Pippin

“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.

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

“The Darkness Has Begun. There Will Be No Dawn.” Pippin Has Nothing to Do But Wait for the Beginning of War.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 750-755

I have always found these pages in The Return of the King difficult to read. Like everyone else in the story I am waiting for the battle to begin. Not that I love stories of battle. Actually the older I get the less I like them. It’s just that waiting is so very difficult. What do you do as you wait for something that is too big to put out of your mind but you know that it is going to happen whether you want it to or not.

Even Gandalf seems to be distracted and unable to concentrate his considerable mind. At the end of the chapter that we have been reading and thinking about Pippin very much does not want to be alone. He wants to see Gandalf again, a figure from the familiar world of the Fellowship that set out from Rivendell and which has shared so much together. But when Gandalf arrives in the dead of night and Pippin tells him that he is glad to see him back Gandalf’s grumpy response is to say: “I have come back here, for I must have a little peace, alone. You should sleep in a bed while you still may.” In other words, leave me alone, Pippin!

Poor Pippin. There is so much difference between a bed that is a place of profound rest after great struggle, as is the bed on the Field of Cormallen for Frodo and Sam after their terrible trials, and a bed, however comfortable, that is but a brief pause before a time of trial. As Gandalf puts it with brutal succinctness, “the night will be too short.”

For Pippin, indeed for Gandalf too, there is no escape from this time of waiting except to pass through it. Pippin may want some kind of company in order to distract himself from himself but so too does Gandalf.

“When will Faramir return?” he asks himself, searching in the darkness for some piece that is missing in the vain hope that it will make sense of everything. Gandalf might just have asked, when will Théoden, or Aragorn, arrive? He might even ask, when will Frodo and Sam complete their task? And for poor Pippin there is the nagging ache that lies deep within his soul that is the unanswered question, where is Merry?

And that is the problem when all is said and done. I might be able to ask the question, but that does not mean that my question can be answered. Or, at the very least, it does not mean that I have any power within myself to answer that question. Gandalf cannot make anything happen that can quieten his troubled mind. All that he can do is to wait.

Some well meaning guides might suggest a mindfulness technique at this point. If only Gandalf or Pippin could focus on a mantra of some kind or a sacred word, then all will be well. But all would not be well. The forces of Mordor would still be about to arrive and that can never be good whatever we might do to prepare to meet it. And Faramir, Théoden and Aragorn would still be somewhere unknown.

Pippin is going through an initiation. He has been ever since he passed his first uncomfortable night in the fields of the Shire after setting out with Frodo and Sam from Bag End. How that night, the night before the hobbits encountered the Nazgûl for the very first time, must seem like paradise as Pippin waits through a night after which there will be no dawn. But that is the point in an initiation. Its whole purpose is to teach you how to die before you die. It teaches you to live light to everything except for the things that really matter. It teaches you what those things really are. They aren’t the accumulation of wealth, not even of power. As Gildor Inglorien said to Frodo on the second night of the journey across the Shire, take those who you can trust. In other words, friendship matters far more than power.

On the night before the outbreak of war Pippin feels very much alone and afraid. He is forced to endure it by himself. But he will emerge from this experience as one who can be a source of great strength to others. Later, Faramir will have reason to be grateful for his friendship, so too will Merry who will not be left to die alone on the battlefield, and Aragorn who will not be killed by the troll on the field before the Black Gate of Mordor. This night may be desperately hard to endure but, along with all the other things that Pippin has to pass through, it will make him the “very valiant man” as he was introduced to Ingold and his men at the beginning of The Return of the King.

“A Pawn Did Gandalf Say? Perhaps; But On the Wrong Chessboard.” Pippin Feels Out of Place Amidst Preparations for War in Gondor.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 749-750

The Nazgûl that passed across the sun casting a shadow into the hearts of the defenders of Minas Tirith has gone and Pippin and Beregond sit silently for a time together for a time with bowed heads. Together they have spoken of the fear that hides within their hearts and a bond has been forged between them. Later this bond will save the life of Faramir and we will think about this on another occasion. Now Pippin of the Shire, one who as we have seen throughout the story is able to find courage and hope even when there seems to be no hope, stands up again and sees “that the sun was still shining, and the banners still streaming in the breeze.”

