"A Knife in the Dark" - Eric's Thoughts

I have to disagree with Jacob on this early scene in this chapter—the scene where the black riders knock down Fatty Bolger’s door. Jacob argues that this makes the black riders more menacing. Personally though, I think it would have been just as menacing to have the hobbits wake up to slashed bedsheets in the other room, which is exactly Tolkien did. Additionally, the Black Rider point of view (“Let the little people blow! Sauron will deal with them later.”) is anything but menacing. The voice of the black riders sounds like more of a fun Tolkien voice from the Hobbit than sinister and evil.

Additionally, the opening of this chapter draws out a weakness that we critiqued at length previously. Earlier in our reviews, we critiqued the pointlessness of Fatty Bolger, and as we rightly remembered, Fatty made a reappearance in this chapter, running away from black riders, only to faint on someone’s doorstep saying that he hasn’t got it (i.e. the Ring). *Sigh*. Fatty Bolger does it again by proving himself to be a pointless character. Indeed, one might say that Fatty is only dead weight in this story. You might even say that he doesn’t quite carry his own weight, in a manner of speaking. You might even say that can’t quite keep up to stride and . . . okay, I’m done making corpulent jokes.

The chapter then transitions to Frodo, and how the Black Riders have stolen the ponies. Fortunately, this means that the hobbits can have breakfast, as Merry points out good-naturedly. (Plus Merry says, “Let’s get hold of Nob!”) Any scene that references Nob is a good scene. After all, it was Nob that bravely scared away the Black Riders in the Prancing Pony chapter. Perhaps Nob is the real hero of these middling chapters? Mr. Tolkien, my only complaint about this Nob character is that we didn't get to spend more time with him!

Something else that’s interesting is that Butterbur pays for the hobbits’ lost ponies, being an “honest man.” But why is Butterbur suddenly responsible for the hobbits’ ponies? The hobbits were the ones that drew the black riders into Bree. This kind of strikes me as unjust that Butterbur is paying. In any event, clearly Butterbur needed to hang up a sign in his stables stating that he assumes no responsibility for lost or stolen ponies, and that guests use the stables at their own risk. In this vein, the paragraphs discussing what happened to the ponies and how Butterbur ended up doing alright out of the deal is another cut.

Jacob is completely right to point out that the difference between this chapter, when they are entering the wild, and this chapter, is that the riders are starting to act serious and attack. Additionally, I think the other difference is that Strider is here, which while also 200% more competent than the hobbits, is also 200% more interesting. Plus flies and midges (in the quagmire scene) pose nasty threats that stimulate a reader’s attention. There’s also the possibility that Strider is not who he says he is, though to an experienced reader this obviously poses no threat.

It’s bizarre that Strider is making towards Weathertop when he states that the Black Riders are likely to make for it as well, as it “commands a large view” of the surrounding countryside. Weighing the odds of finding Gandalf (which Strider admits is “faint”) against the danger of running into Black Riders, this seems like a big mistake. Naturally the reader knows this, safe at home. But still, Strider, come on. Use some better judgment. You’re like 80 years old, son.

Maybe I shouldn’t admit this, but every time I see a poem I skip those pages. Skipping the poems certainly gives me a good feeling of progress. Maybe that’s why Tolkien included them. I’m sensing this chapter is Ben bait, with the history and references to the Silmarils. Although I read the Similarion long ago, Ben will undoubtedly provide much more insight.

The chapter ends with Frodo getting stabbed. Undoubtedly a great scene: this is why people read Lord of the Rings. Frodo putting on the ring was the best thing that could have happened from a reader’s point of view: we momentarily get to see the riders described—essentially as old walking corpses, though Tolkien doesn’t say it outright. 

Overall the chapter was a fun read. What I’m wondering right now was how to integrate the strength of the riders, as Jacob points out the fact that the riders’ broke down the door in two knocks shows unnatural strength, while also cutting those earlier scenes involving Fatty.  But I still think this particular detail isn’t necessary. Upturned bedsheets and a splintered door hanging by one latch would have also showed that the Riders are capable and strong. 

What really made the difference, I think, between this chapter and those slogging chapters is Strider. Strider has interesting insights, and says far more intriguing things than Pippin complaining about a lack of second breakfast. Note that in the earlier chapters the hobbits were pursued (although I admit not as directly, and the threat of the riders is still somewhat unknown), yet those chapters were boring. So it just goes to show how important good characters are in maintaining a reader’s attention, and how a single character can completely change a scene dynamic, and make things much more pleasurable for the reader.

"A Knife In The Dark" - Jacob's Thoughts

It feels like an absolute crime to stop right on this cliff hanger, especially since we're so close to the end of Book 1; nevertheless there is already too much to talk about in just this chapter, so restrain myself I must.

