lonely Mountain through many adventures, none of which were chosen by himself, and last of all he entered the deadly presence of Smaug himself. The question of whether he felt inclined to engage in any of the adventures of his journey was never asked of him after Gandalf invited him to join the Dwarf company. It was a complete irrelevance. So too it is for Merry. He does not know what he is doing. He has not known for a very long time. But still he goes on. He goes on to a glory that no-one, most especially himself, could ever have imagined.

“As a Father You Shall Be to Me.” Thoughts on Fathers and Sons as Merry Lays His Sword on Théoden’s Lap.

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 758-760

Tolkien never knew his own father. He died in South Africa in 1896 soon after his wife, Mabel, had returned to England with her children on a family visit and was buried there in Bloemfontein. Mabel settled with her children in the Warwickshire village of Hall Green, now a suburb of the city of Birmingham. It was there that she converted to Roman Catholicism and eventually connected her family to the Birmingham Oratory, a church of the Oratorian community founded by John Henry Newman in the mid 19th century. Mabel developed Type 1 Diabetes, a condition at that time little understood and died in 1904 when only 34 years old. Ronald (J.R.R) Tolkien was just 12 years old and bereft of both his parents. Before she died Mabel had made arrangements with the priests at the Birmingham Oratory that they would become guardians to her sons and so it was that Father Francis Xavier Morgan, a man who possessed both kindness and wealth in equal and substantial measure, took on the responsibility for the raising of the two boys.

Readers of The Lord of the Rings have noted an absence of fathers, in a biological sense, in the story. Frodo is an orphan who is raised by his kindly (and wealthy) relative, Bilbo Baggins. Aragorn is an orphan who is raised by Elrond of Rivendell, and to a large degree by Gandalf also. Éomer and Éowyn are raised by their uncle, Théoden, after the death of their father, Éomund. Against this, of course, we must think of the importance of the relationship of Denethor to his two sons, Boromir and Faramir, and the relationship between Sam Gamgee and his father, the Gaffer, and it is worth noting that those relationships have many problems. Indeed, the best models of good fathers that we find in The Lord of the Rings seem to be those father figures, Bilbo, Gandalf and Théoden, who become guardians but not possessors of children.

There is a formal definition of that word, guardian, and Father Morgan had that formal relationship to the young Ronald Tolkien, but perhaps at its best it is a word that denotes a willingness to guard a charge against a world that might damage or even destroy a vulnerable young person before they are ready to face that world as an adult.

In a recent post on this blog I spoke about that moment in our lives when we realise that the grown ups are not going to turn up and we are going to have to face whatever challenge is facing us alone. We watched Merry face this as Aragorn wrestled with his own choices and we felt his vulnerability. Now, as Théoden and his company arrive at Helm’s Deep on their journey back towards Dunharrow and Edoras, we see Legolas and Gimli deepen their growing friendship, and we do not even know where Aragorn has gone. Once again, Merry feels like an item of unnecessary baggage as everyone else makes preparation for war. And then…

“The king was already there, and as soon as they entered he called for Merry and had a seat set for him at his side. ‘It is not as I would have it,’ said Théoden; ‘for this is little like my fair house in Edoras. And your friend is gone, who should also be here. But it may be long ere we sit, you and I, at the high table in Meduseld; there will be no time for feasting when I return thither. But come now! Eat and drink, and let us speak together while we may.”

It is a moment of the deepest tenderness as war is prepared and Merry is deeply moved. He offers his sword in service to the king just as Pippin did to Denethor and the king receives it graciously. Pippin offered his service to Denethor out of a sense of obligation, an attempt to pay the debt he felt he owed for the sacrifice of Boromir. Merry offers his service out of love for Théoden.

“As a father you shall be to me,” he says.

As I have written this piece a memory has come back to me and a name come to mind that I would like to honour in this blog. In 1980 I was a young teacher at a boys’ school in Zambia, Central Africa. I made a number of mistakes, not malicious ones, but the mistakes of inexperience and foolishness, and my students lost confidence in me and demanded my dismissal. Word of this even reached the office of the President of Zambia. Zambia was like a big village in those days and officials in that office told the school to get rid of me. Later I was to learn that the acting principal was going to carry out that instruction but was prevented from doing so by his deputy, Mr Tennyson Sikakwa. One evening as I sat miserably in my house at the school, Tennyson came to sit with me. “You will learn much more from how you deal with your failures than from your successes,” he said. It was a turning point in my life and I owe the profoundest debt of gratitude to him for standing with me at my lowest point. As a father he was to me and I wish to honour him here.