“No, my heart will not yet despair,” he declares. “Gandalf fell and has returned and is with us. We may stand, if only on one leg, or at least be left still upon our knees.”

When times seem hope-less we need friends who, like Pippin, seem almost constitutionally incapable of giving way to despair. We remember that it was Pippin who, when he and Merry were the captives of the orcs of Isengard, cut his bonds with a fallen orc blade and was able to leave his leaf broach, given to him in Lothlórien, on the plains of Rohan. Would anyone ever see this sign and follow them? Pippin did not know. But he refused to give in.

Defiance is kindled within the heart of Beregond and he stands tall once more. And we can imagine conversations like this taking place throughout the city as soldiers seek to en-courage one another. Indeed so much does Beregond recognise this quality of encouragement within his new companion that he invites Pippin to join him in his company’s mess hall. He wants to give a piece of Pippin to his comrades and they, in their turn welcome all that Pippin can give, plying him with so much food and drink that he has to take special care not to allow his tongue to run away with him. Pippin, the careless, is growing in wisdom on his journey.

And this is not the only way in which Pippin is growing in wisdom. He is beginning to learn what lies, what truly lies, within his heart. We might forgive a young man as he is, one who might naturally seek the approval, even admiration, of his fellows, if he were to begin to boast and swagger among them. Anyone who has ever spent time in the company of young men will know that a good deal of this goes on when they gather together. “Look at me!” they seem to be saying to one another. But Pippin is not a boy any longer. He has seen death and horror and, perhaps most importantly of all, he has known failure. And now as he watches Beregond the warrior of Gondor rousing his heart for battle he recalls some words that Gandalf spoke to him as they left their interview with Denethor.

“The Enemy has the move, and he is about to open his full game. And pawns are as likely to see as much of it as any, Peregrin son of Paladin, soldier of Gondor. Sharpen your blade!”

Gandalf likens the war to a game of chess and Pippin to a pawn upon the board waiting to be moved into position by others, knowing that often it is the part of pawns simply to be sacrificed for what is deemed a higher purpose. Pippin does not resent the title that is given to him. He has no pretence to any higher status within the game. He is no more significant a part of the game than anyone else. Indeed, as he watches Beregond stirring up his courage as he strikes the hilt of his sword he feels himself undeserving even of the title of pawn.

“A pawn did Gandalf say? Perhaps; but on the wrong chessboard.”

Pippin suddenly feels that he has no right to be anywhere near the war that is about to break out, no right to wear the livery of a soldier of Gondor among those who, in his eyes, deserve to be given this title. Perhaps it is just as well that he does not know that all the smiting of hilts and all the cries of defiance are, in truth, and in part at least, the efforts of his new comrades to be hide their own fears. We might even look back to Gandalf’s reply to Frodo when he realised the danger that his possession of the Ring had brought him and cried out that he wished it need not have happened in his time.

“So do all who live to see such times,” Gandalf replied.

So do all. And so does Pippin. And Beregond too.

“For if We Fall, Who Shall Stand? And, Master Peregrin, Do You See Any Hope That We Shall Stand?” Beregond and Pippin on the Walls of Minas Tirith.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 745-749

After Pippin and Beregond look to the welfare of Shadowfax and find food together they make their way onto the walls of the city and look out, north, east and south as final preparations are made for war. Far below them, on the road that winds through the Pelennor Fields, they see a line of wagons bearing the sad cargo of the women and children of the city heading southward, the ancient sign of war. The most vulnerable are torn from their homes and will rely now upon the kindness of strangers. So it continues until our own times.

Beregond may not be one of the captains of Gondor but he is a man who thinks both widely and deeply, and he begins to reflect upon the strategic peril of his own land and also of the free lands of the West. Already there is news that the Corsairs of Umbar are sailing towards the seaport of Pelargir; and because of the threat they pose the people of the south are staying near their homes in order to defend them instead of coming to the aid of Minas Tirith. And then Beregond ponders the events in Rohan that Pippin has described to him.

“The doings at Isengard should warn us that we are caught now in a great net and strategy. This is no longer a bickering at the fords, raiding from Ithilien and from Anórien, ambushing and pillaging. This is a great war long planned, and we are but one piece in it, whatever pride may say.”

