The Rohirrim

“Welcome, My Lords, to Isengard!” The Doorwardens of Isengard Greet Théoden as He Comes to The Fortress of Saruman.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 716-729

The pages that follow Gimli’s beautiful description of the Caves of Aglarond comprise a long slow journey into the unknown. One might think that Théoden and his company might ride with a light heart after their great victory over the hosts of Isengard but we have already seen the much vaunted plainness of manner of the men of Rohan when Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli first met them upon the grassy plains while hunting Merry and Pippin as the Uruk-hai were taking them to Isengard. An occasion when Éomer’s men simply dismissed the strangeness of the three companions as an expression of their wildness. And now, as they encounter the strangeness of the forest that has moved from Fangorn to Helm’s Deep the company who accompany their king descend into an unhappy and, occasionally, frightened, silence.

The uncanny world through which the Riders pass.

At one point Théoden and Gandalf speak together about the nature of stories that are told only to children and we will return to this in more detail next week reflecting in particular on Tolkien’s famous lecture on Fairy Tales but now I will only note that, while Théoden’s sense of wonder is gradually awakened during the ride to Isengard, he does not share this experience with his men. At last as they approach the outer fortifications of Isengard the growing sense of grim bleakness accompanied by menace seems complete.

This mood begins to shift subtly and gradually as they perceive that “the power of Saruman was overthrown”. The doors of Isengard “lay hurled and twisted on the ground. And all about, stone, cracked and splintered into countless jagged shards, was scattered far and wide, or piled into ruinous heaps.”

The riders gaze upon the ruin of Isengard in uncomprehending silence but then become aware that within its midst there are two small grey-clad figures lying upon the rubble at their ease and that beside them there are “bottles, bowls and platters… as if they had just eaten well, and now rested from their labour.” One of the figures seems to be asleep while the other “leaned back against a broken rock and sent from his mouth long wisps and little rings of thin blue smoke.”

“Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard!”

Of course we have just met Merry and Pippin once again taking their ease as soldiers will after battle with whatever is available to them. We last saw the young hobbits with Treebeard on the night before the Ents’ assault upon Saruman when he was wondering if they were all going to their doom, whether it might be “the last march of the Ents”. And now the battle is done and victory won and all the tension is released.

And not just for Merry and Pippin. Soon all the company who are with Théoden and Gandalf are laughing too. It is as if the young hobbits have gently escorted the Riders from their shared experience of gathering gloom and mute incomprehension into something quite different and much more pleasant.

I can think of few better examples of bathos, that swift descent, sometimes of the sublime to the ridiculous, sometimes of the uncanny to the familiar, sometimes of the terrifying to the safe, than this. From the ending of the battle at Helm’s Deep to the encounter with the hobbits there are some twenty pages in my edition of The Lord of the Rings and throughout those pages the mood is as I have described it above. At no point does Tolkien relent in his creation of this feeling of anxious, fearful incomprehension. Not until the bubble is burst by two young hobbits. And who better within all Tolkien’s legendarium to take us into a world that is less fearful and gentler than hobbits.

Except for the Riders of Rohan hobbits also belong to the world of folktales and fairy stories. But unlike the dwimmer-craftiness of wizards (Gandalf included) or the terrifying silent presence of the Huorns of Fangorn hobbits are not to be thought a threat. Most of the time, indeed, they are anxious not to appear such. This lack of apparent threat does of course lead to the downfall of the greatest tyrants of this age. Tyrants always seem to fall to those who they have underestimated. But now the young hobbits do as they are most at their ease in doing. They gently help a group of men descend from a state of heightened anxiety and foreboding to a gentler place. While infuriating the friends who lay down all their dreams and ambitions even their lives in pursuing them across Rohan. But that we will return to on another occasion.

“Forth Eorlingas!” Tolkien and The Restoration of The Heroic in Warfare.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 682-691

It is important at the outset of these thoughts on warfare in The Lord of the Rings to note that from the arraying of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli in gear of warfare before the gates of Edoras to the final victory over the hosts of Isengard before Helm’s Deep there are only twenty-seven pages in the Harper Collins edition of The Two Towers. Compare that to the amount of time devoted to the battle in Peter Jackson’s film of the same name and even before we think about the battle at all we see that this Hollywood action movie treats warfare very differently to the way in which Tolkien does.