Frankly, this chapter doesn't feel like it should work at all, what with all the needless, extraneous detail about how the alarm went off and the horses were let loose and they were going to get an early start but instead got to eat a big breakfast anyways (whew, I guess!) while they tracked down a replacement carrier-pony that they didn't get a good deal on but don't worry cause Fatty McInnkeeper (bless his soul) ended up getting a good deal out of it that somehow involved Tom Bombadil in some typically useless way much later, and then they were on the main road then they weren't and they were in yet another Old Forest of sorts, and there was yet another excruciatingly long poem, with a bunch of dense pseudo-historical context and name dropping from Strider that didn't actually clarify anything and also there were birds and foxes, I guess?

Basically, this chapter could have very easily been Old Forest redux, dreadfully boring and pedantic and excisable.  But apparently somewhere between chapters 6 and 12 Tolkien really hit his stride, because "A Knife In The Dark" was genuinely gripping and exciting.  What changed?

It's the Black Riders, isn't it.

For this chapter starts with them bona fide smashing down a door in only two tries, then violently trashing the place, before scattering at the town alarm.  Up till then, the Black Riders' menace had only been in their general, vague creepiness; their threat was only implied.  Seeing them engage in actual physical violence ups the ante, and confirms that they are a real, ruthless danger.

The temptation here might be, now that you've revealed the violence of your enemy, to just let them go on warpath, spreading carnage and mayhem wherever they go.  And indeed, there is something almost Terminator-esque about the Black Riders, in their inhumanity, implacability, indestructibility, as they systematically and machine-like explore every possible trail the hobbits could have traveled, methodically eliminating every Sarah Connor in the phone book so to speak, weaving their web till they inevitably find them.

That's the word I'm looking for, inevitable: there is just this inevitability about them, that you can run but not hide, and not even run that long!  As Kyle Reese says in the first Terminator: "It can't be bargained with. It can't be reasoned with. It doesn't feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead!"  The same could be said of the Black Riders.

Yet Tolkien does not elect to go the rampaging Terminator route, perhaps intuitively understanding that now that their violent potential has been revealed, returning them to the shadows makes them even more menacing than ever.  As such, while Strider and the hobbits travel, it's only in sly allusion that the terrible threat of the Black Riders is hinted at, as when Frodo jokes about how all this travel is thinning him down:

"'I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith.'
'Do not speak of such things!' said Strider quickly, and with surprising earnestness."

Or later, when Pippin hear's tell of their ultimate destination:

"'Going to Mordor!' cried Pippin, 'I hope it won't come to that!'
'Do not speak that name so loudly!' said Strider."

In each of these instances, it is Strider alone who appears to be fully cognizant of the horrors that hunt them.  We've only barely met Strider, but, to paraphrase Ben, he is clearly 200% more competent than all the hobbits combined, and we can already tell he is a deeply experienced traveler and fighter; we know that he has seen, heard, and experienced things that the others can scarcely imagine, and thus not much can frighten him.  Hence, if he can barely stand to hear about "wraiths" and "Mordor" (especially after quoting it so brazenly in the Prancing Pony), then we know there must be something awful about the pursuing Riders.  Our imagination is thus allowed to make them just that more terrifying.

The real danger here then--narratively, I mean--is that actually revealing the Black Riders, to see them as they actually are, is tantamount to revealing the scary monster as just a stuntman in a plastic suit with an obvious zipper, a total let-down.  Tolkien's choice to actually show the Black Riders, to see what Frodo sees when he puts on the Ring, was frankly a gutsy move.

And I think it pays off.  It speaks well of Tolkien that the true form of the Black Riders is more uncanny and unsettling--and therefore frightening--than whatever blood-thirsty monster most our imaginations conjured up on our own:

"Immediately, though everything else remained as before, dim and dark, the shapes became terribly clear. He was able to see beneath their black wrappings.  There were five tall figures: two standing on the lip of the dell, three advancing.  In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes; under their mantles were long grey robes; upon their grey hairs were helms of silver; in their haggard hands were swords of steel."

There's just something almost...frail...about the Black Riders...Tolkien doesn't call them walking corpses, cause he doesn't have to.  If they weren't already dead, they'd be in  nursing homes.  They are clearly consumed by a power without which they couldn't even stand on their own, which again, renders them that more unnerving.  In a perverse sort of way, I think it's similar to how evil children (e.g. Children of the Corn, that one Twilight Zone episode, etc) are creepy too--something about seeing what should be the most vulnerable members of our society (kids, the elderly) being suddenly over-powering--and sans any of the love or tenderness normally associated with them--makes them uncanny.

