"The Mirror of Galadriel" - Jacob's Thoughts

I feel as though Celeborn could've been speaking on behalf of Eric when he lamented, "one would say that at last Gandalf fell from wisdom into folly, going needlessly into the net of Moria."

But then I also feel that Tolkien responds directly to Eric (and other such critical readers) through the Lady Galadriel's rejoinder: "He would be rash indeed that said such a thing...Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life.  Those that followed him knew not his mind and cannot report his full purpose."

This statement is effective at inaugurating the aura of mystery that permeates both this realm of Lothlórien and the chapter itself.  For only the second time this novel, Frodo has another cryptic vision of the Ocean that he's never seen before (I had in fact forgotten about his first one in "A Conspiracy Unmasked," even though I'd written about it--and I hadn't realized that this would be a repeating dream; I'm please Tolkien hasn't forgotten the Sea); we also get our first hint that Gandalf is not as irrevocably lost as we assumed for the last 2 chapter, though Tolkien wisely keeps it ambiguous as to whether Frodo sees Gandalf or the more nefarious Saruman; and as though to further worry us about the dark forebodings about these visions, we get what I believe is our very first ever glimpse of the eye of Sauron.

Among the more controversial moves of the Peter Jackson films is his introduction of the physical presence of Sauron right from the get go, keeping him constantly foregrounded throughout the rest of the series.  Far more effective, I think, is Tolkien's choice to not provide any sort of image of the chief antagonist until we are well over three-quarters our way through the first novel.  Our imaginations can thereby run wild, creating something far more terrifying than any words could describe.  Since Sauron is so much a creature of our worst nightmares, it makes sense that his first genuine appearance should arrive in such a dream-like setting, and pop up in such an unexpectedly dream-like manner.

And then what an introduction!  A single eye emerging from the darkness, rimmed with fire, a feline yellow like some inhuman predator, like something straight out of the darkest recesses of our subconscious, looking, hunting, for you specifically!  The water itself bubbles and smokes, and the ring becomes heavy, reminding us again of its own wicked agency, and almost reaches out for its Dark Master right there and then!  We're not entirely sure that Frodo and Sam aren't all just dreaming this sequence (they had just barely lied down to sleep when Galadriel bid them follow), but that doesn't distract from its terror--in fact, it only augments it.  This is the sort of scene that is normally written on a bad drug trip, or after a fitful night's sleep.

Then comes the "test" of Galadriel, which I was surprised that, with the exception of the co-presence of Sam, goes down exactly as the film presents it.  But then, it shouldn't have been a surprise, for it's a very cinematic scene, deeply impactful and almost more frightening than the appearance of the eye of Sauron.  What I'm a little more baffled by, then, is what, exactly, are the parameters of this "test."  I mean, I understand that the Ring corrupts whoever owns it, even those with the best of intentions, so I'm glad that she resisted the awful temptation (and her line "All shall love me and despair!" is almost more frightening, in a BDSM sorta way, than Sauron, who merely demands your submission, not your adoration too!).  But why, exactly, must the elves "diminish" with the destruction of the Ring?  Why is this a Catch-22 for the elves between domination and exile?  What ancient Faustian deal did they make that resulted in their fates on Middle-Earth being tied to the Ring's existence?  I confess that I'm confused as to this particular plot point.  Can either of you explain it to me?

Likewise intriguing is Galadriel's statement that the elves will not submit to Sauron "for they know him now," implying that they didn't before, and didn't for awhile.  Now that Sauron has made his first real appearance, I admit that I'm all the more intrigued with him now: was he some sort of "devil appearing as an angel of light" in some earlier era?  Before he became Nightmarish Oppression personified, was he a smooth-talker?  A sales-man?  Charming?  Handsome?  Likeable? A disimulator who conquered through seduction and a silver-tongue?  Why didn't the wise old elves know him for what he was at first?  Was he just that smooth before he finally cast off his disguise and revealed himself for the devil he really is?  Suddenly Sauron isn't just a "Generic Boss Character" to defeat anymore, but a real being with a real past and a real personality.  It's almost with sadness that I realize this series probably won't answer any more of my questions about him.

