Chapter 8: Fog on the Barrow-Downs
Jacob's Thoughts (3/21/14)
To borrow a line from the film: "I have no memory of this place."
Even as it's been ages since I last read Fellowship of the Ring, yet still its basic contours and plot beats have felt familiar to me throughout this re-reading--that is, right up til this chapter. For whatever reason, I had just assumed that Frodo and company exited the Old Forest directly to the Prancing Pony, where we could then get on with the main narrative. I had completely forgotten the Barrow-Downs episode. Hence, this tangent with the Barrow-wights and the fog was all as disorienting and strange to me as it apparently was to the Hobbits.
To pick up a thread from Eric, this sort of side adventure feels structurally out of place--fine in and of itself, and very expertly done in terms of tone and description and feel, but really doing very little to either develop the characters or move the plot forward. To paraphrase an earlier comment by Ben, this is the sort of random episode that would fit in a novel like The Hobbit, not the sort epic that Tolkien himself perhaps did not yet realize he was actually making (I may have to rescind my earlier optimism that Tolkien had this series all planned out from the beginning).
Moreover, my impatience with Tom Bombadil increases here, because this chapter reveals his real value, how helpful he could actually be, his knack for arriving at their darkest moment, only for that help to literally never come up again! The Wights, too, while genuinely chilling and threatening, likewise never return to trouble our heroes. They are not apparent agents of Sauron, nor do they appear to have any motivations more profound than that of a common mugger. The Wights aren't foreshadowing, no: they're just dry runs.
I suppose one could make the argument that dry runs is exactly what this chapter is supposed to be: our domestic little hobbits really have no idea what dangers await them, and they need this practice, and these guides, to help break them into the epic they must soon inhabit. They will face far worst than the Old Forest, and that alone, so first they must face the Forest, and that with a kind guide for now to help them out when they get stuck. Tom Bombadil is the training wheels, so to speak. Also, the Wights are nowhere near as frightening as the Black Riders, but they are still pretty frightening, and so the hobbits must learn how to encounter them before they can level up to the Black Riders, in a manner of speaking.
I suppose, in this more charitable reading, "Fog on the Barrow-Downs" is more about Frodo learning something about himself, of the courage he is capable of, than it is about any of these seeming inconsequential side-quests. Frodo had to learn something about Frodo, I suppose. As Tolkien himself writes:
"There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it, Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought hardened him. He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey" (pg. 194).
That passage clarified much about the hobbits--and especially Frodo--for me, particularly for why Gandalf seemed to place such implicit faith in them, and for that reason alone I am grateful for this chapter. Perhaps all these sill side-quests out of the Shire were just an inadvertent training ground, to toughen up our little hobbits for the big adventure ahead of them.
But now, as we at last approach the sign of the Prancing Pony, the training wheels come off. There will be no more Tom Bombadil's to rescue the hobbits at the last second, and no more enemies that are merely mischievous but not actively malicious, like the Trees and the Wights. Here's hoping that from here on out, we formally abandon the episodic-structure of The Hobbit, and that the stakes begin to feel real.
Ben's Thoughts (3/21/14)
This chapter concludes the "Tom Bombadil Trilogy." Like I said before, I think that these three chapters would make an excellent stand-alone short story about some unsuspecting Hobbits' trials and travails getting to Bree to visit family (or maybe a particularly adventurous Took searching for the Barrow-downs' treasure). But they don't serve a lot of narrative purpose in LOTR. I did think that Jacob's thought about how these chapters prepare the Hobbits, especially Frodo, for the horrors to come has some merit. I just don't think it's entirely worth derailing everything to get there.
This chapter, while probably the most interesting plot-wise of the three, is not without its own problems. I feel that the major ones are of tone. The chapter bounces back and forth between hokey silliness (both in terms of Tom and the quasi-horror vibe from inside the Barrow) to quite beautiful descriptions to ominous foreboding, often quick enough for the reader to feel whiplash. Let's get down to brass tacks.