A word on uncanny, since I used it earlier: Freud said it means literally "un-house-like," or "un-homey."  It is the opposite of feeling cozy, comfortable, settled in your little hobbit hole.  That is, something needs to feel in a strange way like it doesn't belong there at all, as though it upsets your sense of belonging in this world just by its presence.  For another reason why I think the Black Riders work so well is in just how uncanny they are.  Consider Strider's explanation of how the Black Riders perceive the world:

"They themselves do not see the world of light as we do, but our shapes cast shadows in their minds, which only the noon sun destroys; and in the dark they perceive many signs and forms that are hidden from us: then they are most to be feared.  And at all times they smell the blood of living things, desiring and hating it.  Senses, too, there are other than sight or smell.  We can feel their presence--it troubled our hearts, as soon as we came here, and before we saw them; they feel ours more keenly.  Also...the Ring draws them" (emphasis added).

Our intrepid heroes can just feel something wrong about the Riders; they are uncanny, they "troubled our hearts", before we ever even saw them we knew something was off, something was wrong.  And now, what's even more terrifying: to them, we are uncanny too!  They feel that we don't belong here--and not just us, but all living things!  They desire our blood and hate it, too!  Sauron and his agents are unsettled by the mere presence of living life, and so they seek not just to dominate it, but destroy it.  Suddenly that clarifies of all of what's at stake in this frightening war.

And the first life we see them attack is dear Frodo himself--and after all these chapters of them circling around, closing in, like sharks sniffing after blood, like Terminators working down the phone book, the inevitability comes at last to a head, and they "bore down" on our protagonist and drive into him a literal knife in the dark, as the chapter title promised.

And yet, once more, as dark as the darkness may be, as much as their darkness can look like "black holes" compared with the pitch blackness of night itself...the light is still stronger!  For Strider, who now reveals the full extent of his hyper-competence, even after he's betrayed how absolutely terrified he is of these Riders, still attacks them and drives them away with but the flames of the camp fire.

But more than literal light drives these Black Riders away: at the climactic moment, Frodo cries out, "O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!"  This prayer of sorts, this incantation (I'm sure Ben can fill us in far better as to the full portent of these words), I do believe somehow helps drives these demons away.  Remember how Strider cautioned the hobbits earlier against speaking dark words like "wraith" and "Mordor," even refusing to tell a particular story in such a dark place; well, apparently there are light words too, bright ones even, that can pierce even the darkest darkness of the night.

But now I'm in danger of getting ahead of myself!  I must wait till next week to post my thoughts on the exciting conclusion of this episode, which is when I also plan to give my thoughts about Book 1 in total.  Until then, I think I can safely say that after the slow start--and particularly the Tom Bombadil trilogy--these last few chapters have covered a multitude of sins.

"Strider" - Eric's Thoughts

I thought to myself before reading: a chapter called Strider is probably going to be about Strider. Unremarkably, this proved to be accurate. This chapter is about Strider trying to tempt the hobbits to trust him, especially suspicious Sam.

First off, I’d like to go back to Gandalf’s blunder that my compatriots were so quick to defend. They argued that Gandalf provided a letter to Butterbur, and so that showed that the old wizard didn’t make any blunder of the sort.

Wrong.

As Gandalf himself recognizes in a P.S.S., there is a distinct possibility that because Butterbur is an absent-minded fool (though he means well), there is a chance the letter won’t reach Frodo. If I remember right, the reason Gandalf left was to inform Saruman about the ring. Gandalf is already suspicious at this point that Frodo may be hunted.

So essentially Gandalf’s choices include: (1) personally informing Frodo before leaving, which would only delay him (at maximum) a few days by using the main road on horseback (no Old Forest roundabouts); (2) go straight to Saruman and tell him about the ring and trust that a letter sent by an absent-minded innkeeper reaches him -- AND also fail to inform Strider to help the hobbits.

Gandalf chose the second option. For a lesser god, he seems remarkably absent of insight, or maybe lesser gods aren’t the brightest people. With stakes being high enough with the Ring (Sauron's agents getting it = game over), you would think . . . Ah, well, what do I know? Of course, compared to Pippin, he’s a genius, so I guess it’s all relative.

Sam is beginning to come into character again, and I particularly liked it when he told Strider to shove it, and advised Frodo not to trust him. That was a nice touch. Of course, this runs inconsistent with some of his earlier characterizations, but it seems like the hobbits are finally beginning to materialize in and be more consistent with character. (Though I will point out a single hobbit has yet to be described. Butterbur did indirectly describe Frodo as fat and having red cheeks, so maybe that finally counts?)

Okay, now that I’ve rambled for a few paragraphs, let’s go back to what this chapter is really about: Strider. He’s trying to convince the hobbits to trust him, and he tells Frodo that “I really just wanted you guys to trust me on my own merits. You see, if I had mentioned Gandalf, that would be like cheating. I just wanted you to think I’m nice by my own personality without resorting to the ‘G’ word.”

That seemed a little weird. It almost felt like Strider just wanted to be loved, which is not something I would think of a hardened ranger, whose peoples’ mottos are: we’re weird and dangerous, get over it. Indeed, why not just mention Gandalf? Strider mentions that the hobbits might not have believed him anyway, but certainly mentioning that Gandalf sent him wouldn’t have hurt. Strider’s response that he wanted the hobbits to believe him on his own merits just doesn’t make any sense.