"The Bridge of Khazad-dûm" - Eric's Thoughts

Ok, so I said the last chapter was good, but this is a masterful chapter. It's the chapter where Gandalf dies, confronting the Balrog on the bridge.

It’s for chapters like these that we read books. Let’s break down what Tolkien is doing.

The chapter begins with momentum from a cliffhanger of a previous chapter, Balin’s death. Gandalf finds an old book with haunting fragments, describing Balin’s expedition into the mines. The expedition did not fare well, and the burnt out words and lack of clarity as to what went wrong makes the scene more eerie. It's a classic trope, but done really well here. The book foreshadows drums, and ends with the forlorn line, “We cannot get out, we cannot get out.”

Notice the language that Tolkien uses in creating his world: he references in the book specific halls that give the illusion that there is more to Moria than just the scenes described thus far. It’s little snippets like these that allow novels to have depth that go outside what the characters are actually experiencing, and make a book three dimensional. (Note that while the LOTR world-building is three-dimensional, the characters in LOTR so far are not three dimensional. At least not yet. So far we’ve had little thought from any character, and each of the Company are little more than caricatures. The only character so far with any semblance of depth is probably Strider, and the character of Gandalf is well-done, though two-dimensional, in his role as the wise wizard. Feel free to chime in Jacob and Ben whether you think I’m wrong about this.) 

In this chapter, I found myself wanting to read on, even knowing what happened. Unfortunately I don’t remember what I was thinking or feeling the first time I read this chapter. My experience this time was one of awe at how well the chapter was done.

So you’ll never guess what happens next. As foreshadowed in the book Gandalf finds, drums begin to beat, and Gandalf growls that they shouldn’t have been reading a book. One of the Company members suggests running, but Tolkien rules that possibility out by telling the reader the Company needs to stay and fight in the tomb (Gandalf notes that it would serve no purpose to flee into the darkness, although later that’s exactly what they do.)

A battle occurs next, which is very simplistic in its language. Orc heads are cleaved, arrows whine, and even Sam gets a kill, though is bleeding from a nasty scrape in the head. There are not blow-by-blow accounts here, and the scene is no less compelling for it. This is also where Bilbo’s gift comes into play, where an orc chieftain rams his spear into Frodo. Everyone thinks Frodo is dead. But Frodo declares himself not dead, and Gandalf notes that there is more to Frodo than meets the eye, like Bilbo. (A very Gandalf line that references the first book, and is a nice touch of consistent characterization.) I anxiously then was waiting for Aragon’s movie line, “That thrust would have skewered a wild boar,” and it did not happen until way after when the Company leaves Balin’s tomb and goes into the next chapter safely (Lothlorien). When it wasn’t said at first, I was actually disappointed, because I thought it was a good line. But lo and behold, when the Company is out of Balin’s tomb, Aragon says it in the Lothlorien chapter, and I was made whole.

Gandalf’s first confrontation with the Balrog happens offstage, and Gandalf describes that he was almost “destroyed.” How well done was that? This is the difference between a professional writer and an amateur, knowing what scenes to tell and what scenes to put in action, and what sequence to put them in. An often heard guideline for writers is to “show, don’t tell.” This is something that high school teachers teach without actually knowing what it means. In fact, high school teachers, and college professors, often get it wrong. Telling is actually a critical tool for a writer. There is nothing more important than the phrase, “Three days passed without event.” Guess why? Because otherwise scenes drag out without event, and the story becomes dull. One of the most difficult parts of writing is knowing what to show and what to tell. Now, maybe Tolkien could have written an okay scene from Gandalf’s perspective fighting, and then stagger back to the Company, but the scene becomes much more compelling when told from Company’s perspective: their leader, beaten and tired, growling that he needs to rest if all the orcs in Middle Earth were after them. (Gandalf, apparently, as shown by his short temper on the matter, is not one that is used to defeat.)  The Company is left in suspense, as is the reader.  While in the movies there is a wizard’s duel earlier with Saruman where Gandalf gets a sound licking, in the books Gandalf was taken by Saruman by trickery than an outright confrontation of power. (By the way, I digress, but what the heck is up with the names Saruman and Sauron? Tolkien really dropped the ball there. Soooo confusing to readers. I remember this confused me the first time I was reading the books, two powerful villains with such similar names.) So having Gandalf tell the confrontation, rather than experience it, is a very nice touch. Note that when Gandalf is telling the story, the scene is showing, so this isn’t necessarily a perfect example of knowing when to skip fluff with a simple sentence, but you know what I mean. I guess it’s a better example of sequencing, and how using a quick reverse-chrono switch you can create an even more compelling scene.