“My Business is With Isengard Tonight, With Rock and Stone.” How The Ents Destroyed Saruman”s Fortress

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 734-744

The smoking of pipes at the ruined gates of Isengard had created a quiet mood in which nothing is said but Legolas is anxious to know more about the story of the hobbits after their capture by orcs nine days before. Merry and Pippin spoke of their experience with the Uruk-hai and how they were able to escape amidst the confusion of battle when Éomer’s company attacked. As Gimli said about how Pippin was able to cut his bonds with an orc knife at an earlier point in the story the hobbits were lucky but they were able to seize their luck “with both hands”.

Merry and Pippin went on to speak of their meeting with Treebeard and of Entmoot when the Ents discussed what action they should take against Saruman. Then they spoke of how, at the end of their debate, the Ents “suddenly blew up”, of how they marched upon Isengard, and of how they were followed by huorns who came out of the forest behind them.

They spoke of how, as they reached Nan Curunir, the vale of the wizard, they were met by a tremendous sound of trumpets blaring and thought that they had been discovered by their enemies. But then they had realised that the noise was of the emptying of Isengard as Saruman sent his army to war against Rohan and how for an hour they watched them marching southward towards Helm’s Deep.

Treebeard watched them go and then said to Merry and Pippin, “My business is with Isengard tonight, with rock and stone”.

Tolkien describes how the Ents launched their assault upon the fortress, wonderfully showing how the slow, deliberate action of tree roots over a hundred years, an action about which all householders must be aware, was concentrated into a single night’s furious work.

“They pushed, pulled, tore, shook and hammered; and clang-bang, crash-crack, in five minutes they had these huge gates just lying in ruin; and some were already beginning to eat into the walls, like rabbits in a sand-pit.”

Merry and Pippin go on to describe how the destruction continues, how Saruman tried to respond by means of fire from within his impregnable fastness of Orthanc at the heart of Isengard; and how the Ents diverted the waters of the Isen from its natural course and flooded the fortress, turning Orthanc into an island in the centre of a lake, an island in which Saruman was now a prisoner.

I have already spoken of how, in this powerful piece of description, Tolkien shows how the action of a forest upon a house over many years is concentrated within a single night. We know that if any building is neglected for a period of time nature soon reclaims it, drawing it back into itself as what once seemed to be permanent is shown to be merely temporary. Tolkien did not know of James Lovelock’s Gaia hypothesis, in which Lovelock suggested that the earth is a complex self-regulating system within which that which is organic and non-organic interacts in order to maintain the system as a whole but I suspect that he may have been inclined to like it if he did. Many scientists have criticised the hypothesis on the basis that it is teleological, in other words that it is descriptive of a set of conditions that will lead to a particular end, in this case about the survival of planet earth as a place for organic life, but Tolkien was a Christian, and Christians believe that everything is moving towards a conclusion, of a new heaven and a new earth.

In his Music of the Ainur Tolkien places the whole history of the earth within the framework of a single piece of music in which all creatures, both earthly and heavenly are active participants. Only Eru Ilúvatar, only God, knows how the music will end but it will be a beautiful resolution of all that has preceded that end. As the 14th century English mystic, Julian of Norwich put it, “All shall be well”. There may be a time in which figures like Saruman may triumph but as the Ents show, through their business with the rock and stone of Isengard, they cannot triumph forever.

“Fangorn is My Name.” Merry and Pippin Meet Treebeard on a Hill in The Forest.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991,2007) pp. 600-607

Merry and Pippin make their escape from the Orcs up the Entwash into the Forest of Fangorn and at first they are driven by fear of their captors. But at last they pause, struggling for breath in the stifling stillness of the forest and try to assess their position. Which way should they go and what provision do they have for their journey?

A careful examination of their position would not give the hobbits much hope. They have only lembas to eat and enough for only five days and where will they go? But we have already seen that they are content to live in the moment and soon their curiosity about their immediate surroundings begins to grow and, for a while at least, concern for their prospects fades away.

It is the age of the forest that fascinates them and the feeling of age. Pippin likens the forest to the “old room in the Great Place of the Tooks”, where the Old Took, Gerontius, who Bilbo knew, lived year after year while the room grew old about him. “But that is nothing to the old feeling of this wood.”