The confrontation between Butterbur and Strider was one of the best in the scene, when Butterbur calls Strider a weirdo and creepy, and Strider just name-calls Butterbur back. Strider doesn't mess around. He tells Butterbur: Hey, guess where the riders are from, innkeeper? Mordor. That sound familiar? Now shut up, you fat fool. A great line.

But don’t forget about Merry. Meanwhile Merry has been sauntering about looking for the Black Riders. Unfortunately, he finds the Riders, and they knock him out with a drug called the Black Breath (which is probably similar to the droopy eyelids I was experiencing while reading The Old Forest, The House of Tom Bombadil, and Fog on the Barrow Downs).

And good old Nob saves the day—Merry falls quickly to the Black Breath, but Nob shows up and yells at the Black Riders. So naturally the Black Riders must flee from this fearsome hobbit (we can assume Nob looks fearsome because he’s never been described), instead of “Black Breathing” him too.

"Strider" - Ben's Thoughts

"Fellowship" Book 1 kicks into high gear with this chapter. Aragorn has officially arrived, and he's managed to shake things up for our Hobbits. Finally, someone to talk some sense into them. I understand Jacob's point that Strider manages to underscore my complaints about the Hobbits' stupidity to this point in "avoiding" the Black Riders, and that the reader's frustration was probably Tolkien's intent, but Frodo & Co. still make me want to shake some sense into them. Fortunately Strider is here to do the job for me.

Right from the outset -- Strider's sudden and unaccountable appearance in the Hobbits' room -- Strider comes across as about 200% more competent than these silly Hobbits. He manages to put them entirely off balance by just saying a few simple sentences (except for, possibly, Pippin, who to this point has an off-putting "whatever, man" attitude about this whole trip). The really lovely thing about this initial introduction of our favorite mysterious Ranger is just how much personality he has. He snarks off to the Hobbits, insults them, but also expresses his sincere desire to help them. Far from your typical stoic fantasy hero or sour, angsty "Savior of the World" type from modern grimdark fantasy, Aragorn is lively and interesting, exhibiting an interesting mix of world-weariness, grim humor, and overwhelming self-confidence. Look there -- Tolkien managed to characterize Aragorn better in one chapter than he has for Merry and Pippin (and practically the other two Hobbits as well) in the entire rest of the book!

What is interesting to me with this picture of Strider's confidence and charisma is how different I remember him being from the distant, cold, and lordly Aragorn of Book 3 especially. I know it's that whole "responsibility" thing that he assumes as heir apparent of the kingdoms of Men, but I think I like him better this way. We'll see if my prediction -- that Aragorn is much more boring and remote as god-king in "Return of the King" than he is here as a scruffy Ranger -- pans out as I expect. If it does, I see it thusly: the Ranger is who Strider really is. He's a wanderer -- a leader, yes, but a wanderer all the same, not tied down to one kingdom or people, but adventuring hither and yon to champion the cause of justice. How heroic! Makes me wonder what kind of a king he would actually be. I know Tolkien believes in the do-no-wrong variety of prophesized hereditary kings, but it seems like he would be a far better wanderer than ruler (a la Robert Baratheon in Game of Thrones -- a far better warrior than monarch).

Along those same lines, did anyone know that Strider was originally conceived of as a Hobbit himself? Yes, "Strider" was once named "Trotter," and was a overly-tall Hobbit who helps the gang (Frodo was named "Bingo" in this early draft of LOTR) get to Rivendell. Perhaps all this personality is just "Trotter" carrying over. It's interesting to think that Tolkien didn't originally conceive of LOTR as an epic about (at least in part) a king trying to reclaim his kingdom. How different it would be without Aragorn. His quest is one of two main narrative threads going forward, and one that (in my mind) almost engulfs the far more important "Ring" quest in later books.

Now a few examples of just how awesome Strider is. I almost laughed out loud when Frodo was babbling on to Butturbur about the identity and origin of the Black Riders, and Strider just cuts through all the crap: "They come from Mordor." No time for beating around the bush. And what about this speech about why the Hobbits need him:

"'You may escape from Bree, and be allowed to go forward while the Sun is up; but you won't go far. They will come on you in the wild, in some dark place where there is no help. Do you wish them to find you? They are terrible!'"

Gives me the shivers. Finally, a nice Hobbit-slam: "'It would take more than a few days, or weeks, or years, of wandering in the Wild to make you look like Strider . . . And you would die first, unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look to be.'" Burn!