So then the Company runs, and crosses a narrow bridge that falls to infinity. And of course, it’s the iconic Gandalf confrontation with the Balrog. I’ve included all of the sentences I could find that describe the Balrog, which in the text is interspersed, so you can easily reference what language Tolkien is using to describe the beast. I think it gives a good example on how you want to use language to create imagery and dramatic suspense. It's clear that Tolkien uses a more classic (i.e. not modern) form of style to convey imagery, but it still works.

But it was not the trolls that had filled the Elf with terror. The ranks of the orcs had opened, and they crowded away, as if they themselves were afraid. Something was coming up behind them. What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which was a dark form, of man-shape maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in it and to go before it. It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoke swirled in the air. Its streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs.[. . .] The dark figure streaming with fire raced towards them. [. . .] His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. [. . .] The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly on to the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height , and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small, and altogether alone : grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the onset of a storm.

 [. . .]

With a terrible cry the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged down and vanished. But even as it fell it swung its whip, and the thongs lashed and curled about the wizard’s knees, dragging him to the brink. He staggered and fell, grasped vainly at the stone, and slid into the abyss . ‘Fly, you fools!’ he cried , and was gone.

It’s here that we leave the fairy-tale land of the Hobbit behind, and realize that there may not be a happy ending to this tale.

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

What a great chapter. ‘Journey in the Dark’ is Tolkien-heroin at its best. This is exactly why I loved these books as a kid.

After the failure of scaling the mountain, the Company has essentially been boxed in and forced into the Underworld. They cross a creepy lake, and the ripples in the water foreshadow an unpleasant beast living in it. My first thought when I was reading was: ah, Tolkien, the monster was a nice touch to scare children, but there’s a plot hole. How would a giant 'watcher of the water' come to live in a lake that’s isolated from any moving bodies like rivers and streams? Gotcha there, Tolkien!

To my utter horror and delight, the text directly answers that question and says that the beast crawled up from Moria and has come to inhabit the lake. I felt like a fool—the creature simply crawled in after leaving Moria. Duh. Touche, Tolkien, touche.

And since we’re talking about fools, Gandalf of course has the best lines of the chapter, when he name calls Pippin for knocking a stone down a shaft. ‘Fool of a Took!’ Gandalf growled. ‘This is a serious journey, not a hobbit walking-party. Throw yourself in next time, and then you will be no further nuisance. Now be quiet!’

There’s great snippets of imagery as well: “The last thing that Pippin saw, as sleep took him, was a dark glimpse of the old wizard huddled on the floor, shielding a glowing chip in his gnarled hands between his knees. The flicker for a moment showed his sharp nose, and the puff of smoke.”

I skimmed over Jacob and Ben’s thoughts on this chapter and they pretty well capture a lot of the thoughts I was having when I was reading it. So maybe something I could add is that this chapter represents a classic point in the Hero’s Journey, or Campbell’s monomyth.

In the monomyth, the hero must descend into the underworld, which is a classic story trope. For example, in the Odyssey, Odysseus goes into the underworld to seek information, giving blood in exchange for information. In Hercules the son of Zeus goes down to bring back someone from the dead. In Batman, Bruce Wayne descends into a cave to retrieve his toys and become Batman. (I jest, I jest.) In LOTR, the Company must descend into the Underworld to come out the other side. They are not seeking information, or resurrection, or even toys, but are instead overcoming (or should I say undercoming?) geography.

I guess there’s not really much to say about the monomyth except that here’s an example of it. The old Frodo dies down here when he’s stabbed, and a new hobbit will emerge, one that is willing to leave his friends. The Mines eliminate the handholder Gandalf, and force Frodo to come to terms that the Company will fail, and that he's going to have to become a hero on his own.