Tolkien’s personal experience of warfare was very different to that of the armies who fight in his great story. Harold MacMillan, who was the British Prime Minister in the late 1950s and early 1960s was a fellow officer to Tolkien at the Battle of the Somme in 1916 on whose first day the British army lost 60,000 men killed and wounded. MacMillan was himself one of the wounded and spent several hours hiding in a shell hole and reading Aeschylus in Greek to distract himself from the pain before before being found by British soldiers. In a letter of the time he wrote that “perhaps the most extraordinary thing about a modern battlefield is the desolation and emptiness of it all… One can look for miles and see no human being. But in those miles of country lurk (like moles or rats, it seems) thousands, even hundreds of thousands of men, planning against each other perpetually some new device of death. Never showing themselves, they launch at each other bullet, bomb, aerial torpedo, and shell.”

Harold MacMillan as a young infantry officer.

It was a shell that hit and wounded MacMillan as he led an advance of his men towards the German lines. I quote these lines in a reflection upon Tolkien because they describe with dreadful eloquence the experience of warfare shared by soldiers of both sides in that dreadful conflict and contrast so starkly with the language that Tolkien uses to describe the ride of the Rohirrim to Helm’s Deep. Not that Tolkien ignores the horror of war. Théoden describes the hosts of Isengard as they advance “burning as they come, rick, cot and tree”. But he also writes of the beauty of a host of men about to ride out in defence of their homes and families.

“At the gate they found a great host of men, old and young, all ready in the saddle. More than a thousand were there mustered. Their spears were like a springing wood. Loudly and joyously they shouted as Théoden came forth.”

The Riders of Rohan

Tolkien profoundly understood the contrast between the desolate horror that MacMillan described and the heroic language that he used in his own descriptions of battle. Indeed he expressed that contrast in his distinction between the orcs of Mordor and Isengard and, for example, the Riders of Rohan. While the armies of Saruman and of Sauron use all the devices available to them of industrial warfare, the Rohirrim ride into battle carrying spear and sword; and Tolkien’s account is full of acts of individual heroism on the part of the defenders of Helm’s Deep while their enemies are faceless.

What Tolkien achieved in The Lord of the Rings was a restoration of humanity in the brutal and faceless experience of warfare that he knew and which MacMillan described. This means that he is a genuinely modern writer whose war literature can be included alongside A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway or Robert Graves Goodbye to All That. But whereas Hemingway and Graves seek, with great success, to express the experience that MacMillan describes, Tolkien does something quite different. He attempts a kind of redemption of the brutal experience of warfare by restoring the heroic to it. While he understood the experience that Wilfred Owen described in speaking of “these who die as cattle” he restores to those who die a human face and personal heroism.

“What passing bells for these who die as cattle?”

But I must end where I began. Tolkien never sought to glorify war in his writings. This is perhaps best and most explicitly expressed by Faramir who is a warrior by necessity and not by choice and, of all the characters in The Lord of the Rings speaks most in Tolkien’s own voice.

“War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all, but I do not love the bright sword for its sharpness, nor the arrow for its swiftness, nor the warrior for his glory. I love only that which they defend.”

“His Hand Met Hers and He Knew that She Trembled at The Touch”. The Beginning of the Story of Éowyn and Aragorn.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 677-683

It was at the doors of Meduseld that Aragorn first declared himself and his high lineage. Háma, the door warden had commanded that no weapon be brought into the hall and Aragorn had questioned whether Théoden had the authority to demand this of him.

“It is not clear to me that the will of Théoden, son of Thengel, even though he be lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Elendil’s heir of Gondor.”

Aragorn had already declared his lineage to Éomer when they first met on the plains of Rohan and doubtless when Éomer had made defence of his mission to intercept and destroy the company of orcs that were crossing the plains he had spoken of this but if he had then Wormtongue would have dismissed Éomer’s report as the deranged words of some vagabond wandering across Théoden’s lands. But Éowyn would have heard these words and would have seen the mighty warrior who had stood before her uncle in his hall as Gandalf had performed his act of healing and as she saw with her own eyes the transformation of a broken man into a king ready to lead his men to war.

Éowyn has had to live a secret life. Indeed, so secret has it been that when Théoden’s men ask that one from the House of Eorl should lead the people to the defences of Dunharrow he has no idea who they mean. She has been almost invisible to him simply being there to tend to his needs as he descended into decrepitude.

Angelo Montanini depicts Éowyn in her invisibility at the side of Théoden.