Now to address the narrative. I had remembered that the Hobbits received a letter from Gandalf c/o Butturbur in this chapter, but I forgot that the reason that Frodo didn't receive it earlier was because Butturbur had forgotten to send someone to the Shire with it. That's awfully convenient. While I was reading the letter, I found myself wondering whether it was necessary from a narrative standpoint at all. It does give Butturbur something to do, and I agree with Eric that he is a fun and memorable character (the first of all the stout innkeepers populating every fantasy novel ever!), but wouldn't the tension have been increased if the Hobbits hadn't received a letter and were left in the dark about whether Strider had their best interests at heart? Butturbur's counsel to leave Strider out of it might have borne more weight, then.

I agree with Jacob, though, that Aragorn's poem is lovely. This is what a poem should look like -- short, powerful, and memorable. Without the letter, the poem would have had to wait until Rivendell. It's nice to get a little foreshadowing of the arc Aragorn will take in later books.

On the Black Riders: Aragorn says that "their power is terror," and that they would not dare assault the inn directly, relegating them to more of an existential threat even at this advanced stage. If I'm remembering correctly, they remain that way throughout all of this book -- Aragorn is able to drive them away in the next chapter with a torch, and the same happens in the next book when they confront the raging fords after Frodo safely crosses. It makes them both less and more sinister, which is, I imagine, what Tolkien was aiming at. They were never meant to represent a physical threat. It's too bad that our cultural understanding of the Nazgûl is now irrevocably colored by Jackson's trilogy.

I did have one question, though, about their MO: If Merry is bewitched by the Riders when he is exploring outside the inn, and they are about to whisk him away, why would they do so if they knew (presumably, by the point that they were standing directly over him) that he didn't have the Ring? And why would they stop and leave him when Nob shouts? Who cares about Nob? What's he going to do?

It would be remiss of me to end my commentary without noting that Frodo finally, FINALLY gets a bit of physical description in this chapter. Apparently he is "'[A] stout little fellow with red cheeks. . . . taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye.'" That… is not terribly helpful, actually. I guess I'll take it. Merry and Pippin are still non-entities.

Onward into the Wild!

"At the Sign of the Prancing Pony" - Eric's Thoughts

Okay, so now after three chapters of writing scathing reviews, it looks like I have to go back to giving compliments. The chapter was a fun read.

Now, the beginning was really dry, with all of the geography and historical descriptions. Proably better to put all that in an appendix. I think describing the actual town was good, with its stone houses, and describing the Prancing Pony was fine too, and a good choice. But strangely enough the hobbits themselves have never been described. Nor did I see any description for Nob or Bob.

Early in the chapter, after the gatekeeper scene, there’s a jarring point of a view switch where suddenly the narrative is no longer covering Frodo, but is omniscient viewpoint of the gate itself. Tolkien writes:

“As soon as [the gatekeeper’s] back was turned, a dark figure climbed quickly in over the gate and melted into the shadows of the village street.”

Obviously this foreshadows that the black riders are in Bree, but a paragraph break would have been really helpful in letting the reader know about a different point of view.

Going back to the inn scene, I still remember Nob after all of these years. Good old Bob. Nob and Bob. (Oin and Gloin, cough cough). And Barliman Butterbur too, what a great name. I remember his absent mindedness as well, which though cliché, for some reason this innkeeper in particular stuck with me.

Nob states, about his role as a servant, “It’s hard work for two legs, but I don’t get thinner.” Interesting to compare this to Shire ideals, where fatter is sexier. Here in Bree it seems beauty is correlated more with skinniness, as Nob seems to suggest that he wants to get thinner.

The best parts of course are the Strider interaction and the accidently slip the ring on at the table scene. Strider blames Frodo for being an idiot, but it may be the ring itself betrayed Frodo, showing that even the best-laid plans could go amiss. I think Frodo was right to try and shut Pippin up, but better yet they should have just stayed in their rooms.

Of course, then they may not have met Strider, though it seems that Strider was aware of the ring and Frodo Baggins, so I think Strider would have found them anyway. Long story short, the hobbits never have seemed very bright so far. Even Merry, who cautions them before they go into the common room, decides to take a stroll when black riders may be about.

All of this goes back to Gandalf’s blunder. Certainly I can understand to some degree the hobbits incompetence—they are inexperienced adventures who don’t really know yet what they’re up against, besides Gildor’s warning. But Gandalf, he should have known about this, and he should have sent Frodo packing much sooner than he did. Wasn’t the language of Mordor on a golden ring enough? The stupidity of the wise old wizard still astounds me. All of this could have been easily avoided, but then I guess we wouldn’t have a story then, would we?

"Fog on the Barrow-Downs" - Eric's Thoughts

Tolkien describes:

“As they went down the mist became colder and damper, and their hair hung lank and dripping on their foreheads. When they reached the bottom it was so chill that they halted and got out cloaks and hoods, which soon became bedewed with grey drops.”

An alternate and better name for this chapter probably would have been “What it’s like to live in England.”

So after the hobbits wake up and realize its foggy, things go pretty bad. All of the hobbits, excluding Frodo, disappear to chilling screams. "Help!" "Save me!" "No! Not the [plot-spoiler redacted]." Soon Frodo is left alone. The question I was wondering at this point is: is this reminiscent of Mirkwood forest or what?

