Chapter 1: The Tower of Cirith Ungol
I am intent on finishing the series this year. Sally forth friends.
I was explaining to my students the other day about how if they wanted good grades in my class, then their papers need to be detailed, specific, and use as much imagery as possible; one student then chirped up with, "So you want us to write like a fantasy novel? Like Lord of the Rings?" I smiled as I mentioned that I was currently re-reading the series myself. "Oh man, they're fantastic!" he enthused, to which I immediately responded, "Yes, but not flawless." For indeed, as we've catalogued throughout this blog, Tolkien's inconsistent-characterization, knotty-plotting, and slow-pacing have often been liabilities. "Nevertheless," I told him, "We are able to forgive a lot in Tolkien, precisely because he is so detailed--we can see Middle-Earth in our minds when we read it." That became my teaching moment, of how I likewise am willing to forgive a lot in freshmen writing, just so long as it is specific, imagistic, and clear (otherwise, my grading is ruthless).
This anecdote serves as a round-about way to say that this chapter, in many ways, is emblematic of the series as a whole: it goes on a little long, there's a rather needless poem shoehorned in, I'm not entirely sure what the Tower of Cirith Ungol even looks like or where everything is in relation to each other--nevertheless, I sure as heck know how it feels to be there: the foreboding, the hopelessness, the darkness both literal and metaphysical. I'm willing to forgive a lot in Tolkien's writing--including the little Laurel & Hardy routine in how Sam takes out that tripping Orc--because I can still picture what the place is like even after putting the book down.
One of the most spine-tingling details of Tolkien's portrait of the Tower is when Sam realizes that this place is intended to keep people in more than to keep them out. It was originally built by the men of Westernesse to keep an eye on Mordor, but even after Sauron commandeered it for himself, he still found it useful for preventing his innumerable slaves from escaping. Perhaps Tolkien was influenced by the then-current fall of the Iron Curtain, or the rise of the Berlin Wall, all of which were intended less to keep out the West than to keep people in; in any case, there is a horror in that detail, a feeling of entrapment, a sense of all of that's at stake.
But of course the most foreboding detail of all--after all of the Orc slaughters and vulture-faced stone-guardians and Nazguls surveilling overhead and shadows so complete you lose all sense of time--is also the most understated: the sudden reluctance with which Sam returns the Ring to Frodo, and the vehemence with which Frodo snatches it back, refuses to share its burden, and calls Sam a thief. Yes, Frodo immediately apologizes and Sam takes it in stride, but the message is alarmingly clear, in case anyone had forgotten it: even in the Land of Shadows, Frodo and Sam may still turn out to be their own worst enemies.
But then, such is the case with everyone in Mordor. For Tolkien also helpfully informs us that Sauron hasn't spotted them yet because the shadows he had created to disguise himself are now getting in his own way. Sauron is finding that he is his own worst enemy, too--and that levels the playing field somewhat.
Ben's Thoughts (3/15/17)
I've always found it a little bit silly that just when Sam needs access to the impregnable fortress, all the guards of said fortress murder each other. It's all very convenient, no? Of course, we can say it goes back to the theme of evil conquering itself, etc., and that the groundwork was laid at the end of the last book in Gorbag and Shagrat's conversation, yes, yes, it's true -- but nevertheless it seems like a bit of a copout. Chalk it up to plot reasons and move on, I guess.
An in-universe explanation, of course, is that Sauron's attention is directed elsewhere, namely, the battle of the Pelennor Fields. Orcs were never particularly reliable or trustworthy servants, and here that problem is clearly laid out. They're tribal to the extreme, so that when one leader gets into a tiff with another leader, the two tribes duke it out until nobody's left at all. Then the last man standing gets to have the first word with the boss about how the other guy was the "rebel" (to use Shagrat's words). I suppose it says something interesting about narratives; Snaga and Shagrat were concerned that Gorbag's men were the first ones to escape out the gate, because then they get to frame the narrative to the higher-ups. I wonder if this is something that happens regularly: a massive, pitched battle between two warring orc-factions that decimates the guard of a critically important structure designed to prevent anyone from sneaking into Mordor and, you know, destroying the Ring of Power. You'd think an evil overlord could find better help.
The textual clue that Shagrat is holding the mithril-coat and Sam's sword also kind of takes the sting away from the climax of Book V: the reader now knows that Frodo's safe and sound, at least for the moment, back with Sam, and that Sauron and his minions weren't really about to begin torturing Frodo when Gandalf and Co. reject their demands at the end of "Black Gate Opens." I vaguely remember feeling a little disappointed at some of the tension being taken out of these chapters when I realized that Frodo and Sam were fairly invulnerable, after all.