The moment in which the young hobbits meet Treebeard for the very first time is handled very differently in Peter Jackson’s film than it is in Tolkien’s original telling of the story. The obvious difference is that Tolkien gives us no pursuing orcs. They are lying slain on the grass of Rohan by this point and Grishnákh was killed while trying to take the hobbits to Mordor. But the other difference is that there seems to be a complete absence of fear on the part of Merry and Pippin as they are lifted from the ground by “a large Man-like, almost Troll-like, figure, at least fourteen feet high, very sturdy, with a tall head, and hardly any neck.” I will come back to this strange absence of fear next week in my reflection. As always I do not consider it to be an oversight on Tolkien’s part, one that Peter Jackson corrects.

What we are given is wonder. The first thing that Merry and Pippin become aware of is Treebeard’s eyes and it is Pippin, the one who is normally unreflective, who tries to describe those eyes.

“One felt as if there was an enormous well behind them, filled up with ages of memory and long slow steady thinking; but their surface was sparkling with the present; like sun shimmering on the outer leaves of a vast tree, or on the ripples of a very deep lake. I don’t know, but it felt as if something that grew in the ground- asleep, you might say, or just feeling itself as something between root-tip and leaf-tip, between deep earth and sky had suddenly waked up, and was considering you with the same slow care that it had given to its own inside affairs for endless years.”

What Pippin seems to be describing is nature itself in all its heartbreaking beauty. I say heartbreaking because even as we read these words we are so aware of the fragility of the world that Treebeard expresses and represents. And in this Tolkien reveals himself as a modern writer who is aware that nature is standing at bay as a debased culture, orc like in its character, knows only one relationship to the natural world and that is dominance, abuse and rape.

One of my pleasures in writing these reflections is seeking for appropriate artwork to aid them. Although I enjoyed the films that Peter Jackson made and, in particular, loved the landscapes within which he set the story I have found much more help for my own work from the imaginations of artists. This week I have used an image by the excellent Anke Eissmann once again who finds such character in the faces of Merry and Pippin and I have found a wonderful depiction of Treebeard’s face by Alan Lee. If Eissmann always gives us character in her work Lee gives us mystery. There is a transcendent quality to all his work. Each image is a kind of portal to a reality beyond the surface that can be touched or simply regarded. This is certainly true of his depiction of Treebeard and as I looked at it I began to see a likeness to his depiction of the figure of Merlin in Bragdon Wood from C.S Lewis’s That Hideous Strength. Again, in future weeks, I want to come back to this likeness. I do not know if it was intentional on Lee’s part but that sense that something is awakening, emerging from the earth in both Treebeard and Merlin, is one that excites, even intoxicates me. I hope that you will enjoy this exploration with me and that, perhaps, you will share your insights and responses in the comments section below.

“You Seem to Have Been Doing Well, Master Took.” Merry and Pippin Escape From The Orcs Into Fangorn Forest.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991,2007) pp. 591-599

The Orcs have taken Merry and Pippin close to the eaves of Fangorn Forest on their way towards Isengard but there they are halted by Éomer’s company who swiftly surround them with a ring of watch fires in the night. Neither side make any move until a small group of the Riders come in close, slip off their horses and kill several orcs before disappearing into the night. Uglúk and the orcs who had been guarding the hobbits dash off to stop a general stampede and the hobbits are left with Grishnákh, a terrible orc from Mordor.

It soon becomes clear that Grishnákh has been sent from Mordor with orders to bring hobbits back to Barad-dur and it even seems that he knows something about the Ring. Pippin becomes aware of this first and begins to make noises that imitate Gollum. We can only assume that he knows about Gollum’s mannerisms from stories that Bilbo would have told as he has never met him but the noises have their effect. Grishnákh is almost overcome with desire and picks up the hobbits, one under each arm, and tries to escape between the fires.

He does not succeed. He is killed by the Riders who miss the hobbits in the dark and so Merry and Pippin are able to make their escape.

Later there is a charming scene in which Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli succeed in tracking the route that Merry and Pippin take from the orc encampment into the Forest of Fangorn. Legolas tries to make sense of the hobbits’ escape.

“A bound prisoner escapes both from the Orcs and from the surrounding horsemen. He then stops while still in the open, and cuts his bonds with an orc-knife. But how and why? For if his legs were tied, how did he walk? And if his arms were tied, how did he use the knife? And if neither were tied, why did he cut the cords at all? Being pleased with his skill, he then sat down and quietly ate some waybread! That is enough to show that he was a hobbit, without the mallorn-leaf. After that, I suppose, he turned his arms into wings and flew away singing into the trees. It should be easy to find him: we only need wings ourselves.”