Some good descriptions follow: “The wind began to hiss over the grass.” And “[Frodo’s] breath was smoking, and the darkness was less near and thick.”

Anyway, Frodo is all alone, surrounded by fog. Oh no! What’s going to happen next? Yep, you guessed it. Barrow-wights.

“Trembling [Frodo] looked up, in time to see a tall dark figure like a shadow against the stars. It leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a pale light that seemed to come from some remote distance. Then a grip stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and he remembered no more.”

Frodo soon reveals that Barrow-Wights are his captors, his thoughts musing that these are the creatures “about which whispered tales spoke.” Of course, the first thing I wondered was: I know what a wight is, but what the heck is a barrow?

Turns out, a barrow is a wheelbarrow, according to the dictionary. See http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/barrow.

In fact, we learn on that very page that Frodo was “in a barrow.” Okay, so he’s being carried in a wheelbarrow. Umm, okay. So at this point I’m visualizing a pretty large freaking barrow on wheels. Then, all of a sudden, Sam, Pippin, and Merry show up in this “barrow,” and about them are lying “many treasures, of gold maybe, though in that light they looked cold and unlovely.”

What the heck??? At this point I’m panicking. What kind of barrow is this? How can there be so much barrow? Is the barrow-wight carrying them around in a simulated wheelbarrow-globe or something? Is this barrow like the Matrix??

The point of true terror really came with this line: “But across their three necks lay one long naked sword.” But who is holding this sword? How can a sword be lying across their necks without cutting them? Is this really a wheelbarrow????!!!! Mr. Tolkien, could you have at least put them in some type of hill? That would make a lot more sense!

It turns out that Tolkien also thought that a hill does make more sense. Go back to the dictionary definition,  http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/barrow, and if you scroll down, you’ll notice that “barrow” is a British word for “hill.” Of course! I didn’t notice this till after I had read the chapter and was reviewing the definition again for this blog post. Who said that critical analysis couldn’t lead to revelatory insight??? Naysayers, I just proved you wrong!

Okay, then Frodo hums a magical tune, and Tom shows up to save the hobbits from the barrow-wight. Now I'm wondering, why Tom? Personally I would have liked to see Goldberry again, so Frodo could say his line of, “Oh sweet fair Goldberry, your hair is so fair, like gold, and your breasts are so soft, just like berries, err, I mean, shoot . . .”

If Tolkien had taken the story in that direction, it could lead to some interesting side-plots that would have had as much relevance to the main plot as these three last chapters. For example, we could have had such classic lines as:

Tom [suddenly showing up]: “You little pervert! Did you really think that the master of his own domain would not notice you perving over my wife? Do you think it’s coincidence that you got caught by a barrow-wight in my domain? That, Frodo, is the natural consequence that flows from your adulterous thoughts.”

Frodo: “Please, I didn’t mean it, I swear! And if you don't mind my asking, Tom, could you explain how a barrow-wight even managed to set up shop in your domain?”

Tom: “No, because you are an two-timing liar! Nevertheless, I forgive you. In the meantime, let’s carry all this treasure we’ve found in this hill out into the sunshine, which will purify its corruption, and then we can all help ourselves to it. Oh, by the way, you all need to take off all of your clothes and frolic in the grass naked until your ponies come, because your clothes are corrupted. I know that’s a little strange because we’re going to steal some of this stolen corrupted treasure, but gold and trinkets and damasked knives are different from corrupted clothes, don’t you see?”

Frodo: “Ah, thank you, Tom. That makes a lot more sense.”

Ah well, for better or for worse, Tolkien decided not to include that dialogue. I guess we'll never know what LOTR could have been. Sigh.

Trilogy of crap chapters finished. Enough said.

"Strider" - Jacob's Thoughts

     'Excellent!' exclaimed Strider … 'You seem to be coming to your senses again, and that is all to the good.  You have been much too careless so far.  Very well!  I will tell you what I know, and leave the reward to you.  You may be glad to grant it, when you have heard me.'

     'Go on then!' said Frodo, 'What do you know?'

     'Too much; too many dark things.'           

              -Strider to Frodo

     'Not all those who wander are lost.'

              -Gandalf on Strider

Part of me really wants to give Eric a longer chance to catch up; but another part of me wants even more to get on with the story, now that we're to the good stuff!  And like Frodo waiting for Gandalf, although I worry for him, I fear that if I wait till the end of July, it will almost be too late!  So I start from Rivendell now, and trust that I can meet up with him later.  (And for the first time ever, I wonder if that old Low song is Tolkien allusion.)