At last Pippin and Beregond look out towards the east from which the darkness comes and Beregond asks of Pippin and of his own heart the question to which he most fears an answer.

“Here will the hammer-stroke fall hardest. And for that reason Mithrandir came in such haste. For if we fall, who shall stand? And Master Peregrin, do you see any hope that we shall stand?”

Is there any hope? That is the question that everything comes to. And as Beregond asks the question so Pippin’s imagination is filled with memories of the journey that he has undertaken. He thinks of the Uruk-hai of Isengard in the woods and the fall of Boromir and he remembers the pursuit of the Nazgûl in the lanes of the Shire at a time when he had little understanding of the peril that they represented. And as he remembers them and all that he has known of their terror a shadow passes across the sun and Pippin turns white and cowers against the wall. Beregond bears no judgement at all as he sees Pippin’s reaction.

“You also felt something?”

“Yes,” muttered Pippin. “It is the sign of our fall, and the shadow of doom, a Fell Rider of the air.”

“Yes, the shadow of doom,” said Beregond. “I fear that Minas Tirith shall fall. Night comes. The warmth of my blood seems stolen away.”

Pippin and Beregond seem overwhelmed by the horror that is coming to assail them. Every hope, every dream that they may have carried in their hearts both for themselves and for those that they love is extinguished in their hearts. All that there is is darkness. We are reminded of the account of the Last Supper that is given by St John and the moment when Judas Iscariot goes from the upper room to betray Jesus to the Temple authorities and the words that conclude this part of the story.

“And it was night.”

In the greatest stories, perhaps even in the story that is our life, there will come a moment when there is only darkness that can be seen and there seems no light beyond it. We saw Sam Gamgee kneel beside the body of Frodo, filled as it was with Shelob’s venom. We fell to the ground in horror with the Fellowship after the fall of Gandalf at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. At those moments all hope seemed lost. But there was still a moment beyond that. And another one, and another. And in some way another step was taken. And another. As Aragorn said at the eastern gate of Moria. “We shall go on without hope.”

“They Say that Men Who Go Warring Afield Look Ever to the Next Hope of Food and Of Drink.” Pippin Makes the Acquaintance of Beregond of the Guard.

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The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 744-745

After his gruelling encounter with the Lord Denethor, Steward of Gondor, Pippin unsurprisingly responds to this experience as would any self respecting hobbit. He looks for something to eat. The tower bell has just struck 9 o’clock and Pippin stands alone in the street.

“Just the time for a nice breakfast, by the open window in spring sunshine,” he says to himself and immediately we are reminded of Bilbo on the adventure that we know as The Hobbit. Pippin reminds more of Bilbo than of Frodo. It is unlikely that Thorin Oakenshield would have praised Frodo for his pleasure in the matters of the table as he did Bilbo but he would have recognised in Pippin a kindred spirit to his friend and travelling companion. And he would not have mistaken Pippin’s love for food and drink for inadequacy in martial valour. Nor does Beregond of the Guard when Pippin asks him where he might find something to eat.

“Beregond looked at him gravely. ‘An old campaigner, I see,’ he said. ‘They say that men who go warring afield look ever to the next hope of food and drink; though I am not a travelled man myself.”

Tolkien, an army veteran himself of the First World War (1914-18), knew of what he spoke. It is thought that one of the things that encouraged young men in Britain to sign up at the outbreak of the war in 1914 was the guarantee of a good meal every single day. My father, himself a veteran of the Normandy landings in the Second World War of June 1944, and of the battles that followed them, used to speak of how the officers would never sit down for their own meal in the evening until they had made sure that the men under their command had eaten theirs.

Unbeknown to himself Pippin has already eaten breakfast in the company of the Steward of Gondor. As he says to Beregond it was “no more than a cup of wine and a white cake or two by the kindness of your lord”. To Pippin this was little more than a snack and hard earned because of Denethor’s interrogation but Beregond laughs and then replies that Pippin has broken his fast “as well as any man in the Citadel, and with greater honour.” It is worth noting here that the character of Denethor that Tolkien draws is very different from that created by Peter Jackson. I am sure that my readers will remember the scene in the film in which Denethor consumes a lavish meal served by a Pippin who is trying to hide his distaste as Faramir leads his men into battle in a suicidal cavalry charge. This is far from Tolkien’s creation. Denethor is no glutton. If anything he is a man incapable of escaping the bleak austerity of a city under siege. In the last post on this blog we spoke of Denethor’s wanhope, a state of mind to quote Chaucer, “that is despair of the mercy of God that comes sometimes of too much outrageous sorrow and sometimes of too much dread”.

