Pippin

“Pack Yourself Up, Master Bag!” Why Did Merry Want to Go to War With the Riders of Rohan? What Use Can He Be?

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 812-813

Poor Merry! When Théoden told him that he could not go into battle with the Riders of Rohan he was so angry.

“We ride on horses tall and swift,” Théoden had told him, “and great though your heart be, you cannot ride on such beasts.”

“I will not be left behind!” Merry had declared angrily to himself, and he was not left behind because a mysterious young warrior, Dernhelm by name, had offered to take Merry with him.

It seemed so good at the time but in the days that followed as the Rohirrim had drawn closer to Minas Tirith Merry had begun to ponder the wisdom of his earlier passion. He was in Elfhelm’s company and although the men of that company knew that he was there none of them gave away his secret. But none of them spoke to him either. Not even Dernhelm on whose horse Merry rode. “He might have been just another bag that Dernhelm was carrying.”

Just another bag. Just a piece of luggage to be carried about, to be used or discarded as necessary. Not a person but a thing. Not a Thou but an It. And so he felt “small, unwanted and lonely”. And he was also afraid because reports had come that the road ahead was held against them and that if they were to reach the battle before Minas Tirith at all they would almost certainly have to fight a battle first. So the bag was going to be carried into terrible danger and would almost certainly be lost.

Readers of The Lord of the Rings will remember the first time we met Merry, the organiser of the Crickhollow conspiracy, the cottage in Buckland in the most eastern part of the Shire close to the fence of the Old Forest where Frodo was to live after selling Bag End to the Sackville-Bagginses. They will remember that when Frodo, Pippin and Sam arrived at Crickhollow that it was Merry who had food and hot baths ready for them, and not only that but when the real reason for Frodo’s departure from Hobbiton was revealed it was Merry who had ponies packed and ready for an immediate departure from the Shire, and it was Merry who confidently led his friends into the forest in order to throw the Black Riders off the trail.

So the Merry that we first meet is confident, competent and decisive. After all, he is the oldest son of the Master of Buckland, one of the aristocracy of the Shire if we can say that there is such a thing. But all Merry’s self-confidence begins to unravel from the moment that he leaves the Shire, stumbling along the paths of the Old Forest into the malign clutches of Old Man Willow where he and his companions only survive thanks to the timely arrival of Tom Bombadil.

And there will be many more timely rescues along the way to the road through Anórien before Minas Tirith; and Merry will be carried by the boats of Lothlórien down the Anduin, by the orcs of Isengard across the plains of Rohan, by Treebeard through Fangorn Forest and now by the horse of an unknown warrior on the road to a battle where he will be of little use except to hinder the Rider who had brought him there. If only he could be “a tall Rider like Éomer and could blow a horn or something and go galloping”.

I love that last sentence because it reveals something about the uselessness of so much human activity. I love that “or something…”. As Merry tries to imagine what that something might possibly be, all he can think is that any action, must surely be of greater significance than what he is doing now.

A few weeks ago we thought about Pippin’s hard journey from boyhood to manhood and saw that it came through hardship, danger, failure and humiliation. We could say much the same about Merry. He might not share in Pippin’s impetuousness, but what he carries is an abiding sense of uselessness. He does not feel of any use to anyone. Maybe that is why he put so much effort into being the competent organiser at the start of the story. Maybe he worked so hard at that because he fears that he is of no use to anyone. People often speak today of imposter syndrome, that fear that we might be found out, revealed to be unqualified for the job that needs to be done. Just like Pippin, Merry will be revealed to be “a valiant man”, but he will only get there through facing up to his inadequacy and not by pretending to be a success.

“Do You Not Know Death When You See It?” In Which We Learn That Gandalf Does Not Dear Death But That The Morgul Lord Does Fear It.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 809-811

Pippin runs bravely down to the gate of Minas Tirith, down into the heart of the battle, in search of Gandalf and looking for aid in his attempt to save the life of Faramir from his father’s madness; but when he reaches the gate he shrinks in terror, cowering into a shadow. For what he sees is the Morgul Lord, the Witch-King of Angmar, the Lord of the Nazgûl, revealed in all his power, riding through the broken gate of the city.

“In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl. A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face.”

