“I am a Hobbit and No More Valiant Than I am a Man, Save Perhaps Now and Again By Necessity.” Pippin Declares Himself to The Guard at The Walls of The Pelennor.

The Return of the King by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991) pp. 732-733

In an unsafe world in which the arrival of strangers might mean the coming of threat and danger it is necessary that those strangers should declare themselves to the guards. So we remember Aragorn first declaring himself to Éomer in the fields of Rohan and then to Hama at the doors of Meduseld and how it was on these occasions that he first announced his mighty lineage. When times are urgent and haste is required then the bearer of a name has no time for modesty if that one is not to suffer let or hindrance.

When Gandalf comes to the defences of the Pelennor Fields he has no need to declare himself to the guards as they rebuild its walls. They know him and know that he has the favour of the Lord of Minas Tirith. But who is the small creature who sleeps before him upon Shadowfax?

At first Gandalf speaks for his companion.

“His name is Peregrin, a very valiant man.”

Why does Gandalf speak of Pippin in terms like this? We have accompanied Pippin on his journey from the Shire all the way to this moment, from the time when his journey was no more dangerous than a walking holiday to his arrival at Minas Tirith in time of war. We recall Gandalf’s anger in the guard room in Moria when Pippin dropped a stone into the well so that he could find out how deep it was.

“Fool of a Took!”

That was what he thought of the young hobbit then. And we remember his anger when he caught Pippin looking into the Stone of Orthanc. Yet now he declares Pippin a mighty warrior to Ingold and his men. Is he simply trying to speed his journey or merely flattering his young companion?

I would argue that Gandalf does neither, that he is doing the same before Ingold and his men as Aragorn did before Éomer and Hama. He is announcing Pippin before the men of Gondor, declaring him to be a worthy addition to their number. A mighty man of arms in whose faith and help his fellows can trust.

“He has passed through more battles and perils than you have, Ingold, though you be twice his height; and he comes now from the storming of Isengard”.

Pippin is not the same hobbit who began the journey in the Shire, nor even the one who could not help taking a look into the Stone of Orthanc. He has passed through his initiation, both when he seized his chance “with both hands”, as Gimli spoke approvingly of the moment when he used a fallen orc blade to cut his bonds when he was the prisoner of the Uruk-hai of Isengard; but also in the way he has dealt with the humiliation he suffered through the incident with the palantir. He neither indulges in self-pity nor in self-congratulation. He knows that he was foolish to look into the Stone and he was fortunate that Sauron did not choose to interrogate him further at the time.

So he shows in the manner with which he announces himself.

“I am a hobbit and no more valiant than I am a man, save perhaps now and again by necessity.”

He has an appropriate pride in himself. He is a hobbit and he feels no need either to boast or apologise for this. He simply looks Ingold in the eye as Aragorn did with Éomer and says, this is who I am. And as for being valiant he declares to him that if he is ever brave it is only when he needs to be. Ingold and his men honour the manner in which he has spoken to them. That he has looked them in the eye, face to face, neither with arrogance or shame.

“Fare you well! ” said Ingold; and the men made way for Shadowfax, and he passed through a narrow gate in the wall. “May you bring good counsel to Denethor in his need, and to us all, Mithrandir!”

“This Assuredly is The Stone of Orthanc From The Treasury of Elendil.” Some Thoughts About Palantíri and Other Communication Devices.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991, 2007) pp. 775-784

We live in a world now in which there are so many communication devices that the palantír into which Pippin looked and in which he saw the Dark Lord himself might not seem so remarkable. And yet it is not so long ago when much of the world was not connected as it is now and the speed at which the world has changed has been so rapid that we have hardly had the time to think about all that has happened to us.

As a young man I taught in a school in Zambia, Central Africa, for six years in which there was only one phone and that was located in the headmaster’s house. I used that phone on only one occasion throughout the entire time that I was there. I now look back on that time as being a time of peace in which in order to communicate with someone I either had to go to see them or to write a letter.

But I also remember a conversation with a young Somali woman some years later who was in the UK for development studies. She spoke of her dream for her people and as I listened I became aware that this was an occasion for treading softly. She spoke of how she imagined every group of wandering herdsmen among her people possessing a communication device and how, as they sat around their campfires at night they could speak to each other, telling of where there was good pasture for their animals or of dangers to avoid. As she spoke my heart was carried out to the beauty of the African night and the soft beauty of African languages that I had heard there. Words spoken quietly in the still of the night under glittering starlight and the air feels like silk upon your face.