Pippin, like Gandalf as we have thought about in recent posts, is a lover of life. By this we do not mean that he will “eat, drink and be merry” for all that he has to look forward to is death. Pippin does eat and drink, and he is certainly merry, but he does so in celebration of life. Pippin knows deep sorrow. He saw Boromir fall and he carries the pain of that sorrow with him wherever he goes and has offered himself in service to Boromir’s father in payment of the debt he feels he owes. But Pippin does this because in all things he joyfully affirms the life that Boromir laid down for him. Maybe that is why he was able to see the mirth in Gandalf that always lies just below the surface. Maybe that is why he is drawn to Gandalf. Maybe that is also why Gandalf is drawn to him.

“Pippin Perceived That Gandalf Had The Greater Power, and a Deeper Wisdom, and a Majesty That Was Veiled.” Pippin Begins to Ask The Question, “What Was Gandalf?”

/ stephencwinter / 6 Comments

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 740-743

This is the second post that I am writing about Gandalf in this short series based upon his arrival in Minas Tirith with Pippin. What I seek to write is, in effect, an attempt to answer a question that Pippin asked of himself in the throne room of Gondor as he stood between Gandalf and Denethor and felt the power of both.

“Denethor looked indeed much more like a great wizard than Gandalf did, more kingly, beautiful and powerful; and older. Yet by a sense other than sight Pippin perceived that Gandalf had the greater power and the deeper wisdom, and a majesty that was veiled. And he was older, far older.”

It is the contrast between Gandalf and Denethor that causes Pippin to deepen his perception, causes him to begin to realise that reality is more than can be understood through the senses. Denethor merely looked more like a great wizard than Gandalf. It requires the development of an inner eye for Pippin to begin to truly see. Perhaps it was his experience with the Palantír, the Seeing Stone, and maybe even his encounter with Sauron himself through that medium and the recognition of his utter vulnerability that accelerated Pippin’s journey towards a greater wisdom. And it leads him to a question.

“What was Gandalf?”

It is thanks to Christopher Tolkien that we have so many of his father’s papers that remained unpublished during his lifetime and in one that was published as an essay entitled, The Istari, in Unfinished Tales (Harper Collins 1998 pp. 502-520) Tolkien tells us much that is only hinted at in The Lord of the Rings. For example, take the insight that Pippin has “a majesty that was veiled”. In his essay we read this about Gandalf and the other Istari.

We read that during the Third Age the Valar sent with the consent of Eru, “members of their own high order” to Middle-earth. And that, although they were by nature spirits they were “clad in bodies as of Men, real and not feigned”. The point was that when in the First Age the Valar became aware of the coming of the Elves, the First Born, to Middle-earth, they went there from Valinor to persuade them to leave Middle-earth and to go with them to the safety of the Undying Lands, away from the threat of Morgoth. But they went in their full glory and terrified many of the Elves who refused to go with them. In sending the Istari in the Third Age the Valar determined not to repeat the same mistake.

“The emissaries were forbidden to reveal themselves in forms of majesty, or to seek to rule the wills of Men or Elves by open display of power, but coming in shapes weak and humble were bidden to advise and persuade Men and Elves to do good, and to seek to unite in love and understanding all those whom Sauron, should he come again, would endeavour to dominate and corrupt.” (Unfinished Tales p. 503)

Of the five wizards who came to the north of Middle-earth, two, the Blue Wizards, do not enter our tale. Even Tolkien did not know much of what became of them except that they may have gone into the East. Radagast the Brown, who makes a charming appearance in Peter Jackson’s Hobbit movies, riding his sleigh drawn by hares, seems to have given up so much power that he no longer had much to do with those who might oppose Sauron, preferring to live among birds and animals. Saruman, we know, came to reveal himself in majesty, becoming impatient with the free peoples of Middle-earth and with the patience of the Valar and of Eru. Eventually he even chose to ally himself with Sauron while plotting to replace him as Dark Lord through his own study in rings of power. Only Gandalf remained true to his original calling.