Later in the story as Éowyn lies in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith Gandalf will speak of that secret life. Éomer will show that he too was unaware of what lay within his sister’s heart, saying that it was because of Aragorn that she had given way to despair even though he knew that Aragorn bore no blame for this. But Gandalf corrected him.

“My friend… you had horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, born in the body of a maid, had a spirit and courage at least the match of yours. Yet she was doomed to wait upon an old man, whom she loved as a father, and watch him falling into a mean dishonoured dotage; and her part seemed to her more ignoble than that of the staff he leaned on.”

Éowyn the warrior as depicted in Deviantart

Tolkien has received considerable criticism over the years about the apparent invisibility of women in his stories. Peter Jackson’s decision to make Arwen an active character in The Fellowship of the Ring giving her the part that is played by Glorfindel in the book is in many ways a response to this criticism. I remember my own surprise when Arwen appeared in the story as a warrior who would resist the Nazgûl but I quickly realised why Jackson would make this choice and accepted it. But the character of Éowyn is no response to criticism. She is Tolkien’s creation and Gandalf’s words show that Tolkien fully understood both the richness of her character and also the injustice of the way in which women had been treated through history in life and in story. In a warrior culture, which Rohan is, it is perhaps inevitable that women would be expected to be servants to men who would be those warriors. But Éowyn has undoubtedly learned skill in arms, perhaps because she was a member of the royal house, perhaps because it amused the teachers of the arts of war to teach this eager young princess. She may have been invisible to Théoden but not to others.

“She is fearless and high-hearted,” Háma says to Théoden when he asks that Éowyn should lead the people to Dunharrow. “All love her. Let her be as lord to the Eorlingas, while we are gone.”

Háma may have seen something of what Éowyn truly was but she herself felt the dishonour of her position; to be a mere serving girl in a house of little honour. So it was that when Aragorn appeared in her life he represented something that she longed for. Aragorn put it this way himself in speaking to Éomer.

“In me she loves only a shadow and a thought: a hope of glory and great deeds, and lands far from the fields of Rohan.”

Éowyn has been doomed to live a life in shadows until now but like her uncle she too will come to embrace life in all its joy and sorrow. But unlike Théoden, who was restored to himself in a single day, her journey to wholeness will first lead her to false hope in the form of the heir of Isildur and to despair when that hope is taken from her.

Éowyn longs for freedom.

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

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

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

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

Peter Jackson’s imagining of Meduseld.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is Shadowfax. He is The Chief of The Mearas, Lords of Horses”. Gandalf Must Reach Edoras Swiftly.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 657-659

Aragorn need do no more choosing. At least not for a while. Gandalf has bidden him not to regret the choice that he made in the valley of the Emyn Muil and to go to Edoras and to Théoden in his hall where he is needed.

“The light of Andúril must now be uncovered in the battle for which it has so long waited.”

And so on the edge of the forest and the plains of Rohan Gandalf gives a long whistle, “clear and piercing” and soon the companions hear the whinny of a horse and soon the sound of hooves also.

“There are three,” said Legolas, gazing over the plain. “See how they run! There is Hasufel, and there is my friend Arod beside him! But there is another that strides ahead: a very great horse. I have not seen his like before.”

Shadowfax, Lord of the Mearas

Readers will remember how, on the night before they had entered Fangorn in search of Merry and Pippin, Saruman had come to the camp in search of news of what had happened to the band of orcs that he had sent in search of the Fellowship and of hobbits in particular. He chased Arod and Hasufel away but soon Legolas and Gimli heard a sound that mystified them. They had expected to hear the cries of frightened horses but heard joy instead. For what they heard was their horses meeting Shadowfax, their lord.

“That is Shadowfax,” said Gandalf. “He is the chief of the Mearas , lords of horses, and not even Théoden, King of Rohan, has ever looked on a better. Does he not shine like silver, and run as swiftly as a swift stream?”

Gandalf first met Shadowfax after he escaped from his captivity in Isengard, borne by Gwaihir, lord of eagles, to Edoras. Gandalf had tried to warn Théoden about Saruman but he was not listened to. Théoden told Gandalf to choose a horse and to depart and Gandalf chose Shadowfax who had never been ridden before.