The chapter opens with the Hobbits' farewell to Tom and Goldberry. Tom gets such a perfunctory goodbye that even the most casual reader surely must be alerted "we're going to see him again!", especially after all the muckety-mucking about how spoooooky the Barrow-downs are. I have to roll my eyes, however, with respect to Frodo's goodbye to Goldberry -- his distress at not seeing her before he leaves seems either pathetic (a la the best-friend-in-love-with-your-wife) or cribbed from the "chivalry files" of mid-20th century Britain, where the sight of the pure, pedestal-enshrined woman gives the weary wanderer such hope and fortitude for the coming journey that he cannot do without that final glimpse. My eye-roll might be less pronounced with respect to option 2 if Frodo ever gave Goldberry a second thought. Since he does not, I suppose we are forced to conclude that he just thought Goldberry was really hot. Plus -- she "danced"? What, was she really dancing up there?
Anyway. On a more positive note, the description of the landscape from the top of Goldberry's hill is really quite stunning. I remember many times in my life where I've looked out from a height and been flabbergasted by the enormity and beauty of the world around me, and Tolkien manages to capture this feeling rather well, in my opinion. I feel obligated to quote the passage in full:
From this point, the tone shifts into "foreboding" mode, with the gathering fog and the indistinct goals of the line of shrubs the Hobbits see in the distance. This middle section is (barring a description at the very end) the best part of the chapter, as Tolkien effectively ratchets up the tension, separates Frodo from his sidekicks, and finally punctuates everything with Frodo's miserable exclamation of "Where are you?" This line is followed by one of the best uses of a section break that I've seen in literature, as it adds a hefty punch to how alone Frodo is and how final that feeling is brought home to him.
But things have to get weird from here -- Frodo is captured by the Barrow-wight (what exactly the Wights are, as Jacob points out, is never really explained. Sauron's influence is somehow involved, because they started popping up (like daisies!) when his influence grows in Mirkwood, we learned from Gandalf in Chapter 2, but since they used to be Men of the West, that seems a little inconsistent) and we have the "dance of the creepy hand" and the unpleasant thought of the Wight de-robing Sam, Merry, and Pippin and playing dress-up with them so they can better resemble ritual sacrifice. (Don't pretend you weren't unnerved when Tom says later, "you won't find your clothes again.") Maybe creepy crawly hands were scarier back in the day, but I don't think I was ever unnerved by the green light and the hand, even when I read this for the first time when I was, like, 10 years old. And what is with the hand, anyway? The sense of space in the Barrow is not really conveyed well -- is it severed even before Frodo whacks it? Is the Barrow's arm stretching, like Mister Fantastic, as it creeps towards the sword? In any case, Frodo musters some courage (an admittedly nice bit of character development, shame the other Hobbits don't get any) and then summons Tom to save the day.
My writing on this chapter has proved a bit more snarky than I had originally envisioned, so I will end things on a high note. The vision the Hobbits share about the Men of Arnor when Tom gives them the swords is perhaps the first time in these books that Tolkien manages to convey (as he does so beautifully later on) the powerful weight of history, as well as the sadness and joy of existence, that accompanies the people of Middle-earth. I can't think of a better way to describe the Númenoreans that how it is handled here:
Eric's Thoughts (4/12/14)
Tolkien describes:
To borrow a line from the film: "I have no memory of this place."
Even as it's been ages since I last read Fellowship of the Ring, yet still its basic contours and plot beats have felt familiar to me throughout this re-reading--that is, right up til this chapter. For whatever reason, I had just assumed that Frodo and company exited the Old Forest directly to the Prancing Pony, where we could then get on with the main narrative. I had completely forgotten the Barrow-Downs episode. Hence, this tangent with the Barrow-wights and the fog was all as disorienting and strange to me as it apparently was to the Hobbits.
To pick up a thread from Eric, this sort of side adventure feels structurally out of place--fine in and of itself, and very expertly done in terms of tone and description and feel, but really doing very little to either develop the characters or move the plot forward. To paraphrase an earlier comment by Ben, this is the sort of random episode that would fit in a novel like The Hobbit, not the sort epic that Tolkien himself perhaps did not yet realize he was actually making (I may have to rescind my earlier optimism that Tolkien had this series all planned out from the beginning).