Pippin is terrified. And rightly so, for he stands in mortal danger. Even the bravest of the soldiers of Gondor flee before the face of this terrible being. But one stands in defiance of him. Gandalf, seated upon Shadowfax, does not flee.

Those who know The Lord of the Rings through Peter Jackson’s films know that this scene does not appear in Jackson’s telling of the story. When the gates are broken by the mighty blows of Grond the battle continues as orcs flood through the shattered defences. In the Director’s Cut there is a scene, almost a peripheral one, in which the Morgul Lord shatters Gandalf’s staff, a scene in which Gandalf appears almost as a broken old man before the horns of Rohan sound and the Witch-King is distracted from what is presented as an inevitable victory over his foe.

But this is not how Tolkien presents the scene and I would like to offer my thoughts here as to why this is.

As we have already seen, there is no sense in which Tolkien seeks to diminish the power of the Lord of the Nazgûl at this moment. He intends us to see him as Pippin does, clothed in a power that he did not display in the camp below Weathertop when he struck the blow that wounded Frodo, or at the Fords of Bruinen when he was almost able to capture Frodo and the Ring, but was defeated by Glorfindel before whom he had once fled in one of the great battles of the Third Age at the end of his kingdom of Angmar, and by the magic of Elrond in the rising of the waters there. There we saw that his power was limited, but here, surely, we see that nothing can stand before him. Not even Gandalf.

The Morgul Lord is sure of this, even when Gandalf tells him that he cannot enter the city and commands him to “Go back!” And so he responds.

“Old fool!” he said. “Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!” And with that he lifted up his sword and the flames ran down the blade.

This is the moment of power that Peter Jackson showed in the Director’s Cut. Gandalf as the old fool, powerless before death in all its terror, his staff shattered as the Witch-king raises his sword. But there is something that the Morgul Lord does not know, cannot know, and that is that Gandalf does know death. He passed through death at the end of his battle with Durin’s Bane, with the Balrog of Moria. There at the end of that terrible struggle on the mountain top Gandalf said that “darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time, and I wandered far on roads that I will not tell.”

Gandalf knows death. As Gandalf the Grey he died in battle against a mighty foe. But he was “sent back- for a brief time until my task is done.” And Eru Ilúvatar sends him back with a task to be completed. Gandalf does not fear death because he has already passed through it and he knows the mission that he must and will complete.

But the Witch-King does not know death. But we know that he fears it even as he serves it, believing death to have the ultimate power. This is why in his speech he gives Death a capital letter. We know this because it was because of this fear that he first accepted the Ring of Power from the hand of Sauron, believing that through his Ring he might escape Death for ever. He has devoted his entire existence to the service of Death and so he has become a wraith. When Gandalf commands him to fall “into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master”, Gandalf speaks words of doom, for soon he will fall in the battle at the hands of a woman and a hobbit.

“A Very Valiant Man”. Thoughts Upon The Journey to Manhood of Peregrin Took.

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The Return of The King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 807-809

It suddenly struck me after I had written and posted my last piece on this blog that the Peregrin Took, the Pippin, that I have been writing about recently was no longer a boy, but a man, and so I decided for my title to go back to the words that Gandalf used about him when he introduced him to the soldiers at the outer walls of the Pelennor Fields. “His name is Peregrin, a very valiant man”.

What I could also have done in looking for a title for this piece would have been to turn to two moments in the events around the inner collapse of the spirit of Denethor, and his orders to prepare a pyre for his own ritual suicide and the murder of Faramir.

We remember that when Denethor dismisses Pippin from his service and asks him to send for the servants who will light the pyre, we read that Pippin “stood up and looked the old man in the eye”. And soon after we read of Pippin’s encounter with Beregond, a soldier of the Guard of the Tower in Minas Tirith, and how Pippin speaks to this warrior with the words, “You must choose”.

These are two moments that show how Pippin has come into his manhood. It is not as a defiant teenager that Pippin speaks to the Steward of Gondor, but as one man to another. At no point does Pippin cease to respect his lord, at no point does he fail to grant that respect to him, but he chooses to speak truth. And when he meets Beregond and bids him do what he can to prevent Denethor from what he seeks to do, he does so with the words, “You must choose”. Again, this is not a boy speaking to a man, but a man to a man.