Of course, the text deals with more than just physical vulnerability. As Jacob pointed out, Frodo's sudden snap from grateful freed captive to crazed, Ring-addicted Gollum-figure is an abrupt one. In my mind, Frodo's ongoing PTSD after the Ring is destroyed is one of the most powerful themes of this final book. Tolkien also cleverly lays the foundation for the climax between Frodo, Sam, and Gollum here, as he has done throughout the entire text.
I will note that Sam's reluctance to give the Ring back to Frodo is, in the text, described this way: "Now it had come to it, Sam felt reluctant to give up the Ring and burden his master with it again." I appreciate this ambiguous line. Sam's concern for his master seems perfectly natural, and on the one hand, we did just witness Sam overcoming the Ring's temptation and press forward towards a more noble goal. It's tempting to think that his reluctance to hand over the Ring to its original bearer is nothing more than his own charitable impulse. But we know how the Ring operates. It's wholly insidious. If it can't claim an individual through outright, overt temptation, it works slowly from within to corrupt and destroy. It makes Sam's overtly self-sacrificing impulse take on a more sinister tone. Given enough time, the Ring could consume even the best of hobbits (as we of course see in the climax). And this theme of subtle corruption of course has its own real-life parallels. Our lives can take dangerous turns if we aren't constantly making proper course-corrections.
This chapter was very plot-heavy. We start grappling with more weighty issues, as the crushing weight of the Ring bears down on Frodo, starting in the next chapter.
Eric's Thoughts (7/4/17)
Am I reading the same book? It's as if going back to the hobbits gave Tolkien a second wind and jolted the novel with coffee + Red-Bull + methamphetamine. Tolkien takes the momentum from the last chapter and builds on it. Sam storms the castle, sings a magical song, a way is revealed, and up the stairs he goes to save Frodo.
When Frodo is finally reunited with Sam, the wine flows right? Wrong! Frodo recognizes the quest has failed, because, as Frodo explains, they took everything. Everything!
Not everything, Sam replies excitedly. We have the ring after all, Mr. Frodo!
Is Frodo excited about Sam's revelation? (Maybe a thank you Sam for saving it (and me) is in order? How about just a simple "Nice job, man"?)
Nope. In return for Sam's valiant efforts, Frodo calls Sam a thief and demands the return of the ring. But Sam is reluctant. Not out of anger at Mr. Frodo. Not because of a desire to claim the ring for his own. But because he purportedly felt that he did not want to burden Frodo with it again.
The ambiguity of Sam's reluctance to return the ring is a powerful moment in the story. What is going on here? Would Sam have been a better Ring-bearer? Or is the Ring toying with Sam? (As the reader knows, Gandalf himself admitted he would wield the ring out of a desire to do good, but the Ring inevitably would corrupt him.) Probably the latter. You see Sam being seduced like everyone else; the Ring is merely playing off of Sam's penchant for helping others. Sam just can't see it. We can. Brilliant.
Of course, what would a chapter be without watchers at the Gate? Now that the mini-quest is done, the hobbits have to escape with their boon. With a little bit of elf-mumbo-jumbo, out they go. After all, we've got to make use of that magical artifact provided by Galadriel somehow, right?
There's more going on here than just on the surface. Tolkien makes his language carry weight thematically and in terms of plot. I'll give two examples. First, Frodo has achieved death and rebirth within the hero's journey. At this point, the reader has watched Frodo die and become reborn . According to Campbell, the reader should now completely relate to Frodo and identify with him. (Perhaps there's something to that theory after all, as I certainly feel sympathy for what Frodo has been through and continue to root for him.) However, as an interesting twist, Frodo's death and rebirth does not result in a Christ-like or other demi-god hero. Instead, Frodo is even worse off. In fact, this scene foreshadows Frodo's transformation into a mini-villain. We take this for granted now, of course, but Tolkien's novel capturing the slow descent of Frodo into villain-dom is masterful.
Second, the mithril coat deserves honorable mention. In the previous scene, the Mouth of Sauron shows that the free world's position is truly hopeless. The orc's escape with the mithril coat adds a nice tie-up to that particular sub-plot, showing that the alliance is not necessarily fighting in vain. It's up to Frodo and Sam now. Can they do it? We shall see.
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