This chapter is all foreshadowing, to the tap-tap sounds of other creatures, to the hints of Gollum. It all ends with a cliffhanger of Balin being declared dead. “‘He is dead then,’ said Frodo. ‘I feared it was so.’ Gimli cast his hood over his face.”

The suspense here is real. Steven King once said that to scare someone you merely describe mundane reality for 95% of the time, all the while foreshadowing, and then suddenly bring out the ghost. This chapter is nothing but dark and quiet suspense, from the watcher of the water boxing them in, to the dark climb through Moria, seeing nothing except seven foot chasms that they have to jump across. While I was reading, I was wondering if I would have the nerve to jump a seven foot chasm that fell forever. This is exactly what a writer wants a reader to do: question if THEY would have the nerve to do it.

There were fissures and chasms in the walls and floor, and every now and then a crack would open right before their feet. The widest was more than seven feet across, and it was long before Pippin could summon enough courage to leap over the dreadful gap. The noise of churning water came up from far below, as if some great mill-wheel was turning in the depths. ‘Rope!’ muttered Sam. ‘I knew I’d want it, if I hadn’t got it!’

I think this is the first time that I authentically wanted to immediately read on to the next chapter, but of course I didn’t so I could write this blog post!

"Lothlórien" - Jacob's Thoughts

"We must do without hope."

 -Aragorn

With that despairing line, Aragorn makes clear that though no dark things ultimately follow the Fellowship out of Moria (as he had feared), still the darkness itself has stuck to them.  A general bleak hopelessness permeates this chapter, and follows them all the way to titular Lothlórien itself, where the normally-reverie-filled Elves catalog with a weary sense of resignation how, one by one, all their potential escape routes have been closed off--as though the thought of being forced to abandon their beloved realm in the face of the Evil One wasn't heart-breaking enough.

I found this chapter to be peculiarly unsettling, which was particularly intriguing given how, plot wise, all that really happens is they escape safely away from Moria.  Hooray, cigars all around, right?  But the Fellowship's escape from Moria is a Pyrrhic victory, and what's more a temporary one--Sting is still glowing blue, even in these Elfin realms.  And oh yes, Gandalf's gone--one gets the feeling that the Fellowship is perpetually denied a chance to properly grieve.

In trying to localize my unsettled feeling in this chapter, I think it's connected to the fact that Moria, while dark and dangerous, was still nonetheless a known property; it was an evil place, yes, but still just that, a place, one sequestered off deep under the Earth.  There was the implicit assurance that if they could just get through Moria, then things would be peachy again.  But in these increasingly dark times, evil is no longer quarantined away, but spreads forth its borders and contaminates the very top-soil around them. More than that, even, the evil has infected themselves--hopelessness has taken a firm root in their hearts.  The Elves likewise fully own up to how the power of Sauron is demonstrated by how he can divide his enemies through distrust--yet still they are plagued by distrust, and simply shrug their shoulders about it and keep on distrusting, as though there is nothing else to be done about it.  Even Aragorn says they live no longer for hope but for vengeance--in a different series, that would sound like the first steps towards converting to the Dark Side. 

Of course, I'm not suggesting that Aragorn is actually taking the first bitter steps towards becoming a Sith or anything here, no--if it was simple as all that, we'd be fine, for one turning to the Dark Side could then just as easily turn back to the Light.  No, what makes this darkness so unsettling, I think, is just how resigned everyone is to it, how self-aware they are of the Darkness they carry like a chronic disease, yet can't do much more than just carry it around like a dull pain at the bottom of their gut--never debilitating, never grievous, but also ever present, ever irritating.  It's a sort of Chinese Water Torture for the soul, where the anguish originates less from the mere drops of water (harmless in and of themselves), than from their inescapability.  While plot wise not much happens in this chapter, it does a good job, I think, of setting the table for the next chapter, as it subtly illustrates just how badly our Fellowship needs a break, needs some ray of light.