The Rohirrim had long had a close relationship to horses, closer than any other people in Middle-earth. Tolkien based this people upon the English who dwelt in this land before the Norman conquest of 1066. The language that he created for them was closest to Old English, a language that he taught in Oxford. But Tolkien gave the Rohirrim something that the ancient people of England never had, a mastery of horses. For although the warrior elite of England could ride the mass of the people who would make up the army in time of war could not. The army of England was essentially an infantry force and in 1066 it had to fight two battles against invading forces. The first against Harold Hadrada of Norway was fought at Stamford Bridge in the north of England and the second, just a few days later, was fought against a Norman army under William the Conquerer near Hastings on the south coast. The Normans won the battle decisively and William became king. Tolkien believed that the imposition of the French language as the language of the new rulers of England and the relegation of English to the language of the peasantry destroyed the indigenous mythology of England. He also believed that a key factor in the English defeat was the lack of any effective cavalry in the English army and the use of cavalry by the Normans. As a consequence he not only gave horses to the Rohirrim but built an entire culture around this. The Rohirrim were the horse lords.

Norman Knights in Battle

I know little about horses myself but have long admired them and I live in an area of England with a strong tradition of horse riding and horse racing. I spent many hours watching my daughters learn to ride as they grew up and observed the bond that can develop between horse and rider at close quarters. This bond is very deep indeed between Gandalf and Shadowfax. We see him ask permission of him and Arod and Hasufel to carry the four companions to Edoras.

“Gandalf caressed him. ‘It is a long way from Rivendell, my friend,’ he said, ‘but you are wise and swift and come at need. Far let us ride now together, and part not in this world again!’

Far let us ride now and part not in this world again!

“Do We Walk in Legends or On The Green Earth in Daylight?” The Riders of Rohan Encounter Dreams of Legend Springing Out of the Grass.

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The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991/2007) pp.558-565

As Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli continue their weary and hopeless march across the plains of Rohan in pursuit of the orc host that have taken Merry and Pippin captive they become aware that a band of horsemen is moving swiftly towards them back down the very trail that they are following. The horsemen are Rohirrim, riders of Rohan. Aragorn describes them to his companions.

“They are proud and wilful, but they are true-hearted, generous in thought and deed; bold but not cruel; wise but unlearned; writing no books but singing many songs, after the manner of the children of Men before the Dark Years.”

The Riders of Rohan at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields

The companions decide to wait for the riders to come to them and Aragorn greets them as they ride by. Wrapped about in their cloaks of Lothlórien it seems to the riders that they have sprung from the grass itself and what follows is a tense encounter that almost ends in disaster. For Tolkien in this scene brings us into the heroic world of the North in which honour has more meaning than even life itself and most certainly of a life, or existence, in which honour has been lost. So Gimli is ready, almost eager, to die for the sake of the honour of Galadriel, the lady of Lothlórien, when he feels that it has been slighted by Éomer, who leads the company of riders.

The Rohirrim surround the three companions

Aragorn is able to avert the disaster but then, in the manner in which he announces himself, brings us all back into the very stuff of legend.

“I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!”

Anke Eissmann imagines the first meeting between Aragorn and Eomer

So Tolkien deliberately mingles the stuff of legend with the stuff of ordinary life and invites his readers to make the same kind of choice that Aragorn demands of the Rohirrim. For Tolkien not only makes the Rohirrim the people who would have heard tales like that of Beowulf which would have been told in the halls of their lords in the early middle ages, but he also makes them a very modern people for whom a story like Beowulf that might be one that stirred them when they were young but which would have been consigned to the pleasant, but private, world of fantasy when they grew up. For real life with its duties can, for the modern person, only be lived with stuff that can be touched, smelt, heard, seen or tasted. The life of the imagination might give a moment of pleasure amidst the grim reality of ordinary life but it can never be regarded as real.

This division between that which is heroic and that which is ordinary is one that Aragorn suggests is false. When the rider who stands beside Eomer scoffs at Aragorn’s mention of halflings Aragorn’s response is not to the rider but to his Lord. The Rider dismisses the mention of halflings as “old songs and children’s tales out of the North”. And then he asks, “Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?”

“A man may do both,” said Aragorn. “For not we but those who come after will make the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!”

I say that Aragorn addresses Eomer because, as far as the Rider is concerned, Aragorn is simply speaking nonsense that does not deserve attention. He, and his fellows, are the spiritual kin of Cervantes’ Sancho Panza, the sensible though devoted servant of Don Quixote. While Don Quixote tilts at windmills Sancho Panza does all that he can to keep his master out of trouble. Modern readers side with the servant yet wish, secretly, that they could live in the lost enchanted world of the master. Aragorn argues that it is possible to do both as he presents himself as a representative of the world of legend amidst the world of the sensible.