And here I am reminded of Rudyard Kipling, a poet of the early 20th century, often dismissed merely as a mouthpiece of British imperialism. Many remember his words, “Oh East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet”, assuming that what Kipling is talking about is an inevitable clash of civilisations, but they fail to go on to read what the poet wrote next.

“But there is neither East not West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth, when two strong men stand face to face, though they come from the ends of the earth.”

And so a hobbit stands “face to face” before the Steward of Gondor and a soldier of the Guard, and there is no hobbit and man. Gandalf is right. This is “Peregrin Took, a very valiant man”.

We have come a long way in a very short space of time from the young hobbit in Moria who dropped a stone into a well out of a curious desire to know how deep it was. We have come a long way from the young hobbit who had to stand with bowed head as Gandalf growled: “Fool of a Took! This is a serious journey, not a hobbit walking-party. Throw yourself in next time, and then you will be no further nuisance.”

And then we remember that in the few days since that unhappy event Pippin had been forced to witness the fall of Gandalf into the abyss with the Balrog that perhaps he had awoken. And he had been forced to witness the death of Boromir at the hands of orcs who had been sent to take halflings prisoner and take them to Isengard, there to be tormented at the hands of Saruman. And he had been forced to endure captivity in the hands of those same orcs and to escape from them during a battle into the Forest of Fangorn. And he had been forced to look into the face of the Dark Lord himself after looking into the Stone of Orthanc, and to endure the humiliation of being discovered as the culprit who had stolen that Stone.

Pippin has been through humiliation and has emerged on the other side, not with resentment but with humility and strength. He has been through a refining fire and has emerged a man who is able to look at another man face to face and not be ashamed or afraid.

“You Must Choose Between Orders and The Life of Faramir.” Pippin Acts Against Orders and For What is Right and Good.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 807-809

After he dismisses Pippin from his service, Denethor gives orders for his funeral and for the funeral of Faramir. We are given a sombre and dignified description of a procession to Rath Dinen, the street of the dead, the resting place of the Stewards of Gondor.

But no-one has died.

The procession does not take place after death but before it. What Denethor has done is to order a ritual suicide. This is what he means by using the word, heathen. Tolkien would have known the description of a ship burial of a Viking lord in which the observer described the ritual murder of slaves who were then placed around the chieftain on the ship before it was set alight. The intention was that he should not make his journey into the afterlife alone and unattended.

But it is not slaves or servants that are to be ritually murdered in Rath Dinen but Denethor’s own son. And so Pippin runs from his lord in search of aid and thus finds Beregond. Pippin and Beregond have become friends in a very short time, the kind of friendship that can be forged in time of war. We saw this with Faramir and Frodo, perhaps most profoundly with Frodo and Sam; and now we see it with Pippin and Beregond. And perhaps what has bound them most closely together is their shared love for Faramir and it is this bond that now leads both of them to act in a way that is unthinkable for almost everyone else in Gondor. They choose deliberately to disobey an order that has been given by their lord.

“But the Lord of the City, Beregond, has fallen before his city is taken. He is fey and dangerous.”

And Pippin speaks of the orders that Denethor has given for his own suicide and the murder of his son, and bids Beregond to do what he can to prevent this crime from taking place. And when Beregond still speaks of orders that he must obey, Pippin declares:

“Well, you must choose between orders and the life of Faramir,” said Pippin. “And as for orders, I think you have a madman to deal with, not a lord.”

Those who have served in the military know how serious a matter it is to deliberately disobey an order, especially an order that has come from the very top, but in the world that Tolkien brings us into there is an added dimension of seriousness. For in the northern world to disobey your lord was to declare yourself to be a non-person.

In the classic Old English poem, The Wanderer, we are told of the sorrows of a man who has no lord, and so is doomed to wander from land to land in search of one who might “show me recognition in his mead-hall.” What Pippin calls upon Beregond to do is to become an exile, to become homeless by choice. And indeed, when later in the story Beregond has to stand before Aragorn and answer for what he has done, he is indeed sent into exile, never to return to Minas Tirith. The judgement of the king will indeed be tempered by a remarkable act of mercy but at no point does Aragorn seek to minimise the gravity of Beregond’s deed, nor does Beregond expect him to do so. The law has been broken and blood has been shed.