A closing note on Gollum: here I think was a narrative master-stroke on Tolkien's part.  For the feeling one gets as he sneaks up suspiciously on our Frodo, only to be scared away by the Elf lord, is "close call!"  And it was a close call indeed, but not for the reasons one might first assume; that is, it is not poor Frodo we should be wiping our brows for here, but for all of Middle-Earth, that the Elf lord did not kill Gollum while he still could.  For as Eric noted clear back at the start of this project, if Gollum had been slain here or anywhere between The Hobbit and The Return of the King, then Sauron would have won.

"A Journey in the Dark" - Ben's Thoughts

This chapter is Gandalf's. It's nice that the wizard finally gets his moment in the sun before what we know is inevitably coming around the corner in "The Bridge of Khazad-dûm," and here he really shines. His dry wit, his ability to lead and direct the Fellowship, and how generally awesome his world-weariness-cum-experience comes across powerfully to the reader. Gandalf always was a bit of a cipher in The Hobbit, as his role as Bilbo's "wise and helpful guide" forced him to take a back-seat position more often than not in the narrative. But in Moria, Gandalf is in the thick of his "great task," as Elrond described it, and gets to show forth his powers and personality in ways only hinted at previously.

Onward to the meat of the chapter. Tolkien does a good job communicating how crushing the "defeat" on Caradhras must have been for the Fellowship, but I'm a bit confused just why that was so. Gandalf even mentions the possibility of returning to Rivendell. This doesn't make any sense -- not being able to clear the pass is disheartening, but hardly the crushing blow it's made out to be. Additionally, I find it interesting that  Gandalf insinuates that Sauron and Saruman are aware that the Ring is on the move. How could they possibly know that? Sauron doesn't sense the Ring even when it approaches his own borders and crosses the Mountains of Ash right near Minas Morgul and Kirith Ungol -- how could he tell it has left Rivendell? Perhaps it's because Gandalf is on the move; Gandalf also implies that he himself is like a beacon to those who know what to look for. I suppose it would make sense that Sauron would think that the Ring would be with or near Gandalf. In any case, the logic Gandalf utilizes to convince the company to dive into Moria is a bit tortured; why should there be any greater risk in nearing Saruman's territory, when the Ring will eventually have to be brought into Sauron's backyard if they are to chuck the thing in Mount Doom? From the rest of the book, it's quite clear that every passage to Mordor is being watched, from Moria to the Anduin River to the Gap of Rohan. So why take the most dangerous passage by far? …For the purposes of the plot, of course. Frodo has to go off on his own, and Aragorn has to become king. For this to happen, Gandalf has to be temporarily removed from the narrative. Not the most elegant solution, but it works. Plus, the Moria chapters are some of the most powerfully atmospheric (and contain some of the most intense action) of the entire novel. I suppose we can forgive the convoluted way that the Fellowship decides to take that route.

The warg attack on the camp is a fun prelude to the crazy action of Moria. From Tolkien's descriptions -- that the creatures only have a "wolf-shape" instead of being proper "wolves," and Gandalf's invocation of the warg leader as the "foul hound of Sauron," it's clear that these are not ordinary wolves. What they are remains unclear; perhaps they are in some way connected with Carcharoth, Morgoth's favorite pet from The Silmarillion, who seems to have been a Maia of some sort. Even though the company makes fairly short work of them, this section ratchets up the creepiness factor with the revelation that the next morning, all the dead wolves have vanished, leaving Legolas' Elvish arrows behind them. It is interesting to see that Gandalf's contribution to the fight wasn't running around with his sword or zapping wolves with his staff, but simple illumination, hope, and courage in the midst of a tense situation. This of course mirrors the entirety of his mission in Middle-earth. This boost for those around him is also reflected in a quieter way in the "wards of guard and guiding" he provides for Bill the pony before sending him on his way. Gandalf cares about all the creatures under his protection.

Speaking of creepy, what about that Watcher in the Water? What IS that thing? "Luminous" tentacles? "Luminous" tentacles with hands on the ends? …gives me the shivers. Tolkien is a master of this kind of suspense… it's clear from the moment the company spots that water that something horrible is in there. You're just waiting for the other shoe to drop. What is interesting is that it seems that the Watcher just wants to be left alone; it doesn't try to kill anyone or come raging after the Fellowship after they head through the gates of Moria; instead it tears down the gates and shuts them in. (Completely changed in the Peter Jackson movie, of course, where the Watcher becomes "generic movie Kraken" and the encounter becomes a 5-minute action sequence, complete with Frodo flying through the air and Aragorn bravely wading into the water to hack tentacles off. Ugh.) The creature obviously has some sense of the Ring and its importance, though, or it wouldn't have grabbed Frodo "out of all the company." A very effective scene.

