"The Ring Goes South" - Jacob's Thoughts

I would like to respectfully dispute Ben on a comment he made during "The Council of Elrond," wherein he mentions "the benevolent pastoralism that Tolkien seems to cherish most about the Hobbits and the Elves."  For on the contrary, a theme that I've been tracing in this series--one I first noted clear from the first chapter but that has slowly become more apparent as we've continued--is specifically the anti-pastoral elements implicit within Lord of the Rings.

We had noted right off the bat how the Shire, though Tolkien clearly harbors affection for its residents, is certainly not presented as some sort of Edenesque sanctuary as one would expect from such a pastoral realm, but rather is filled with the petty, small-minded, and even the cruel.  The Old Forest too, for all of that chapter's manifold faults, also features a darker Natural world, even one not under the explicit influence of Sauron.  While Nature is certainly celebrated in this series (from Tom Bombadil's and the Elves' harmonious relationship with it to Frodo's longing for mountains), nevertheless nature is never actually romanticized as intrinsically virtuous, good, or rejuvenating--a clever inversion of the traditional English Romantic model of Wordsworth and Coleridge with which Tolkien would have been familiar.

This chapter especially foregrounds this anti-pastoral, un-romantic conception of nature as morally neutral at best.  For we see spying birds flying against the wind, every woodland critter a potential ally of the Dark Lord.  The vindictiveness of Caradhras, too, presents a nature that, even as it has no active affiliation with Sauron (or with anyone really), can nevertheless be a hindrance and an enemy.

Of course, none of this is to say that Nature is inherently an enemy in this series, either; for example, Strider is the one who identifies the eery stillness of the silent forest as a sign of something ominous and wicked.  That is, when Nature herself is silenced, then something has gone horribly wrong (such was Rachel Carson's intention with the title of her famed anti-DDT screed Silent Spring).  Nature has as much a right to exist as anyone living creature in Middle-Earth--but also like every creature in Middle-Earth, there is never any guarantee that Nature will be an ally or an enemy.  Nature is neither intrinsically benevolent nor inherently evil in the world of Lord of the Rings, no--Nature is morally neutral.  Respect her, yes, but don't count on her for help or goodness.  (Always good advice when one goes out hiking).

Now, that all said, I will agree with Ben on another intriguing element of these chapters, that "Sauron is all about gaining knowledge, rule, and above all, order."  The panoptic, NSA-esque, surveillance state nature of the aforementioned birds flying against the wind is another great example of how Sauron seeks to exercise total control over the realms under his influence, enlisting all living things as spies one against another in a sort of Orwellian nightmare (one wonders if Tolkien had read then-recent 1984), refusing to allow any potential enemies of Sauron's state to escape the watchful eye of Big Brother.

Contrast these totalitarian tendencies of Sauron against Elrond, who delivers the following parting words to the Fellowship:

"'The ring bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom.  On him alone is any charge laid...The others go with him as free companions, to help him on his way.  You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows.  The further you go, the less easy will it be to withdraw; yet no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will.  For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts, and you cannot foresee what each may meet upon the road.' 

'Faithless is he that says farewell when the road is darkness,' said Gimli. 

'Maybe,' said Elrond, 'but let him not vow to walk in the dark, who has not seen the nightfall.' 

'Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart,' said Gimli, 

'Or break it,' said Elrond."

For Elrond, the Fellowship must never be compelled to continue their Quest--they must all proceed of their own free will and choice, fully cognizant of their freedom to quit at any time.  Otherwise, if they act only under compulsion, how are they any better or different than Sauron?  One recalls that scarcely a decade before LotR was published, Stalin was able to stave off Hitler's invasion through a policy of shooting all deserters--which has a sort of brutal logic, for if you have a 90% chance of dying against the Nazis but a 100% against your own government, then you'll take your chances against the Blitzkrieg.  This compulsion is part of what helped the Allies wear down the Third Reich; but it is also what allowed Stalin to remain in power post-war and starve to death twice as many Ukrainians as Hitler murdered Jews.  In the battle between Hitler and Stalin, there was no functional difference between the two.

Tolkien recognizes this, and communicates that wisdom in the mouth of Elrond by refusing to supplant one form of tyranny with another, but rather ensures that Sauron's defeat is accomplished by free men only.

We've barely touched on Tolkien's religiosity, but I feel his Christian faith may actually be relevant here, for, believe it or not, this same principle of voluntary military service is present within the Old Testament of the Bible:

"And the officers shall speak further unto the people, and they shall say, What man is there that is fearful and fainthearted? let him go and return unto his house, lest his brethren’s heart faint as well as his heart." (Deuteronomy 20:8)

In the supposedly-barbaric Law of Moses, if anyone is "faint of heart," they are excused from the battle, no questions asked, no bridges burned, for everyone else is barely a notch away from fainting in fear as well.  Or, as Elrond would say, "no oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will.  For you do not yet know the strength of your hearts."  I can't help but hear this same Jewish voice in Elrond's mouth.

But these topics of warfare, tyrants, and misery are all so dark and dreary; how about I finish with one of the more hopeful moments of the chapter?  As usual, it is by the Hobbits:

"What about helping me with my book, and making a start on the next? Have you thought of an ending?" 

"Yes, several, and all are dark and unpleasant," said Frodo. 

"Oh, that won't do!" said Bilbo, "Books ought to have good endings.  How would this do: and they all settled down and lived happily ever after?" 

"It will do well, if it ever comes to that," said Frodo. 

"Ah!" said Sam, "And where will they live?  That's what I often wonder."

As someone who has spent the better part of the past decade myself not knowing exactly where I live either--not merely where I pay rent or work or go to school, but where I'm from--I can say alongside Sam that "that's what I often wonder" too.