Moreover, my impatience with Tom Bombadil increases here, because this chapter reveals his real value, how helpful he could actually be, his knack for arriving at their darkest moment, only for that help to literally never come up again! The Wights, too, while genuinely chilling and threatening, likewise never return to trouble our heroes. They are not apparent agents of Sauron, nor do they appear to have any motivations more profound than that of a common mugger. The Wights aren't foreshadowing, no: they're just dry runs.
I suppose one could make the argument that dry runs is exactly what this chapter is supposed to be: our domestic little hobbits really have no idea what dangers await them, and they need this practice, and these guides, to help break them into the epic they must soon inhabit. They will face far worst than the Old Forest, and that alone, so first they must face the Forest, and that with a kind guide for now to help them out when they get stuck. Tom Bombadil is the training wheels, so to speak. Also, the Wights are nowhere near as frightening as the Black Riders, but they are still pretty frightening, and so the hobbits must learn how to encounter them before they can level up to the Black Riders, in a manner of speaking.
I suppose, in this more charitable reading, "Fog on the Barrow-Downs" is more about Frodo learning something about himself, of the courage he is capable of, than it is about any of these seeming inconsequential side-quests. Frodo had to learn something about Frodo, I suppose. As Tolkien himself writes:
"There is a seed of courage hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid hobbit, waiting for some final and desperate danger to make it grow. Frodo was neither very fat nor very timid; indeed, though he did not know it, Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought hardened him. He found himself stiffening, as if for a final spring; he no longer felt limp like a helpless prey" (pg. 194).
That passage clarified much about the hobbits--and especially Frodo--for me, particularly for why Gandalf seemed to place such implicit faith in them, and for that reason alone I am grateful for this chapter. Perhaps all these sill side-quests out of the Shire were just an inadvertent training ground, to toughen up our little hobbits for the big adventure ahead of them.
But now, as we at last approach the sign of the Prancing Pony, the training wheels come off. There will be no more Tom Bombadil's to rescue the hobbits at the last second, and no more enemies that are merely mischievous but not actively malicious, like the Trees and the Wights. Here's hoping that from here on out, we formally abandon the episodic-structure of The Hobbit, and that the stakes begin to feel real.
Ben's Thoughts (3/21/14)
This chapter concludes the "Tom Bombadil Trilogy." Like I said before, I think that these three chapters would make an excellent stand-alone short story about some unsuspecting Hobbits' trials and travails getting to Bree to visit family (or maybe a particularly adventurous Took searching for the Barrow-downs' treasure). But they don't serve a lot of narrative purpose in LOTR. I did think that Jacob's thought about how these chapters prepare the Hobbits, especially Frodo, for the horrors to come has some merit. I just don't think it's entirely worth derailing everything to get there.
This chapter, while probably the most interesting plot-wise of the three, is not without its own problems. I feel that the major ones are of tone. The chapter bounces back and forth between hokey silliness (both in terms of Tom and the quasi-horror vibe from inside the Barrow) to quite beautiful descriptions to ominous foreboding, often quick enough for the reader to feel whiplash. Let's get down to brass tacks.
The chapter opens with the Hobbits' farewell to Tom and Goldberry. Tom gets such a perfunctory goodbye that even the most casual reader surely must be alerted "we're going to see him again!", especially after all the muckety-mucking about how spoooooky the Barrow-downs are. I have to roll my eyes, however, with respect to Frodo's goodbye to Goldberry -- his distress at not seeing her before he leaves seems either pathetic (a la the best-friend-in-love-with-your-wife) or cribbed from the "chivalry files" of mid-20th century Britain, where the sight of the pure, pedestal-enshrined woman gives the weary wanderer such hope and fortitude for the coming journey that he cannot do without that final glimpse. My eye-roll might be less pronounced with respect to option 2 if Frodo ever gave Goldberry a second thought. Since he does not, I suppose we are forced to conclude that he just thought Goldberry was really hot. Plus -- she "danced"? What, was she really dancing up there?