All of this takes place in a moment, as Pippin runs down to the heart of the battle in search of Gandalf, and Beregond runs up to the Street of the Dead in order to defend Faramir, if he can. Beregond’s choice is not made as a conclusion to an ethics seminar; and if it had, how much weight could we give to such a choice? Beregond’s decision to put his own body between Denethor’s servants and the lord that he loves and for whom he would happily die is a decision that can only be made when it is literally a decision made between life and death. And before such a choice those of us who read what Beregond does in the pages of Tolkien’s great story cannot sit in judgement either upon him or the men that he will kill. We must sit in silence, recognising as we do so the awfulness of what is about to take place.

And as we do so we recognise that awe is what we are called to. Awe in the face of the horror and beauty of life, and the moment at which life comes to its end, either in peace or in terror.

“But He is No Fool; And I Will Not Think of Dying Until He Despairs of Life.” Further Thoughts on Despair and Hope From Peregrin Took.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 806-807

In my title I speak of Pippin’s thoughts, but these are not really deep reflections offered in a leisurely symposium. Pippin is not really inclined to such a thing, and anyway, he doesn’t have the time. Denethor is about to kill both himself and Faramir and the city is under attack from the Enemy.

So, what we see here is the true Pippin. Pippin presented to us as an image created by just a few simple brushstrokes, by the bare essentials of his Pippin-ness. Pippin when he doesn’t have the time to try to be something.

We have noted that it is the task of a true captain to show us whether we are being faithful or not. And the true captain has discerned what we need to be faithful to, whether it is to what is good, or beautiful, or true, or whether it is merely to our self-interest, that is, what am I going to get out of this?

In 1943, the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, wrote a deep reflection on this question that he sent to two friends and co-workers in the resistance to the Nazi regime just before he was arrested and then imprisoned in a military prison in Berlin. Later on, after his death at the hands of the Gestapo in 1945, these thoughts were published as After Ten Years (Nach Zehn Jahre). It is a short essay full of profound wisdom, and perhaps its heart is expressed in a simple question that he posed.

“The ultimate question for one who lives responsibly to ask is not how are we to extricate ourselves heroically from the affair, but how the coming generation is to live.”

Now, as I said, Pippin is not a philosopher. We would not go to him to ask ourselves what the really important questions are that we should ask. But Pippin wants to know that his captains have thought about the important questions and that the answers they have found are good ones. And what I mean by good answers is not that they are clever answers but that the world that such answers is able to describe is good, that it is a world in which my children and all the children of the world will be able to live life in all its fulness.

And so, while Pippin offered his service to Denethor because he wanted to offer some act of grateful thanks to Boromir, his heart is given in service to Gandalf, to Aragorn and to Faramir, because he trusts them, because they call him to the best version of himself, to a faithful Peregrin Took.

This is what he tries to say to Denethor when the Lord of the City tells him to “die in what way seems best to you”.

“I will not say farewell, my lord,” said Pippin kneeling. And then suddenly hobbit-like once more, he stood up and looked the old man in the eyes. “I will take your leave, sir,” he said; “for I want to see Gandalf very much indeed. But he is no fool; and I will not think of dying until he despairs of life.”

For Pippin has already seen Gandalf in a moment of extreme peril. He has seen Gandalf on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm standing before Durin’s Bane and denying him passage. He has seen the wizard fall into the abyss of Moria beneath the bridge and heard him cry, Fly you fools! He knows that at the moment of extreme peril Gandalf was not thinking of himself but of the mission that he was prepared to give his life to. Gandalf did not despair as he fell from the bridge and so Pippin is sure that he will not despair now. Soon we will see Gandalf as he seeks to deny the Morgul Lord, the Chief of the Nazgûl, entry into the city, and we will know that at this critical moment it will be the Gandalf who pities even the slaves of Sauron and desires their welfare who will be standing there immoveable. This is the captain that Pippin wants to see now, the leader who calls him to his very best, one who can give him something worth dying and living for, one in whose service even the last moment would be to live life in all its fulness.