Characterization is mostly forward-moving in this chapter. Gimli remains well-drawn; his excitement to see the Mines and the assistance he gives Gandalf works well. Boromir, in keeping with past characterization, is obviously impatient with the choice to go into the Mines, and doesn't have a lot of faith in Gandalf's leadership. Legolas unfortunately remains flat; I bet he won't get any kind of development until Lothlórien. Frodo gets extrasensory perception in this chapter; he knows to be afraid of the pool before anyone else, and he's able to hear/feel that Gollum is following the company once they are in the Mines. It's unclear what the source of these powers is. Is it the Ring? The fact that Frodo was partially transformed into a wraith? Or is it a gift from the Valar? Speculation is basically hopeless, since Tolkien doesn't care to elaborate. I'll have to keep an eye out for future hints. Sam does get badly mischaracterized at one point, unfortunately; he is excited at the prospect of returning to Rivendell and "sinks back into gloom" when that option is rejected. Really, Sam is the one who should be all for pushing on with stalwart courage. Pippin would have been a better choice if one of the Hobbits had wanted to turn back. Tolkien does get it right later, when it takes Pippin a while to summon the courage to leap over the gap in the Mines.

Aragorn comes more the fore-front in this chapter, first with his warning to Gandalf, and then later with his quiet support of Gandalf in the Mines. It's important to remember that these two are very old friends, and have been on many journeys together. At one point Frodo reflects that he doesn't really know Gandalf very well at all; while they are friends, the true nature of Gandalf's character and mission are hid from the Shire-folk. Aragorn, however, knows Gandalf very well. This places a lot of import on Aragorn's plea that Gandalf not enter the Mines; not necessarily because it will place the company at risk, but because of the danger to Gandalf himself. This also gives another subtle showcase of Aragorn's power; he can get a sense of the future to some degree. Later, in the Mines, Aragorn is described as "grim and silent" -- he comes across as über-confident, but much more personable, kind, and reassuring than Boromir.

All in all, this chapter is a masterful one. After the excitement of the fight with the Wargs and the horror of the Watcher in the Water, the Mines come across as beautiful and horrible at the same time. The chapter also conveys the deep history of the Dwarves through Gimli's song and Gandalf's story about mithril. This is tied back nicely to The Hobbit and Bilbo's gift of his coat of rings. The mention of "Durin's Bane," at a point when a first-time reader has no clue what that might be, is also suitably creepy. The reader knows that entering the Mines will have some consequences at some point, and from the moment the Fellowship steps inside the gates, he is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Frodo's revelation that something has begun to follow them, and the hammer-tapping after Pippin foolishly drops the stone (or is somehow compelled to drop it?) down the well adds to the reader's disquiet.

All in all, the chapter balances nostalgia, fear, sentiment, horror, and mounting tension throughout. It is a wonderful "calm before the storm" of the next chapter, where everything set up here pays off in a big way. I'll close with a few quotes: first the passage where Tolkien describes the Fellowship through their footfalls. An unorthodox way of doing it, but an effective one; it's stuck with me practically verbatim through the years.

"There was no sound but the sound of their own feet; the dull stump of Gimli's dwarf-boots; the heavy tread of Boromir; the light step of Legolas; the soft, scarce-heard patter of hobbit-feet; and in the rear the slow firm footfalls of Aragorn with his long stride."

And because Gandalf wasn't included in that description, here's a beautiful description of the wizard in the midst of a chapter that could be considered his swan song:

"The last thing that Pippin saw, as sleep took him, was a dark glimpse of the old wizard huddled on the floor, shielding a glowing chip in his gnarled hands between his knees. The flicker for a moment showed his sharp nose, and the puff of smoke."

Simplicity and elegance of writing. A lesser writer would have done more; here Tolkien conveys a lot with very little.