We can see why Elendil would have wanted the capacity to communicate in this way across his kingdoms in Middle-earth although how these seeing stones, created by Fëanor himself in the depths of time, came to be in his possession and not in the hands of the kings of Númenor I cannot tell. There were three stones in Gondor and three in Arnor and one in Orthanc, a fortress that in the early years of the two kingdoms linked them both. In an age in which a message sent from Osgiliath in Gondor to Annúminas in Arnor would have taken weeks even upon upon the swiftest horses such devices would have been of great value.

But in the years of the decline of Arnor all its stones were lost. One remained in Minas Tirith in Gondor although at this point in the story as Gandalf rides there with Pippin upon Shadowfax we do not know about its existence. Gandalf tells Pippin that the stone that Sauron possesses came from Minas Ithil, the tower of the moon, that is now the city of the Lord of the Nazgûl, Minas Morgul, and an evil place. And there was still the stone of Orthanc that is now in the possession of Aragon, Elendil’s heir, and to whom it rightfully belongs.

There is a mystery about the stones that Fëanor made so long ago that is conveyed in the stars that shone when Pippin first looked into it and the swirling images that cleared when at the last the Dark Lord came himself. And we are left with two questions. Is a palantír simply a communication device such as the ones that we all carry as a matter of course, or are our devices more mysterious than we usually think? Perhaps the answer is yes to both questions. Yes, perhaps the Stone of Orthanc is nothing more than the devices that we carry about with us all the time, and yes, our devices have something more of a palantír about them than we usually recognise.

It is easy for us to see in the palantíri of The Lord of the Rings a spiritual power at work, a battle between the wills of those who look into them, a battle in which it is wise not to regard one’s own power too highly, as Saruman did. Gandalf is relieved that he was saved from a battle of wills with Sauron by Pippin’s foolish act. But we have become so used to the devices that we carry that we are not aware of their spiritual nature and so, like Saruman, we look into them, confident in our own ability to deal with all that we see there, unaware that other wills are at work as well as our own. Unaware, perhaps, until we are trapped by them and we are enslaved to the will of others, whose power is so much greater than ours.

“He Has a Mind of Metal and Wheels; and He Does Not Care For Growing Things”. Treebeard Speaks of The Treason of Saruman.

The Two Towers by J.R.R Tolkien (Harper Collins 1991,2007) pp.611-617

The home that Treebeard has shown to Merry and Pippin is the fruit of exquisite patience. We might almost say the patience of Nature herself except, as we saw Treebeard speak of the hill upon which he first met the young hobbits, it had only stood there since that part of the world was shaped. There was a history before that moment too.

So, as I wrote last week, the Wellinghall that Treebeard shows to the young hobbits has been a careful crafting of earth, water, growing things and light over many years. It has as much in common with an art installation as it does a dwelling place and, although it has been ages in its making, if Treebeard had brought Merry and Pippin to it just a few days later it would be different. The spring that wells up from beneath the earth would have shaped it in a new way and as the year moved onwards into springtime so the rising of the sap within the trees that are the walls of Wellinghall would subtly transform them and would fill the air with a delicious aroma.

But Saruman is a different matter altogether.

“I think that I now understand what he is up to. He is plotting to become a Power. He has a mind of metal and wheels; and he does not care for living things, except as far as they serve him for the moment.”

One could hardly find a greater contrast between any two beings than between the minds of these two neighbours. If Treebeard has lovingly worked with Nature for long ages of time both in the making of his home and in his work as a shepherd of the trees Saruman is impatient both with Nature herself and with all living things. As Treebeard puts it, in the mind of Saruman the one needful thing is that it must “serve him for the moment”; and it is worth noting that phrase, for the moment, for as W.H Auden spoke of factory workers, all are “put to temporary use”. Robots are taking the place of those who work in factories and doubtless if Saruman had lived long enough he would have replaced his specially bred orcs, the Uruk-hai, with robots. It might be that his orcs can withstand the sun in a way that other orcs cannot, but eventually it will be possible to create a robot that will be able far to outlast even the strongest orc. And whereas Saruman could not be completely confident about the obedience of his Uruk-hai he need never have any anxiety about robots. The temporary usefulness of any creature that serves him for the moment would have come to an end. And we might even add that the quality of malice which he required in his servants, which was so useful to him, but which required constant attention as with Uglúk’s need to keep reminding his troops that the prisoners were not to be harmed, could be programmed into a robot in a completely reliable manner.