“Though the Darkness Had Reached Its Full and Grew No Deeper, It Weighed Heavier on Men’s Hearts, And a Great Dread Was On Them.” Tolkien Describes The Darkest Moments of The Siege of Minas Tirith.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 799-803

There are many dark moments in The Lord of the Rings, and I do not wish to take part in one of those polls that seem to be popular in social media. You know the kind that I mean; what are the ten darkest moments in this story? Is it Sam Gamgee kneeling beside the body of Frodo after his friend has received what seems to be a deadly sting from Shelob, or is it this moment when it seems that Minas Tirith will fall to the assault of the Morgul Host under their deadly captain, the Witch-King of Angmar? I do not wish to compare them. At the very least it would be a terrible slight upon the anguish that Sam feels as he looks upon Frodo and feels that the whole world has come to an end. But although Gandalf has been right to call Denethor to think of more than Gondor, Denethor has also been right to say that if Gondor falls the fall of the rest of Middle-earth will inevitably follow.

There is a word that serious readers of Tolkien’s work eventually come to know and that is the word, eucatastrophe. In his famous essay On Fairy Stories, Tolkien defined this word as “the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears (which I argue is the highest function of fairy-stories to produce)”. And so he thinks of the moment when the prince awakens the Sleeping Beauty from her hundred years sleep, or, in the Christian story, the moment of the incarnation, the birth of Christ in Bethlehem, the moment that is heralded in Isaiah 9.2 by the words, “The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” The essential contrast here is between darkness, the shadow of death and the great light that suddenly and entirely unexpectedly breaks in upon them in their utter hopelessness.

We will, of course, come back to the eucatastrophic moments in the telling of the story of the breaking of the siege of Minas Tirith later in this series of reflections, and we will see that not one of these moments is able to lift Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, from his deep despair. But what I wish to reflect upon here is that the essential feature of a true eucatastrophe is that it is entirely unlooked for. If we were to expect the “sudden happy turn” in our stories, then what such an expectation would create in us would be complacency. Unlike Pippin, who stands “alone and sleepless” on the walls of Minas Tirith looking eastward through the night we would sleep comfortably in our beds even through the greatest disaster. Don’t worry, we would say to one another, something will turn up, it always does.

And not all the sudden happy turns that have happened either in our own experience or in the telling of stories that we love the most are able to assure us that this time, in this present darkness, there will be an inbreaking of light. Like Pippin we wait, robbed of sleep, and asking, as we thought of a few weeks ago, “Is there any hope?”

And therein we see the action that we can take. There is the anxious waiting that Pippin shows us. There is the courageous if hopeless action of Faramir going out to the fords of Osgiliath even though he knows that he will not be able to hold them. Or there is the steady and indomitable spirit of Gandalf who remains in the darkest places so that those who are lost in them will not be utterly abandoned.

None of these actions can bring about the eucatastrophic events that will deliver Minas Tirith from the siege of the Morgul host, but without them, without the faithful perseverance that each of these actions represents, there can be no “joy that brings tears”, the tears that will later fall at the Field of Cormallen when Sam will cry out, “Is everything sad going to come untrue?”

“Is There Any Hope? For Frodo, I Mean; Or at Least Mostly for Frodo.” Pippin Wonders if There is Any Hope Remaining.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 796-797

After the counsel in the chamber of the Lord of the City all go to their rest and Gandalf and Pippin to the chamber that they share together. And there in the privacy of that room Pippin speaks at last, asking the question that is closest to his heart.

“Tell me,” he said, “is there any hope? For Frodo, I mean; or at least mostly for Frodo.”

Of course, when Pippin says “mostly for Frodo”, what he implies is an unspoken question.

Is there any hope for me? For any of us? And we do not blame him for this. We would all ask the same question. Pippin’s love for Frodo is not diminished in any way by his asking it.

And in his reply Gandalf acknowledges what we have been thinking about in the last few posts. He acknowledges that Denethor is right. He acknowledges that any hope that there has ever been that Frodo will succeed in his mission was foolish. But we will not go back to the alternative that Denethor says could and should have been done, that the Ring should have been brought to Minas Tirith by Faramir and that it should have been hidden there until “the uttermost end of need”. We have considered this and recognised that this too would have been foolish, even wicked, that if the Ring had come to Denethor it would have overthrown his considerable mind and almost certainly would not have prevented Sauron’s inevitable victory.