As far as the Riders are concerned the strange creatures who have sprung from the grass are merely “wild men”, but Eomer heard the rhyme that Boromir spoke when he came to Edoras, the rhyme that spoke of halflings as well as the blade that was broken. Eomer knows that he needs to pay closer attention to Aragorn’s words even if he does not understand them. Perhaps there is more to what Aragorn is saying than mere tilting at windmills.

Eomer Prepares for a Good Death in Battle.

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After the fall of the Lord of the Nazgûl and the death of Théoden the battle upon the Pelennor Fields flows one way and then another. It is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth who leads a charge from the city to come to the aid of the Rohirrim, led now by Éomer, but even with their forces combined upon the field and with their great skill in battle upon horseback the sheer number of their foes is ultimately too great and Éomer prepares to make a final stand. For this he has been long prepared since first hearing the songs of his people in the halls of Théoden. His spiritual formation has been made there and he knows that what is expected of him is to make a good death with his face turned towards his foes and with his men about him. He plants his banner upon a hillock and laughs as he cries out,

“Out of doubt, out of dark to the day’s rising I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing. To hope’s end I rode and to heart’s breaking: Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall.”

And the song-makers will take the deeds of the day, the hewing of Forlong the Fat with axes as he fights on alone and unhorsed, and the trampling to death of Duilin of Morthond and his brother beneath the terrible feet of the mûmakil, and they will make them beautiful. Tears will flow as the great songs are sung once more and pride rekindled in the hearts of the people. The Rohirrim will know that they are a great people and boys will know, as they grow to manhood, that the worst thing that they could possibly do is to bring shame upon the memory of their ancestors. And so we recall once again the satisfaction that Théoden feels, even as life ebbs from his body, that he can face his forefathers without shame, that what has happened upon this terrible day can be spoken of with pride alongside the great deeds of the past.

It is a bad thing to rob someone of their pride. It is something that might be done by a mighty person who does not fear the power of their enemies, who seeks to display their own greatness by means of humiliation, but resentment will always lead to deeds of revenge and memories forged by bitterness are long. I like to think that the victors at the Pelennor Fields gave as much attention to enabling their foes to retain their pride as they did to winning the battle. It is a wise lord who knows how to make peace even as they must, in time of need, know how to make war.

There are some who in describing the times in which we live have named them an age of anger. They show how resentment, born of felt humiliation, is felt by growing numbers in a world in which a small number seek to gather as much power and wealth for themselves as possible at the expense of the rest of humankind. The powerful may for the time being be able to contain the angry by means of the security apparatus but we see that even the highest walls cannot keep all anger at bay. Our leaders and we whom they lead need to consider how we can allow those who regard themselves as our enemies to withdraw from conflict with pride. If we do not do this then we and our children may have to pay a great price for our pride and their humiliation.

Théoden Leads His Army into Battle.

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The Riders of Rohan reach the Pelennor Fields at last and look down upon the horror below them. “The king sat upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish or by dread. He seemed to shrink down, cowed by age.” Until this moment it has been possible to push the impossibility of what they must do to the back of their minds by attending to all of the essential tasks that a soldier must do. That possibility exists no longer. Théoden stares at his own annihilation, something that he shrank from through the years of Wormtongue’s whisperings, and for a moment he is the shrivelled old man in the darkness of his hall and of his mind. And then…

“Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!  Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter! spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered, a sword day, a red day, ere the sun rises! Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!”

And the old man is transformed and rides into battle like a god, “even as Oromë the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young”. And like Oromë the hunter he takes a horn and blows such a mighty blast upon it “that it burst asunder”. Théoden the godlike king rides with such might that he outruns even the swiftest of his army and as he rides the grass about Snowmane’s feet flames into green, the wind turns and blows fresh from the sea “and darkness was removed and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them.”

Tolkien takes the language of myth and of Old English song that had captured his heart when he was a young man in order to describe this scene in the story. Skilled story teller as he is he could have taken us into battle with the frightened Merry or the death-seeking Éowyn or the standard-bearer Guthláf trying desperately to keep up with his lord but he chooses the godlike king before whose face all creation is transformed, transfigured.

