The final chapter of The Lord of the Rings never fails to put chills through me, because of its beauty, poignancy, and staggering sense of inevitability.
Frodo has long since realized that he cannot retain this "dream" he had, of comfortable life in the Shire. He is too damaged, too changed by his experiences to do so. This fact is something that the Wise--Gandalf, Elrond, Galadriel--have been hinting and and telling him about practically since the first moment he realized that Bilbo's "ring" was in fact the "Ring"--the Ring of Power of the Dark Lord of Mordor. Taking part in the Quest irrevocably changed him.
But the touching thing about this change is that Frodo accepts it. He doesn't rail against it, or try to cling to his old life. He doesn't hang on to the Deputy Mayorship and push poor old Will Whitfoot aside in a desperate attempt to retain a place in the Shire. No--slowly, he diminishes, just as Galadriel said she would diminish (and yet, "remain Galadriel"--a powerful message to anyone engaged in that sort of struggle. You can lose yourself in trying to hang onto some past version of yourself). He moves aside for Pippin, and Merry, and Sam, and their descendants, and the new generation of hobbit-children that fill the Shire. He stays just long enough to record his account of what happened in the war and pass it on to Sam, who will hopefully in turn pass it on to his descendants. And then he moves on to the next great adventure. I think that is a strong message to all of us about letting go and moving on.
But that of course leaves us with Sam, standing in many ways alone on the shore, listening to the waves and watching where the ship vanished over the horizon long after the light of Galadriel faded into the darkness. Parting is one of the hardest things we ever do in life. Being separated from those we love, separated in time from experiences we have cherished. The loss of those memories, those people, those places is powerful; it's something that stays with us. As Sam says, we feel torn in two. We know that we must move forward, that we have joys and responsibilities and relationships in the here and now; but something continues to tug on us, pulling us back, causing us to look over our shoulder.
I think Tolkien is telling us that it's all right to keep looking over your shoulder. Far from the story of Lot's wife, we are not going to be turned into a pillar of salt for keeping these feelings, these experiences, these memories close to us. It is true: on the one hand, too much reliance on past experiences and relationships can hamper those we have in the present. But on the other, if they inform and support rather than consume, they can be used as founts of strength, information, experience, and empathy to buoy us up rather than drag us down.
This all sounds very trite when I read it back over. But Tolkien has managed to capture powerful essences of our human experience and portray them in plot and narrative. It's a rare author who manages to do this for me. This feels real to me, unlike so much other literature which instead feels like a pale copy, if it's striving to capture anything at all.
As I stand with Sam there on the shores of Middle-earth, I think about my quests, my adventures, and the ones that I have yet to experience. Tolkien has managed, once again, to assist me in my travels.
Not trite at all, I found your final chapter recap to be especially affecting.
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