I love hearing original context of famous quotes; David Foster Wallace's "This Is Water", for example, gets passed around a lot as some sort of empowering pep-talk on the importance of positive thinking, as exactly the sort of "banal platitude" that the address is explicitly trying to avoid--which, while fine, ignores the original's much darker context of suicidal depression (especially troubling, given Wallace's own end game).  Likewise, "Not all those who wander are lost," that most renowned of Tolkien quotes, the one on all the bumper stickers and buttons and Tolkien paraphernalia across the globe, is situated in a far more ominous and foreboding context than the t-shirts might imply.

For Strider is a person who's seen things, maaaan! (to put it reductively).  He is our Han Solo, our Hagrid, etc.  He is older than he looks, and he doesn't exactly look great to begin with.  "Weeks, months, even years" of ceaseless travel, ranging, fighting, and hiding has left our man Strider weary and hardened; he has seen "too much, too many dark things"; he has not been "looking for himself," so to speak.  "Not all those who wander are lost" is a true axiom, and while I still like that quote a lot, it is hardly a clarion call to adventure and introspection and self-discovery, as the out-of-context window-decals seem to suggest.

Concerning the "too many dark things," I couldn't help but think of all of Ben and Erics' critiques of the previous chapters, of how our Hobbits repeatedly lacked basic common sense and intelligence concerning their predicament; shoot, I remember being annoyed by how long it took them to finally leave the Shire in the first place, as though there was nothing more pressing!  Well, apparently this Hobbit ditziness was intentional on the part of Tolkien, for I heard all of Ben and Erics' criticisms echoed out of Strider's own mouth in this chapter.  It's a wonder the Hobbits even made it this far, for they have already made so many dumb mistakes.  This acknowledgment is effective at raising the stakes, as it makes the Hobbits' predicament feel far more dire due to their unforced errors.

Meanwhile, what makes this exposition-dump of a chapter work for me is the small moments of character development everyone here still gets, despite Strider being the titular focus.  For starters, we learn Frodo is very discerning, as he says to Strider after reading Gandalf's far-too-belated letter, "I believed that you were a friend before the letter came...or at least I wished to.  You have frightened me several times tonight, but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would, or so I imagine.  I think one of his spies would--well, seem fairer and feel fouler, if you understand."  It is important to me that Frodo can read people effectively, which will be even more important once he starts his dealings with Gollum in The Two Towers.

As for Sam, we learn that he hardly a rustic old rube, but clear-headed and head-strong in how rightfully suspicious he is at first of Strider--for indeed, until Gandalf's letter arrives, how do we know that Strider isn't just tricking them away to their own destruction?  Pippin continues to be the same sort of non-self-aware comic relief, as he yawns in the middle of this intense info-dump about how they might scarcely survive the night. I even like how quickly fleshed-out the innkeeper is, as a man fundamentally good-hearted but absent-minded, and the detail that the innkeeper "prided himself on being a lettered man," is an excellent reminder that we are very much in a medieval context, where literacy is by no means universal or a guarantee.  As for Merry, we finally get to see his Sherlock Holmes-esque investigative abilities at work once more, as he tracks down the Black Riders within Bree.

We even finally learn some new things about the Black Riders themselves, namely that they only attack in broad daylight "if they are desperate," for again, as dark as the darkness may be, the light is still more powerful, and that is also important to remember going forward.  Moreover, these Black Riders apparently rely much more on terror and shadows than on their power--indeed, that is how most tyrants maintain their control, for the truth is that the mass of people secretly frightens them, which is also an important thing to remember, in our own lives.

Also: I love the throw-away detail of how, when the Black Riders first arrived in Bree, all the animals started making a commotion at them, for that shows how unnatural the Black Riders are.  Maybe it's just that my graduate seminar on Ecocriticism this semester is once again infecting me too much, but I love the implication that there is something fundamentally hostile about Sauron not only towards the people of Middle-Earth, but against the natural environment in general!  For the powerful do not just want to control people, but everything, and they will willingly destroy the ecosystem and leave a scorched earth in their quest for power if they have to--and often do.

We see that in the Three Rivers Gorges Damn that drowns out dozens of ancient villages; in man-made global warming that leaves most the American Southwest and all of Australia vulnerable to massive drought; in the wanton destruction of the Amazon Rain Forest (the lung of the world) for coffee plantations; in the oil fires floating down the Nigerian river basin; in the smog over LA, Beijing, Guangzhou, Salt Lake City (and now Paris, most recently!); in the escalating rate of extinction among endangered species; in the destructive process of fracking that poisons our water sheds; in our increasing the acidity of the oceans, the melting of the polar ice caps, the Great Pacific Ocean Garbage Pile that's bigger than Texas; in our oil drilling in the Gulf that not only causes catastrophic eco-disasters, but disappears the marshes that had helped shield New Orleans from hurricanes, etc and etc and etc.

Sauron is described as a "Shadow from the East," like some dark thing that blots out the sun, and I can't help but wonder if Tolkien had in mind the black plumes from the smoke-stacks of Industrial Revolution England when he wrote that.