And so all the alternative there is is two forms of foolishness. So is there any hope?

Gandalf ponders Pippin’s question and, as he does so, he begins to find reasons to go on hoping, reasons that may be smaller than the biggest reason of all, that the Divine Power does not will that Frodo should fail, but big enough to give reason not to give in but to resist.

Sauron has launched his assault upon Minas Tirith before he is ready and while Frodo is still free. Now his attention will not be solely upon the borders of his own land, defending them against any attack, but upon Minas Tirith.

And Gandalf wonders why he is doing this now, and so he thinks back to the Stone of Orthanc that Pippin looked into and which he gave to Aragorn to keep.

“Ah! I wonder. Aragorn? His time draws near. And he is strong and stern underneath, Pippin; bold and determined, able to take his own counsel and dare great risks at need. That may be it. He may have used the Stone and shown himself to the Enemy, challenging him, for this very purpose.”

Indeed, we know that this is precisely what Aragorn has done, and why he has taken the Paths of the Dead, bringing with him the host of Oath Breakers to the port of Pelargir to relieve its defenders from the siege of the Corsairs of Umbar and to bring the fleet at anchor there up the Anduin to aid the defenders of Minas Tirith. This would indeed be a reason for hope but even if Aragorn were to succeed it would only bring a little hope, perhaps very little hope as Denethor will later assert.

And Pippin has one more question. Why have Frodo and Sam taken up with Gollum of all the creatures in the world, and why are they trying to enter Mordor by way of Cirith Ungol?

“And I could see that Faramir did not like the place he was taking them to any more than you do. What is wrong?”

And here at last Gandalf comes, in his response, closer to the greatest cause for hope of all. For even though he fears the way that Frodo and Sam have taken with their treacherous guide he must acknowledge that he does not know a better way. There is no better way. All ways into Mordor are defended and unassailable, or if they are less defended it would take so long to achieve as to render any success almost meaningless for there will be nothing to return to.

So, there is no hope except for the greatest hope of all, that a power greater than any upon Arda has willed that through the most unlikely of all means, by means of a treacherous guide, Frodo and Sam should achieve their task. But to desire this end is almost too much for anyone without falling into the most terrible pride or complacency. The best way remains to take one brave small step and then another.

“There are evil days ahead. To sleep while we may.”

“Ever Your Desire is To Appear Lordly and Generous as a King of Old”. Is This True of Faramir? What is The Difference Between Appearance and Reality?

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The Return of The King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 793-796

The words in this title are spoken by Denethor to Faramir. They are spoken in the private chamber of the Steward of Gondor and as well as Denethor and Faramir, Gandalf and Pippin are present too. That these characters should be gathered together at this meeting is not just a useful plot device. We all know by now that the story that Tolkien tells is almost always told through the eyes of the hobbits. There are very few scenes in the story in which one or another of them is not present. But Denethor has other reasons why he wants a hobbit present now. He is an intelligence gatherer, always seeking to build the most comprehensive picture of events possible. Later on we will learn that this desire almost cripples him as a man of action, but now it is enough to know that Pippin, the halfling out of ” northern legends” needs to be present. Denethor wants him there.

And it is there that he learns, along with Denethor and Gandalf, of Faramir’s encounter with Frodo and Sam in Ithilien, and how, just two days before the hobbits had set off with Gollum as their guide to the Morgul Vale and to Cirith Ungol. Gandalf makes little effort to hide his interest, indeed to hide his concern. It is the welfare of Frodo and Sam that matters most to him at this moment, and with their welfare the welfare of their mission, and the welfare of the world.

Denethor has other concerns. For him the issue that matters most is the welfare of Gondor. How can Gondor survive the attack that it is about to meet? How can Gondor emerge victorious from this war? Compared to those questions every other matter is of little or no importance. We will think more about this in a later blog, especially when we think about the Ring of Power, that we know is now on its way into Mordor, and which, for a little while, was in Faramir’s hands, even though he never even wished to look upon it.

