"The Ring Goes South" - Ben's Thoughts

I'm not entirely sure what to write about in this chapter. It serves mainly as a transition between the comfortable planning of "Council" and the horrors of "A Journey in the Dark" and what comes after. The Fellowship is created and pitted against the elements, which it is hinted are empowered by Sauron or perhaps by some cruel anima of their own, and comes off the worse. The chapter is a showcase of personalities, as each member of the Fellowship (except for Merry, who is completely and predictably shafted) gets their moment(s) in the sun to add input, ideas, and otherwise emerge as singular personalities. The banter between members is quite lovely, actually, and is the highlight of the the chapter. I'll run through some of the members' moments later in the post.

But first, my promised rebuttal to Jacob's heretic notion that Tolkien is somehow anti-pastoral! Blasphemy! What Jacob is searching for, I believe, is that Tolkien is not a Romantic. Indeed, this chapter highlights just how cruel nature can be, from the birds (likely spies of Saruman) to the ceaseless cold you can almost feel creeping into your bones as the Fellowship trudges south to the snow and potentially other things on Caradhras. And this is not the first time that Tolkien has underscored the idea that nature is not something that brings joy in every circumstance: to this point we've been confronted with the ancient anger of the Old Forest, the frustration of the Midgewater Marshes, and the bleak hostility of the Ettenmoors. No -- a Romantic Tolkien is not. Finding oneself in or being rejuvenated by Nature is not one of his major themes in LOTR, not by a long shot.

But Tolkien is quite consistent in his philosophy, I feel. He advocates a simpler lifestyle -- one that is removed from the machinelike order of Mordor or Isengard; one that is most obviously exemplified by the Hobbits in the Shire, but is brought to the fulness of essence in the character of Tom Bombadil.

Yes, I know -- you thought we had left old Tom behind (he won't be referenced again until the very end of "Return of the King"), but I must drag him back into the spotlight to make this point. Tom is "Master." He is in complete control of the Nature that surrounds him -- Nature that is itself harsh, cruel, and predatory. And yet he chooses to surround himself in that Nature, not ruling over it by forcing it into constricted forms as Sauron would do, but instead coexisting and yet not submitting to it. In the same way, the Shire, with its cultivated fields and simplified lifestyle, is idealized (although Tolkien is not shy about pointing out the faults in this society as well; nowhere is perfect, he seems to be saying) and set forth as what should be protected and saved from the terror in the East. The Elves, especially those in Lothlórien (which we will meet in a few chapters) live in this same way -- in the trees themselves, in fact. They do not eschew the protection of technology and warfare and magical protection, but instead coexist with it, lord over it, but do not subdue it in the process.

This chapter shows a different philosophy in the form of the departed Noldor who settled Hollin under the leadership of Celebrimbor (the original forger of the Rings of Power). The stones themselves seem to lament their short-sighted outlook: "they are gone". Their forgings and delvings availed them nothing, and in the end they had to flee Middle-earth. Tolkien depicts the Noldor in this way throughout his works: concerned with craft and smithying, they subdue the materials of Arda (Tolkien's name for the world) but are never satisfied with what they have created (a less destructive mirror of Sauron's philosophy of order and control). Compare that with Tom's existence -- one of constant cheer and delight in what is encountered in the natural world around him and those who enter his sphere of influence, but from a position of powerful deity who could control, if he so wished, but chooses instead not to.

I don't want to get ahead of myself, but of course Tolkien undermines these ideals throughout the text as well. Tom is presented as someone who cannot bring about a greater good because of how he has chosen to exercise power. Likewise at the end of LOTR, Frodo cannot find satisfaction in the pastoral simplicity of the Shire, and must seek transcendence elsewhere (of course, this is just as likely a metaphor for death).

Thus, all in all, Tolkien is not advocating Romanticism, but a brand of pastoralism, where man should be in contact with Nature but also exercise benevolent control over it. This is the lifestyle that Our Heroes are sacrificing for (well, some of them, at any rate). His love for Nature and the dominion of Man, ideally in perfect balance, shines through in the text's quiet moments, as when Frodo recites one of Bilbo's poems in "Three is Company":

Upon the hearth the fire is red, / Beneath the roof there is a bed; / But not yet weary are our feet, / Still round the corner we may meet / A sudden tree or standing stone / That none have seen but we alone. . . . 

We'll wander back to home and bed. / Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, / Away shall fade! Away shall fade! / Fire and lamp, and meat and bread, / And then to bed! And then to bed!

As mentioned above, the chapter is something of a showcase for the personalities of the members of the Fellowship and the other main characters, particularly the new characters. Pippin manages to make more comments of astounding stupidity, not least of which is his comment that it was not fair that Frodo and Sam got to go on this awesome quest and they were stuck in Rivendell. Elrond gets to be wise and somewhat mysterious; his comments suggesting magical foresight were very interesting to me. In this day and age of fantasy books with increasingly complex and well-defined magic systems, Tolkien's rule-less system of suggestion and innate knowledge employed by the Elves in particular is both intriguing and frustrating. I'll be sure to keep a close eye on how Tolkien treats Galadriel's magic when we are introduced to her later in the text. Elrond's comment about how the Shire is not free from peril demonstrates that he knows something of what is happening there already with the influx of Saruman's agents. Bilbo manages to get in a few licks, as well, and Tolkien perfectly conveys both his age and his love for Frodo. It's heartwarming and tear-jerking to see him try to pass off his most prized possessions as relics for which he has no further use, all for Frodo's benefit and protection.

On the new characters: Gimli's stalwart personality and love of all things Dwarvish is front and center, what with his comments to Elrond and his waxing poetic over the nearness of his deep roots in Khazad-dûm. Likewise, Boromir emerges as a resourceful and invaluable contributor to the party as he essentially takes charge after the snowfall on Caradhras. He remains ridiculously arrogant, however, what with his comments about "doughty Men" and "lesser Men". You can practically see him flexing his muscles for the benefit of the Hobbits as he talks about how the "strongest of us" must force a path through the snow. Legolas, sadly, is defined only by his race: his comments all revolve around being an Elf and the history of the Elves.

I have to end on Sam, however. He has some beautiful moments: regretting the lack of rope, for one, which genre-savvy Sam realizes will be needed a chapter down the road and beyond; and his thoughtful comment about how fairy tales never address what comes after: "Ah! And where will they live? That's what I often wonder." LOTR is a tale that fully addresses the consequences of the choices made by the characters throughout the book with its bittersweet denouement. No doubt we'll address this more in "Return of the King," but I always appreciated those final chapters. Frodo and Bilbo are irreparably changed by their experiences bearing the Ring; Frodo especially is unable to return to the simple life because of his trauma. Sam, too, will undergo a similar journey; while he will be showered with blessings of property, prestige, and posterity, after the death of his wife he will follow Frodo across the sea. Although the journey to Valinor is likely a metaphor for death, as I mentioned above, it is at once a cop-out and an acknowledgement that at some point, we can never truly learn about what comes after.

Leave it to Sam to say something profound in such simple terms.