In all cases, it is a relentless pursuit of profit, explicitly for power and gain over all else, that has caused Mankind to turn on the environment--and the environment to turn on us!  In Lord of the Rings, we see this first manifested in the animals that instinctively bark at the Black Riders--much later, we will see it in the Ents.  All these need not even be metaphorical: For as changes in global climate patterns cause more and more polar vortexes to break off the Arctic Circle and rampage across the eastern United States (which I had to put up with no less than 3 times this past winter in the Midwest), and as drought afflicts the southwest U.S., and as greater and more powerful hurricanes and typhoons ravage our seaboards, it becomes clear: Nature is pushing back against us.  The animals are wiser in intuiting the threat of the Black Riders, to warn us against the darkness that we allow among ourselves that will destroy us as well as them, for we are not separate from nature.

For one more world building moment: the final footnote of the chapter mentions that "The Sickle" is the Hobbit term for the Plough or Great Bear.  That is, Middle-Earth has the same constellations as us, because we are on Middle-Earth.  This is our world Tolkien is telling us about--and it is our world that Tolkien is warning us to protect!  Remember that, for all the Medieval touches in this novel, there is still a one peculiarly modern twist to it: the quest is not to attain something of great power--an Excalibur or a Holy Grail or what have you--but to destroy it!  The question is clear: will we be as wise as our most distant ancestors, to destroy our desire for power and control that the Ring represents, or succumb to its temptation of power and allow it to destroy us, as all the natural world warns us against?

"In the House of Tom Bombadil" - Eric's Thoughts

Well, I’ve fallen behind in my blogging, but I finally read about Tom’s house.

This chapter clearly should have been cut. Tom just doesn’t really fit into the narrative structure, and a modern reader demands a better payoff for this much time spent introducing a character. Tom is mentioned once in the Council of Elrond, but then ceases to matter.

But nevertheless the chapter is here, and so, plot structure and overall scope aside, I will review it on its own merits, ignoring the overall arc inconsistency.

The descriptions and writing are very good, with some great passages of description. I particularly liked Goldberry’s description:

In a chair, at the far side of the room facing the outer door, sat a woman. Her long yellow hair rippled down her shoulders; her gown was green, green as young reeds, shot with silver like beads of dew; and her belt was of gold, shaped like a chain of flag-lilies set with the pale-blue eyes of forget-me-nots. About her feet in wide vessels of green and brown earthen-ware, white water-lilies were floating, so that she seemed to be enthroned in the midst of a pool.

Now, in regard to plot structure for the chapter itself, Frodo and company say hello to Goldberry, they eat honey, go to sleep—nightmares occur—they wake up and it’s raining, Tom tells them stories, then they go to bed. Not much happening in terms of plot, so one thought I had is that this chapter might have served as a rest chapter after a particularly intense scene. But the Old Man Willow confrontation (the prior chapter) just didn’t do it for it, so this chapter (following the slowest and weakest chapter) in the book made me feel antsy.

In regard to characters, the first question is, what are Tom and Goldberry? Tom is (the text says Tom is, likened to God is), so we know that he’s something more than just a guy. But we knew that already, since he sang a song and Old Man Willow responded. To me he represents the earth itself, unaffected and uncaring of the lusts of man. However, I’m not sure if this is congruent with the living forests that Tom describes, where the Trees have feelings and feel malice towards the walking people and Hobbits. Old Man Willow supposedly represents this malice, as the Willow had exercised dominion over the Old Forest.

So since Trees have malice, maybe that makes Tom the dirt that the trees grow in? I can argue this thesis because (1) trees need dirt and (2) we know that Goldberry is water. In regard to the first point, that trees need dirt, the fact that the Old Man Willow needs dirt probably explains why Tom can order him about. And for the second point, Goldberry rains down on the house, so she is water and represents the feminine that interacts with the dirt, which are married and intertwined. So since we know Tom doesn’t include trees, and isn’t water, he must be dirt.

This symbolism is very poetic and all, but how does any of that matter? How does it make sense when Trees have malice? These questions kept running through my head as I was reading.

Definitely the best moment of the whole chapter occurred when Tom takes the ring, and the ring stretches to fit his finger, and he puts it on and doesn’t vanish. This tells you that Tom transcends the desires and lusts of Man and Hobbit, and even of lesser gods like Gandalf. He is, and is unaffected by the ring. (So maybe the ring doesn’t affect dirt?)

Frodo puts the ring on, and disappears, and Tom can see him. Perhaps Tom’s power is greater than Sauron’s? What if Sauron had won, would his power extend into Tom’s domain? These are questions I don’t have answers to, and really it’s always up to the author anyway, so anything is possible.

I think if a high school teacher graded this particular blog for a grade s/he would say: “Unfocused thesis, sarcastic, and lacks any insight whatsoever.” In response to that I say: Thank goodness I’m not in high school anymore. I don’t have to worry about that stuff.