But now we are thinking of Faramir himself. In the last two pieces that I wrote on this blog I wrote about him as a leader of men, about how his men would follow him, trust him, even in the most dangerous of circumstances. How his men would feel themselves greater than they really were, how they would know themselves as faithful. But what manner of man is this leader? Denethor shows what he thinks about this here.

“I know you well. Ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle. This may well befit one of high race, if he sits in power and peace. But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death.”

Denethor might be speaking of contemporary politics here. Indeed he is effectively accusing Faramir of playing a political game, of making a bid for power. He is aware of how his son is regarded by the people of Gondor. They may respect the Lord of the Tower but they love his son. We may never see a popularity poll in Gondor. Such things did not exist. But if they did it would probably show that Faramir is more popular than Denethor. How could he not be when in full view of the walls of Minas Tirith, the nearest that Gondor could come to a live broadcast, they watch him risk his own life to save that of his men? No wonder that crowds gathered at the gate to cheer for him and for Gandalf.

But we have seen enough of Faramir to know that his character and his appearance are of one kind, of one reality. He is as he appears to be. He appears “lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle” because that is what he truly is. For him this is not a luxury that belongs to a time of leisure, a pleasant thing to be cast aside when times are desperate, as Denethor puts it. He believes that victory for Gondor only has meaning if Gondor lives up to its highest qualities. Can there be ever victory for its own sake, victory because the only thing that matters is that our side rather than our opponents are the winners? If we win but behave like orcs, then the orcs have won, whoever may win the actual battle. Faramir refuses to think like this, and he refuses to act like this. He may never become a king but he behaves as a true king and not a false one.

“A Captain That Men Would Follow.” Some More Thoughts on Faramir of Gondor and Leadership.

/ stephencwinter / 8 Comments

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 790-793

I attended a workshop during the last week on the subject of Peace during which the facilitator asked us to imagine a situation in which Vladimir Putin, that is the Russian military, were to appear on the horizon. She then asked us what we do. Would we fight? I was fairly sure that I would despite my advancing years. There is so much that I love that I would want to defend, and the actions of the Russian military in Ukraine have taught me that they would show little mercy if they were to succeed in conquering my country or any part of it.

But then our workshop leader asked another question. Would I send my children to fight? Immediately I knew in my gut that this was a completely different question altogether, and as I pondered it, and am still pondering it, I knew that the reason why it was different centred around that word, sent. Could I send my children, in this case, my two daughters, into danger? This isn’t just a matter of gender. I am perfectly aware that women as well as men are participants in modern warfare. But I want to argue here is that there is a big difference between sending and leading. Quite literally, a leader goes in front of those who follow but sending is something quite different.

Pippin recognises this quality of the leader in Faramir when he meets him for the first time. As we saw in the last post, he knows that Faramir “is a captain that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings.” He has already seen Faramir go back to give aid to his men who had been thrown from their horses after the attack by the Nazgûl riding upon their steeds of the air. He could have chosen to flee for his life and to abandon his men. He could have argued that it was more important that the heir to the Steward of Gondor owed it to his people to preserve his own life, even at the cost of his men, but he does not do this. Beregond was not surprised. This is what he expects of his captain. But he does not take what Faramir does for granted. He honours, even loves his captain, for that is what a captain who leads and does not send inspires in his followers.

Denethor recognises the difference himself. At a later point in the story, he is together in the tower with Gandalf and Pippin and speaks of the Dark Lord who will wait in Barad-dur until victory is won by his armies.

“So do all great lords, if they are wise, Master Halfling. Or why should I sit here in my tower and think, and watch, and wait, spending even my sons?” (The Return of the King p.800)

And so, we have this contrast through the story. Théoden leads his men into battle, transforming them from a beaten rabble into a mighty army simply by virtue of his presence at their head. Aragorn leads his followers even on the Paths of the Dead because he goes at their head and does not send them. Dáin Ironfoot and Brand of Dale fall at the head of their men at the gates of Erebor repelling the attack of the forces of Mordor, just as Thorin Oakenshield fell at the Battle of the Five Armies as recorded in The Hobbit.