The Ring Goes South - Eric's Thoughts

“For many sunless days an icy blast came from the Mountains of the east, and no garment seemed able to keep out its searching fingers.”

Jacob and Ben both touched upon the prevalent themes of this chapter, choice and nature.

Choice. The first thing that struck me as noticeable was the scene where Elrond bestows a sacred "charge" upon the Company to stay with Frodo -- but only if they feel like it. “On the [Ringbearer] alone is any charge laid: neither to cast away the Ring, nor to deliver it to any servant of the Enemy nor indeed to let any handle it, save members of the Company and the Council, and only then in gravest need. The others go with him as free companions. You may tarry, or come back, or turn aside into other paths, as chance allows. .[. . .] No oath or bond is laid on you to go further than you will.”

Gimli notes that “Yet sworn word may strengthen quaking heart.” Elrond counters, “Or break it. Look not too far ahead.” (Quick side step: In stating "Look not too far ahead," Elrond points out that focusing on the task at hand is crucial to finishing a long project. I wonder if Tolkien, who hated writing Lord of the Rings, also shared this sentiment about the text that he was writing, and that we are now reading.)

So, in that quick interaction, Elrond was stating that the Company has no obligation except for Frodo. Yet, as Frodo expresses in the previous chapter, “I do not know the way.” I suspect that wise old Elrond knew that the power of the Ring was such that only those who went willingly would be of any assistance to Frodo. For such is the Ring’s power – one by one the Company begins to be corrupt, which is why Frodo leaves. Jacob uses a great metaphor of the Stalinist method of compulsion to win a war. However, I think that there is a difference between Stalin and a hypothetical Elrond that made the Company take an oath: the oath would be taken willingly, upon which a bond would be placed. So, oath or no, the choice to take the oath exists, and that is the difference between taking and oath and Stalin’s troops, who assuredly were drafted without any choice, and then shot for desertion. Here, the Company is willingly entering into a Quest to save the world. Personally, at this stage of the book, I think an Oath would have made a lot of sense. But again, Elrond might have known about the corruption of the Ring, and how Frodo might have to leave anyway. Even Frodo in the end was corrupted, and the story is won by the good guys because of mere chance. What seems strange though, if avoiding corruption is the goal of not having the Company taken an oath, is that only Frodo is given an oath. If oaths "break" quaking hearts, Frodo especially should not have been given an oath. 

 Hmm, after analyzing this out loud, I'm not sure if the oath bit makes any sense. It sure does sound poetic though, and it appeals to us freedom lovers, so maybe that's the point.

Nature. Ben and Jacob are using fancy words like pastoralism and naturalism and romanticism. I vaguely remember those terms when studying literature as an undergrad. I don't really remember what they mean, or how you want to label what occurred in this chapter, or what Tolkien is espousing, except to point out a few observations. As Jacob notes, nature is an obstacle in this text. This occurs in this chapter (the freezing mountain) as well as later chapters. For example, in later chapters, from the marshy bogs where Frodo passes through the dead , to the mountains into Mordor, to the giant spider that Frodo encounters in Return of the King, nature is simply nature. Cold (see the opening quote above), unforgiving, and deadly. In the end, that’s exactly what nature is. Only through mathematics, fire, and engineering have we learned to act some level of predictability to it, and comfort.

As for our roles in nature, pastoralism and naturalism and these other movements make arguments that relate to our role in nature, but I forget specifically what they argue. Also let’s not forget about the transcendentalists. (Interesting fact: when Thoreau was writing Walden and “living in the woods,” he actually would go home every weekend and get a home cooked meal from his mom. Most people don’t know that, and it undercuts his arguments in the text, but I digress.)

As for my own two cents, I enjoy hiking but I also enjoy modern medicine. I would not want to raise my own cattle and hoe in my garden (except for maybe a small garden later on in life). But some psychology studies suggest that our primitive brains have not evolved out of caveman years, and that our mental evolution has not caught up with our industrialized, urban world. So whatever the transcendentalists argued for, I would not give up running water to go live in a hut -- or freeze on Cadharas. Sorry, Thoreau, but you were wrong. Tolkien's descriptions of Cadharas I think has the right of it.