The Dawn

“And in That Very Moment, Away Behind in Some Courtyard of The City, a Cock Crowed.” When The Earth Fights Back Against The Servants of Darkness.

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

The “very moment” that Tolkien speaks of here is the moment that the Morgul Lord describes as “my hour”, the triumph of the powers of darkness over the free peoples of Middle-earth. As the defenders of Minas Tirith flee before him only Gandalf stands. But what happens next is not a mighty struggle such as took place in the mines of Moria when Gandalf fought the Balrog and died as he overthrew his enemy, but the sound of horns. The Riders of Rohan have come at last to the aid of their ancient allies.

And there is something else, something that the Morgul Lord does not seem to notice, but is absolutely fundamental to the turning of the battle before the walls of the city.

“And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.”

The Witch-King does not notice this because why should he? What does it matter to him that in the heart of a great battle such a thing should happen? The doings of small creatures are beneath his notice. Ultimately, the doings of any creature are of nothing to him, chief of all the servants of the Dark Lord. The end of that creature, as is the end of any creature, is darkness, so why should he bother?

Except that the crowing of the cockerel announces a turning of the tide. Maybe not the ultimate downfall of his master, that is yet to come and is equally unlooked for, but it is the turning of the tide in the story of that day, because what the cock announces in its crowing is the coming of the dawn.

For many days now there has been no dawn. The smokes of Mount Doom have spread over the lands of the south, reaching even the mustering of the Riders of Rohan in Harrowdale far off in Rohan. As the world turns towards the springtime of the year Sauron declares to that world that there will be no spring, there will be no welcome to the return of life, but only darkness. His own armies and most especially his orcs, fear the sun, and even his allies who have sold themselves to the power of darkness acknowledge its inevitable triumph and serve it. Frodo may have cried out in defiance at the setting of the sun at the Crossroads that the Powers of Darkness will not conquer forever, but if Sauron had heard that cry he might have named it as bravery in the face of defeat but nothing more than that. Both he and his master, Morgoth, have heard many such cries and have never feared them.

But the crowing of the cock is not a cry of defiance. The cock is simply doing what he has always done when the dawn breaks over the world. He crows. And in the simple act of his crowing, he declares something that undermines the power of every tyrant. He declares that although the earth is marred by darkness it is both good and free. He declares that “the heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handiwork.” That the sun “as a bridegroom cometh out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.” The good earth and the good sun is not the servant of Sauron but of Eru Ilúvatar, the Creator of all. The morning is coming high above the shadows that Sauron has made, and he has no power over it, and with the changing of the direction of the wind those shadows are beginning to lift, and the cock crows to welcome the dawn and the ending of the night.

The words that the Morgul Lord speaks to Gandalf in the gate of the city inevitably recall the words that Jesus spoke to the temple guards who had come to arrest him in the Garden of Gethsemane: “but this is your hour and the power of darkness” (Luke 22.53). But just as the power of darkness in the gospel has only the power permitted to it for it to wield so too the power of the Morgul Lord is only for a moment. The cock crow announces the end of that power as the dawn breaks and the horns of Rohan sound.

The Dark Lord is Afraid of the Dark

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Last week I tweeted the link to my Blog “The Darkness Shall be the Light” and then became anxious. What if people should think that I was a supporter of Sauron, the Dark Lord himself? Surely this would be the kind of slogan that either he or his lord, Morgoth, might use? And so I rapidly typed in the words, “And I don’t mean Sauron!” into my Tweet. But after sending it I began to think. Why should I not mean Sauron? For Sauron would try to twist anything to his own purpose, even light itself. Readers of this Blog will know that I have thought of Morgoth’s hunger for light, a story that Tolkien told in The Silmarillion, on a number of occasions. Tolkien tells how Morgoth destroyed the Trees of Light with the aid of the monstrous spider like creature, Ungoliant, and later how he stole the Silmarils, jewels made by Feanor that captured the light of the Trees, and placed them in his iron crown even though they caused him torment. Thus the relationship between Morgoth and his followers, Sauron foremost among them, is ambiguous and contradictory from the start. And how could it be otherwise? For Morgoth and Sauron desire that which will expose them and leave them vulnerable and will also remind them for ever of the blessed state that they have rejected in favour of their own desire for power over others.

And there is one thing more that struck me as I considered this. Sauron fears the very thing that he uses as a weapon against others. He does not delight in the dark as I might delight in a scene of great beauty like the view from a hill top. He can only use something. He cannot delight in it. For delight is the enjoyment of something or someone for their own sake. I do not seek to own the view that lies before me and even if I did I do not think that it could give me more pleasure than it does. Sauron can never think like this. He is only capable of thinking in terms of usefulness and especially in terms of how he can use something in order to gain more power over others. Long experience has taught him that he can use darkness as an instrument of fear, that by cloaking himself he can suggest to others that his power is greater than it truly is. He seeks to blot out the light of the sun in order to weaken the resolve of those who would resist him and yet he knows that should he fail what awaits him is endless night and he fears that above all. Sauron, the Dark Lord, is afraid of the dark, he is afraid of death.

And this makes him different from the members of the Fellowship of the Ring. They too fear the dark and yet they love the light more and for the sake of the light they will journey down dark roads, facing their own fear and overcoming it. It is because of the dark journeys that they themselves have taken that Gandalf and Aragorn are able to bring Théoden out of his dark places into the light and then onwards into battle with little hope first against Saruman and then the Dark Lord himself. They teach Théoden that beyond all nights there is a dawn and that at the ending of this world of shadows there is the True Dawn.

Near my home there is a woodland with two streams running through it that join at its heart. Last year in the dark months I did not venture into it except in the daylight. This year I have decided to make a daily journey in it to the point where the streams join a spiritual exercise. I want to make my own dark journey through the woods. It is only a journey of a couple of hundred yards but each day I leave the known way of the path that runs past the woods and step into them into sudden and deeper dark. I realise that I am reliant on my memory of familiar points along my way and also the feel of the ground beneath my feet. There is a narrow path through the woods though it is not distinct enough for me to be able to see it, even at my feet. I rely on making out the difference between feel of the trodden down ground of the path and the softer ground that lies to either side of it beneath my boots. At present I am concentrating on the physical experience. How it feels not to be able to see, the moments of anxiety when I miss my way, and the excitement and relief when I meet the joining of the streams or clasp a great beech tree that tells me that I am near the end of my own dark journey. Eventually I would like to develop a form of prayer that will make the experience more consciously my own and help me to open my self to whatever gifts this place and the walk through it at this dark time of the year might be awaiting me. Most of all I seek the dawn that come only through journeying through the dark of the night. Maybe I will meet and overcome the monsters in my own psyche. Maybe I will journey through my own sense of loss and the death of my hopes as Aragorn does.