The answer to the question about the knife is that earlier in the forced march across the plains of Rohan there had been a bloody argument amongst the hobbits’ captors about what to do with their prisoners. In the brief moment of chaos that followed the fight before Uglúk was able to restore control Pippin was able to cut the cords that bound him using the knife of one of the orcs that had been killed. He quickly retied them loosely before his captors were able to find out what he had done and so it was that after Grishnákh was killed he was able to use his freed hands to use Grishnákh’s sword to cut the other bonds and so he and Merry were able to make their escape. Merry is impressed by his friend’s inventiveness, hence his remark that Pippin has done “rather well”.

But before they complete their escape Pippin takes a mallorn leaf filled with wafers of lembas, removes some of them from the leaf and shares them with Merry. And soon the taste of lembas brings back to the hobbits “the memory of fair faces, and laughter, and wholesome food in quiet days now far away.”

Tolkien drew upon his belief in the efficacy of the eucharist in his creation of lembas. He outlined that belief in a letter he wrote to his son, Christopher.

“Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament… There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves on earth.”

Tolkien went on to tell his son that the more frequently he received the sacrament the more he would be nourished by it and when Frodo and Sam find that they have nothing else to eat in their journey through Mordor than lembas Tolkien remarks that they were more sustained by it than if they had mixed it with other forms of food. Merry and Pippin find new strength and cheerfulness after the trauma of their cruel treatment at the hands of their captors and so continue their journey into Fangorn.

“Where Do We Get Bed and Breakfast?” On Merry and Pippin and Coping With Difficulties.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991,2007) pp.583-591

I was going to give this piece the title of “On Hobbits and Coping With Difficulties” but then I asked myself the question, “how would Ted Sandyman deal with this?”, or Lotho Sackville Baggins or the Shirrifs who arrest Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin on their return to the Shire after all their adventures? The point is that hobbits have as much variety in character as any other people.

So let us return to the way in which Merry and Pippin try to cope with the horror of being taken prisoner by orcs. In last week’s piece we found Pippin briefly giving into self-pity and we saw that this is a trope that runs through the story up until the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. But then we saw how Pippin rapidly turned from this to the practical problem of getting free. Pippin, in particular, is not given to very much introspection but both he and Merry share a particular quality together and that is to try to make light of difficulty by the use of humour.

Later in the story Merry will speak of this to Aragorn in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith.

“It is the way of my people to use light words at such times and say less than they mean. We fear to say too much. It robs us of the right words when a jest is out of place.”

You only have to open your mouth in England and say a few words and the person with whom you are speaking will begin the process of placing you in a particular social background and will start to treat you accordingly. But class is not something that is set in stone in English culture. It is possible to move from a lower to higher class. Education plays an important role in this process and Tolkien’s education at King Edward’s school in Birmingham and at Oxford University meant that when war came in 1914 he was made an officer and not placed among the ranks.

And it is in the rhythms of speech and the language used by Tolkien’s fellow officers that we will find Merry and Pippin. The use of “light words” is not only a characteristic of the officer class in England it is regarded as essential behaviour. And so Merry speaks of the horror of being taken captive by orcs as “a little expedition” a country walking holiday at the end of which “bed and breakfast” will be found in a pleasant country cottage. By speaking in this manner Merry signals to Pippin that he is alright and Pippin is reassured. And so we see the interplay in The Lord of the Rings between the England of the early 20th century in which Tolkien grew up and the heroic age whose literature Tolkien loved. Again it is an interplay about which Merry and Pippin comment in Minas Tirith when Pippin speaks of having to live “on the heights” as he is brought out of the Shire, the England of the early 20th century, into the heroic world that is represented by Aragorn and Faramir, for example.

We might briefly comment upon the Orcs before concluding these thoughts. Readers of The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S Lewis might remember how Lewis comments on how, in The Magician’s Nephew, Frank, the London cab driver (my grandfather’s profession by the way), begins to revert to the country style of speech that he would have used before moving to London in search of work. This style of speech is the same that Sam Gamgee uses and Lewis is commenting on this reversion favourably. The opposite direction of travel is towards an urban style of speech that is used by Bill Sykes in Charles Dickens’s Oliver Twist, for example, and expresses his brutal nature. This is the language of the Orcs. Both Tolkien and Lewis hated the effect, as they saw it, that urban living had upon people and it is no mistake that the orcs often live in the industrial landscapes of Isengard and Mordor. Could Orcs make the same journey that Frank does in The Magician’s Nephew? I will leave that question to my readers.