So I return to the question with which I began these thoughts. Would I fight if an enemy attacked my country? All my instincts say to me that I would. I would fight in order to protect all that I love, and above all, I would fight to protect my family even if it proved to be a fight in vain. But would I send my children to fight, even as a country might send its sons and daughters to fight for it? With the same desire to protect my own children I could never send them to take any risk that I was not first willing to take. I could never make them stand in front of me, but I would always be willing to stand between them and danger. This, I believe, is what it means to lead.

And there is one last word, as my friend and commentator, Kate Splieth, pointed out to me this week, a word that we can use in addition to leading and sending and maybe it is the best word of all. It is the word, with, a word that we know we can use concerning Faramir. His men know that he will always be with them, and they love him for this above all. And it is the word most used in the gospels about the relationship of God with God’s people. “And lo I am with you always…”

“He Was a Captain That Men Would Follow, That He Would Follow, Even Under the Shadow of The Black Wings.” Some Thoughts on Leadership as Faramir Returns to Minas Tirith.

/ stephencwinter / 13 Comments

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 788-793

“How are the people to know they are faithful, unless their captains tell them?” So wrote Richard Hooker, the Anglican theologian of the 16th and early 17th century who wrote the first major defence of the newly established Church of England under the reign of Queen Elizabeth I.

I don’t think that Pippin is a thinker, one given to deep reflection, but he has a good and faithful heart, and he needs to know that he is doing something right and of value. And that is the last thing that he feels that he is doing as he waits for war to break upon him. He may have been dressed in the livery of the Guard of the Tower, a high honour in Gondor. He may too have the honour of waiting upon the Steward of Gondor as his esquire. But deep down he feels of little use.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks Gandalf. And the answer that Gandalf gives to him brings him little comfort.

“You know quite well… To keep you out of mischief; and if you do not like being here, you can remember that you brought it upon yourself.”

Gandalf, of course, is speaking of the incident in which Pippin looked into the Stone of Orthanc and so saw Sauron himself and nearly gave away the whole mission of the Fellowship of the Ring. Much good came of that but it was all unintended, certainly by Pippin. He is no traitor, but he has been very foolish, and Gandalf intends that he should not forget this and so he might learn every lesson that he can from his foolishness.

Pippin feels a very small and insignificant figure among many great captains. There is Gandalf, of course, and then there is the frightening figure of Denethor, and the mighty Aragorn. But then comes the Lord Faramir, and Pippin responds to him in a way that he does not to any of the mighty ones that I have just mentioned.

Faramir is first seen leading his men towards the gate of Minas Tirith across the Pelennor Field, and as he does so, he is attacked by five fell riders of the air, by five Nazgûl riding upon their terrible steeds that swoop down upon the retreating soldiers. All the horses of Faramir’s men rear in terror and throw their riders but Faramir is able to master his and to return to the aid of the others. But for all his courage all would have been lost had it not been that Gandalf rode towards them upon Shadowfax and with a shaft of white light rising upwards from his hand drove away the attackers and so brought the soldiers safely back to the city.

All within the city walls are stirred by what they have witnessed and many rush to the gate where Gandalf and Faramir enter. Pippin is among them and when he reaches the gate he sees Faramir at close quarters for the very first time.

“Pippin pressed forward as they passed under the lamp beneath the gate-arch, and when he saw the pale face of Faramir he caught his breath. It was the face who has been assailed by a great fear or anguish, but has mastered it and now is quiet.”

Pippin is immediately reminded of Boromir, Faramir’s brother, who died in Pippin’s defence and who Pippin liked and admired. But I think there is something more that is happening here. As Pippin gazes upon Faramir’s face we read:

“He knew now why Beregond spoke his name with love. He was a captain that men would follow, that he would follow, even under the shadow of the black wings.”

And I know that I would have followed such a captain too when I was a young man. I have met some leaders for whom I have had considerable respect, even some that I would have loved to be picked out by and to follow them on some great venture, but I am not sure that I have ever met a Faramir. I wish that I had. I wonder if Tolkien ever did, or did the character of Faramir that he created, that he unexpectedly discovered as he wrote The Lord of the Rings, represent someone that he wished that he could have met.

It is such a captain to whom the people will always look in order to know that they are faithful and of worth. Happy the people who can find such a captain especially in time of need.