And what do we do as readers? Is it encumbered upon us as those who are disillusioned and disenchanted modernists to demystify or demythologise Tolkien’s language and to insist that we describe war as what it is, as foul and filthy, as a thing of horror? We could do so if we choose and what is more Tolkien could do so better than most of us for he saw war at first hand in the killing fields of Flanders in the First World War. But Tolkien chooses not to do this but to take us to a wholly different level of human experience. It is not that he has a nostalgic longing for medieval warfare which was just as foul and bloody as anything that we can invent today nor does he seek to promulgate what Wilfred Owen called, “the old lie”, that to die for one’s country is a sweet and proper thing. No, what Tolkien does is to take the human experience of the horror of war and to transform it. Note, please, that I have not said take the horror of war and transform it but to take the human experience of war and transform it. And in doing so he chooses not to reduce human beings in war to dumb animals in the slaughter house but to elevate them to gods. And he does it for just this paragraph only as the Rohirrim ride into battle giving us the briefest of glimpses into what we truly are. When we look across the page we return to the description of events, to one action after another. Both kinds of narrative are true and both are true together.

And we will end this week’s reflection with a final thought. When the hopelessly outnumbered Riders of Rohan ride into battle in defence of Minas Tirith they do so in the likelihood that they will die in the attempt. And yet they still ride on. Their plunge into the heart of darkness is godlike and one that was recognised in one of the oldest of English poems, The Dream of the Rood, a poem that likens the death of Christ upon the cross to the triumph of a mighty warrior in battle and so transformed the experience of the warrior forever.
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Merry Feels Useless as He Prepares for Battle

/ stephencwinter / 7 Comments

We are on the road with the Rohirrim passing through the Druadan forest and it is held against us by our enemies. We could engage them in battle and doubtless would prevail but there is no time for delay, not even a victorious one, because the hosts of Mordor are at the gates of Minas Tirith.

Théoden and his commanders are busy about the business of war and are in conference with the people of the Druadan wood, seeking a way to bring the riders past those who would prevent their passage but one among their number is lonely and unhappy.

We have seen Merry like this before, on more than one occasion. He carries a great burden with him, one that he does not seem to know how to cast away, and that is his sense of insignificance.

Elfhelm, the commander of the éored to which Dernhelm/Éowyn is attached, trips over Merry, hidden as he is by the elven cloak that he wears, and roundly curses the tree-roots.

“I am not a tree root, Sir,” Merry said, “nor a bag, but a bruised hobbit.”

Poor Merry! It was his desire to be of some use that brought him here but it is his sense of uselessness that afflicts him now that he is close to battle. He wishes “he was a tall rider like Éomer and could blow a horn or something and go galloping to his rescue.”

Ah, the blowing of horns and the business of galloping about. How many people are relieved to spend their time going from meeting to meeting, not because of the value of what each meeting can bring to the enterprise that they are meant to serve but because each meeting can fill the void that otherwise they would gaze over as each day’s work begins. When they take their place around the meeting table at least they do not have to justify their reason for being there.

Merry is there in disobedience to the king’s express command. What can we say to comfort him? Elfhelm does not try and Dernhelm keeps silent. And if they did speak there would be nothing that they could say. Soon as they look down upon the Pelennor Fields and the hosts of Mordor massed against them they will all feel afraid and they will all have to master their fear. Even Théoden will “sit upon Snowmane, motionless, gazing upon the agony of Minas Tirith, as if stricken suddenly by anguish, or by dread.”

And at that moment all that there will be for any to do will be to rush into the heart of battle. Only a few battle hardened veterans will know what it is that they must do when they meet the enemy, the rest will have to learn quickly or perish as they do so. And Merry will find himself confronting a foe so terrible that even if he had been a veteran of many battles and had won many victories, not one of them would be of any use to him. But we will have to wait until another time to think about that story.

So there is no comfort that we can give him now and if we were to tell him what he will face in the battle we might terrify him so much as to unman him completely. It is best not to think too much about what lies ahead. John Henry Newman puts it well in his beloved hymn, “Lead Kindly Light” and we will end this week’s reflection on The Lord of the Rings with his words. Newman was a priest at the Birmingham Oratory whose clergy raised Tolkien after his mother’s death and so I would imagine that he knew this hymn very well.

“Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom; lead thou me on! The night is long and I am far from home; lead thou me on! Keep thou my feet; I do not ask to see the distant scene- one step enough for me.”

Anyone who has walked in real darkness will know one step is all that you can take at any point. Faith tells you that it is all you need. It is enough.