Saruman’s impatient “mind of metal and wheels” is about to be put to the test by the shepherds of trees and by their Huorns, trees that are growing in awareness and becoming more like their shepherds as Treebeard put it. And when it is tested in this manner it will be his impatience that will be his undoing. His anxiety to defeat Rohan quickly will lead him to empty his fortress of Isengard not fearing any enemy nearer by; his weaponry will not be sufficient to drive away either Ents or Huorns; and whereas the Tower of Orthanc, rising out of the very bones of the earth itself and built by Númenorians at the very height of their powers, cannot be assailed by Ents, the walls of Isengard are a fragile thing and easily overthrown.

Perhaps all lovers of “living things” should be grateful for Saruman’s impatience. If he or any like him were able to wait long enough then life itself might be abolished. The Ring of Power is, of course, the ultimate expression of a mind of metal and wheels, a mind that is a machine, at least for that age of Arda. In our own age the principle that made the Rings of Power is at work in new ways and perhaps with even greater effectiveness.

Aragorn or Sauron, Who is Lord of the Palantir?

The day after the Grey Company overtake Théoden and his escort and deliver their messages to Aragorn, he emerges from a chamber in the Hornburg with Halbarad, the sons of Elrond, and Legolas and Gimli. Merry gazes at him in shock. It is “as if in one night many years had fallen on his head. Grim was his face, grey-hued and weary.”

Later Aragorn tells them that he has looked into the Stone of Orthanc and that there he has confronted Sauron himself. Gimli is horrified, remembering what had happened to Pippin when he looked into it and perhaps thinking, too, of Saruman and how he had been corrupted by Sauron and turned traitor.

“‘You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry!’ exclaimed Gimli with fear and astonishment in his face. ‘Did you say aught to – him? Even Gandalf feared that encounter.'”

The implication in what Gimli says is that Aragorn has no more business looking into this tool of the Dark Lord’s than Pippin. Aragorn’s response is almost frightening.

“You forget to whom you speak… What do you fear that I should say to him? Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of Edoras?”

But Gimli has forgotten. The travel stained warrior with whom he has gone through so much is the heir of Isildur and Elendil. He rightfully bears Andúril, Narsil, the sword that cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand, reforged. He is the heir of Eärendil, the Morning Star, who brought aid to the defeated peoples of Middle-earth when it seemed that Morgoth and his lieutenant, Sauron, had triumphed. And he is heir to Beren and to Lúthien who took a Silmaril from the iron crown of Morgoth. He is  “the lawful master of the Stone and has “both the right and the strength to use it.”

It is essential here to understand that Aragorn is not trying to present himself as one who has gained some kind of extra special bragging rights. There is no, “Look at me, everyone!” going on here. This is what it means to respond to a calling. George, Duke of York, was gripped by fear as he approached a coronation that he never expected before his brother, Edward VIII, abdicated. The fear was connected to the terrible stammer from which he suffered, a story told in the film, The King’s Speech.  Later he was to describe how, when the Archbishop of Canterbury anointed him, a strength came into him and he left Westminster Abbey a different man. He was King George VI. He continued to struggle with many fears and there is a particularly poignant story of a day when he was to meet British troops in North Africa and had almost to be dragged from his tent because once again the fear had overcome him. When I first heard this story my love and admiration for him deepened, knowing the inner fears that he had to overcome, almost daily, in order to fulfil his duty to his people. The struggle ultimately brought him to an early death when in his 50s. Strength is given to fulfil a calling but a price has to be paid as well. This is rarely understood by those who seek power.

That is why Aragorn overcomes Sauron in the struggle for ownership of the Stone of Orthanc, just. He is its true lord and yet he recognises that he is the servant of a destiny that is far greater than he is. Thomas Merton put this tension wonderfully in his book, No Man is an Island. 

“Our Christian destiny is, in fact, a great one: but we cannot achieve greatness unless we lose all interest in being great. For our own idea of greatness is illusory, and if we pay too much attention to it we will be lured out of the peace and stability of the being God gave us, and we will seek to live in a myth we have created for ourselves. And when we are truly ourselves we lose most the futile self-consciousness that keeps us constantly comparing ourselves with others to see how big we are.”

It is not Aragorn but Sauron who lives in a self-created myth and that is why he loses this struggle but, as Gimli puts it, “he wields great dominion, nonetheless.” Aragorn’s challenge will bring forth a terrible response.