Tolkien was devoutly Roman Catholic and as I read these words about the mission of the Istari I cannot help but ask the question whether he felt that the Church should not go to the world, seeking to rule the lives of people “by open display of power”. Should the Church go to the world in “shapes weak and humble” as Gandalf did? Were the occasions in which the Church, and especially its bishops, sought to terrify ordinary folk, occasions in which it fell into the temptation of Saruman. Were the splendid palaces of the princes of the Church expressions of Isengard rather than Rivendell? Should the servants of the Church be pilgrims on the same roads as ordinary people as Gandalf is rather than mighty lords as Saruman became?

“Under All There Was There Was a Great Joy: a Fountain of Mirth Enough to Set a Kingdom Laughing.” Who is Being Described Here?

/ stephencwinter / 8 Comments

The Return of the King by J.R.R (Harper Collins 1991) pp 741-743

I posed a question in the title of this blog post because I don’t think that the answer is immediately obvious. If the quotation in the title was a part of a quiz question and you were asked to identify who is being described I feel quite certain that a few, at least, of my reade1rs would not identify the character. After all, in Peter Jackson’s films there are only two occasions on which he laughs aloud. The first is upon his arrival in the Shire at the beginning of the story, the second when he celebrates the fall of Sauron and the recovery of Frodo and Sam.

The character to whom I am of course referring is Gandalf and the one who is describing him is Pippin.

I think that there is an element of surprise here about both of them. Gandalf is usually a very serious character and Pippin is surprised indeed by the sound of Gandalf’s laughter.

“Are you angry with me, Gandalf?” Pippin asks as they emerge from the throne room together. “I did the best I could.”

“You did indeed!” said Gandalf, laughing suddenly; and he came and stood beside Pippin, putting his arm across the hobbit’s shoulders, and gazed out of the window. Pippin glanced in some wonder at the face now close beside his own for the sound of that laugh had been gay and merry. Yet in the wizard’s face he saw at first only lines of care and sorrow; though as he looked more intently he perceived that under all there was a great joy: a fountain of mirth enough to set a kingdom laughing, were it to gush forth.”

I will return to thoughts about Gandalf in a moment as it is about him that we are thinking in this post but I did refer to two elements of surprise. The second element, of course, is what we learn about Pippin. It is Pippin who glances in wonder at Gandalf. He glances, of course, because he is too shy to stare at Gandalf. But his glance is one of wonder, wonder at the gaiety and merriment that he discerns in a laugh that comes from someone in whom until now he has only seen “care and sorrow”.

Pippin is growing. And he is growing fast.

We will return to Pippin on another occasion but now we must think more about Gandalf. Perhaps, like Pippin, we have only seen Gandalf’s surface, his care and sorrow, until now. There is nothing to be ashamed of here. Gandalf has much to be sorrowful about as he has long carried the burdens of care for Middle-earth upon his shoulders. As he said to Denethor in the throne room: “But all worthy things that are in peril as the world now stands, those are my care.” For Gandalf too is a steward, even as Denethor is, but his stewardship is over a greater realm than Gondor and he is a lord over no realm or people. His stewardship is one of care alone.

When Gandalf first arrived at the Grey Havens in Middle-earth around the year 1000 of the Third Age Círdan, the Warden of the Havens greeted him with sober speech.

“Great perils and labours lie before you, and lest your task prove too great and wearisome, take this ring for your aid and comfort.” (Unfinished Tales Harper Collins 1998 p. 504)

In the next few posts on my blog I intend to think much more about Gandalf, both about his labours but also about his joy. The two are intimately bound together and it is essential that we see them as such. As we think about Gandalf we might be reminded of lines from William Blake’s great poem, Auguries of Innocence:

“Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine.”

For Blake it is impossible to separate the two aspects of our lives and unwise even to seek to do so. It is only possible, as he puts it in the poem, to go safely through the world if we know that we are “made for joy and woe”, together. If we try to eliminate woe, or sadness, from our lives, we will go astray, if we are willing to carry our share of the burdens and care of the world upon our shoulders and yet to bear them with joy then we can do some good in the world. To live a life of joyful responsibility might release, if not a fountain of mirth to set a kingdom laughing, then perhaps at least a merry stream that bubbles up from the ground to water our families and maybe something wider than that.