Anyway. On a more positive note, the description of the landscape from the top of Goldberry's hill is really quite stunning. I remember many times in my life where I've looked out from a height and been flabbergasted by the enormity and beauty of the world around me, and Tolkien manages to capture this feeling rather well, in my opinion. I feel obligated to quote the passage in full:
"In [the West] the land rose in wooded ridges, green, yellow, russet under the sun, beyond which lay hidden the valley of the Brandywine. To the South, over the line of the Withywindle, there was a distant glint like pale glass where the Brandywine River made a great loop in the lowlands . . . . Northward beyond the dwindling downs the land ran away in flats and swellings of grey and green and pale earth-colours, until it faded into a featureless and shadowy distance. Eastward the Barrow-downs rose, ridge upon ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into a guess: it was no more than a guess of blue and a remote white glimmer blending with the hem of the sky, but it spoke to them, out of memory and old tales, of the high and distant mountains."Of course, away from Tom's rescuing presence, the Hobbits quickly find themselves out of their depth. At lunchtime, they quite stupidly take a nap near the standing stone, and for all of the description of how sinister that hollow is where they park for a break, there's no hint of foul magical play going on like there was with Old Man Willow. So basically they fell for the same trick twice, but this time nobody was exerting any kind of influence over them -- they were just dumb and fell asleep. That's not likely to endear a reader to the intelligence of Our Heroes, Professor Tolkien. Oh well.
From this point, the tone shifts into "foreboding" mode, with the gathering fog and the indistinct goals of the line of shrubs the Hobbits see in the distance. This middle section is (barring a description at the very end) the best part of the chapter, as Tolkien effectively ratchets up the tension, separates Frodo from his sidekicks, and finally punctuates everything with Frodo's miserable exclamation of "Where are you?" This line is followed by one of the best uses of a section break that I've seen in literature, as it adds a hefty punch to how alone Frodo is and how final that feeling is brought home to him.
But things have to get weird from here -- Frodo is captured by the Barrow-wight (what exactly the Wights are, as Jacob points out, is never really explained. Sauron's influence is somehow involved, because they started popping up (like daisies!) when his influence grows in Mirkwood, we learned from Gandalf in Chapter 2, but since they used to be Men of the West, that seems a little inconsistent) and we have the "dance of the creepy hand" and the unpleasant thought of the Wight de-robing Sam, Merry, and Pippin and playing dress-up with them so they can better resemble ritual sacrifice. (Don't pretend you weren't unnerved when Tom says later, "you won't find your clothes again.") Maybe creepy crawly hands were scarier back in the day, but I don't think I was ever unnerved by the green light and the hand, even when I read this for the first time when I was, like, 10 years old. And what is with the hand, anyway? The sense of space in the Barrow is not really conveyed well -- is it severed even before Frodo whacks it? Is the Barrow's arm stretching, like Mister Fantastic, as it creeps towards the sword? In any case, Frodo musters some courage (an admittedly nice bit of character development, shame the other Hobbits don't get any) and then summons Tom to save the day.
My writing on this chapter has proved a bit more snarky than I had originally envisioned, so I will end things on a high note. The vision the Hobbits share about the Men of Arnor when Tom gives them the swords is perhaps the first time in these books that Tolkien manages to convey (as he does so beautifully later on) the powerful weight of history, as well as the sadness and joy of existence, that accompanies the people of Middle-earth. I can't think of a better way to describe the Númenoreans that how it is handled here:
"As he spoke they had a vision as it were of a great expanse of years behind them, like a vast shadowy plain over which there strode shapes of Men, tall and grim with bright swords, and last came one with a star on his brow."What better way to foreshadow the arrival of Aragorn, the "son of forgotten kings," as Tom puts it, than with this vision? These Men, Aragorn's ancestors, did not lead pleasant lives -- but they were unbowed and stalwart. And life is a lot like that, in my opinion (for LDS folks, this certainly recalls Lehi's dream to me). A shadowy field, that makes one grim at times, but the challenge is about presenting yourself unbowed before the things life slings at you. Kudos, Tolkien, for invoking these kinds of thoughts in me on the umpteenth re-read of this book. What you had to say really resonated with me.
Eric's Thoughts (4/12/14)
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.
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