Chapter 6: The King of the Golden Hall
Jacob's Thoughts (5/15/15)
I'm of two minds about the "exorcism" of King Theoden by Gandalf.
In the Peter Jackson film version, Theoden is quite obviously under Saruman's spell by means of the nefarious Wormtongue, which influence Gandalf magically expels with his staff while his compatriots battle the guards empty-handed.
This of course is not how it goes down in the book.
But weirdly, it is the book that actually features the more cinematic scene, what with Gandalf revealing his white-robes and glowing in the dark and blackening the skylights and summoning thunder and striking down Wormtongue in a sudden flash of righteous lightning!
Yet I also understand why Jackson opted for the less "cinematic", sturm und drangclimax to this scene, because, quite frankly...what just happened? How did striking Wormtongue with lightning free the king, exactly? I understand that Tolkien here was making some sort of commentary about all those smooth-tongued operators in our lives who play on our fears and vanities to manipulate us, but how does a literal flash-in-the-pan light-show and a little fresh air undo (what sounds like) literal years of rhetorical connivings? (For crying out loud, the man had been talked into imprisoning his own nephew!).
Far more believable is the idea that Theoden was under an actual spell--and not just a spell of flattering words--which Gandalf liberates him from. In my experience, most folks don't just give up everything they've been told over night. I'm gonna have to side with the Jackson version on this one.
Moreover, Gandalf's victory over Saruman has a rather satisfying full-circle feel to it in the film; it's a sort of vindication, a knock-out punch against the same foe who handed his butt to him in Fellowship. Given that Gandalf and Saruman will never have another rematch, this was as opportune a moment as any for the wizard to have his Rocky moment.
Not that I disliked this chapter or anything--in fact, I was actually rather pleased when they allow Wormtongue the option to either ride with them into battle, or ride back to Saruman--but in either case he is free to choose. Theoden even instructs his men to follow him to make he does not do anymore damage, but not to hinder him. A lesser novel would have had Theoden or Gandalf strike down Wormtongue in a self-righteous fury. It takes real moral fortitude to demonstrate the level of magnanimity we get instead. As we've discussed before, Sauron's goal is to exercise complete control, such that no one has a choice--hence, if our heroes are gonna be the actual heroes, then they are gonna have to make sure that everyone has a choice. Including to their enemies.
It is easy to grant freedom to your friends, but the real test is whether you can grant freedom to your enemies, including such obvious dirtbags as Wormtongue. As the past decade and a half of U.S. foreign policy has demonstrated, the moment we lower to the level of our enemies, is the moment when we lose all moral authority. Tolkien here knows better.
Ben's Thoughts (7/6/15)
The Rohirrim as a people always seemed a little bland to me. I think Tolkien does a fine job of capturing the singularity of the Elves and (to a lesser but still present extent) the Dwarves, but Men, for some reason, are basically just stick figures.
Jacob already compared this chapter to Jackson's film, and I agree with his sentiments -- here I'm left wondering what exactly did Gandalf do to free Theoden from Grima's influence -- and would like to add that Jackson did a wonderful job of characterizing Theoden and Eowyn. The movie characters feel like real people whereas here they are just cardboard cutouts. Eowyn, granted, will receive more characterization from Tolkien in Book 5, but Jackson wisely made her a major character in the second film. Here she just swoons over Aragorn (while he looks "troubled") and stands stoically at the doors of Meduseld while the men ride away to war (Tolkien gives with one hand, in allowing Eowyn to command the household in her relatives' absence, but then takes away with the other, with that final, traditional glimpse of the lonely woman in the empty house).
Theoden, as well, comes across in the films as a complex and realistic character. He grieves over his son's death, he is in turn defiant and defeated by the war that is coming to him unbidden. There is a marvelous scene in the film that is comprised of quick cuts between the Uruk-hai marching on Helm's Deep and Theoden being dressed in his armor by his guards, with Theoden reciting the poem that Aragorn relates to the gang throughout. The poem is marvelously depressing, and the lighting and editing of the scene is simply masterful. Theoden finishes the recital (omitting the last two lines from the text version) with the statement, "How did it come to this?" Gives me chills every time, with the follow-up images of the orcs' banners blotting out the sun. Of course, the movie manages to dilute the emotions of that scene with something like an hour and a half of orcs getting hacked to pieces by Our Heroes, so there's that. But the characterization and staging of that scene encapsulate some of the beautiful work Jackson put into the trilogy.
In comparison, Tolkien places the poem at the beginning of the chapter. It is still marvelously depressing; the poem talks about how Eorl the Young, the legendary forefather of the Rohirrim, is both an inspiring figure and long dead. The implication of course is that the long years have brought an end to countless generations of Eorls, who will not and cannot return. Legolas underscores the sorrow of the poem with his comment that even without understanding the words, " 'it is laden with the sadness of Mortal Men' ", thus translating that sorrow to the plight of Men in general.
It is interesting that Tolkien begins the chapter introducing the first kingdom of Men that the gang encounters with this rumination on the fleeting and transitory nature of human life. He certainly draws out the differences between the Elvish kingdoms and that of Rohan; the dark halls and almost buffoonish guards surrounding Theoden are a sharp contrast to what the reader remembers of the grace of the Elves in Lorien or Rivendell. But what is he trying to say by drawing our attention to these differences? If I recall, this meditation on human life does not extend into later chapters, which are more interested in taking care of Saruman and moving the gang on down the road to Gondor. I'll have to watch the Rohirrim closely in future chapters. They are certainly depicted as less High and connected to otherworldliness than the men of Gondor. It's just strange that Tolkien begins the chapter with such a somber meditation and then drops it in favor of Eomer's downright jolliness at the end.
I don't have a whole lot to say about the rest of the chapter. Gandalf isn't particularly creepy here; he doesn't bother to sleep at the beginning of the chapter, but then, neither does Aragorn. The dangerous power he displayed in the last chapter is fairly roundly dispelled by the Rohirrim taking him as their mascot at the end of the chapter ("Our king and the White Rider!") Onward to Helm's Deep, I guess.
Eric's Thoughts (7/11/15)
I couldn't help but notice how flat all the characters are in this chapter. Something about these good guys just rings hollow. When Gimli threatens again to start a pointless bout, and Aragon gets upset about his sword being touched, I felt myself resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Not again, I thought. Surely Tolkien could push the boundaries of character development farther than that. Not so.
Thank goodness for Grima Wormtongue. Finally evil that seems palpable! The whole story we're just hearing about this protean threat that is brewing in a far off distant land. Even the dark riders -- they're nothing but creepy headless horsemen that have good noses. But Grima finally represents an evil that is much more sinister than the black-and-white, good/evil Balrog/Gandalf confrontations we're having. In this chapter, Gandalf and Wormtongue essentially battle wits for the ear of a king. Grima is smart, and eloquent. I found myself rooting for him in this chapter, especially since I knew that Gandalf would cheat.
Indeed, Gandalf doesn't win by intelligence. Rather, he implements a wizard-cheat-code and uses his staff to reign holy light from the sky. It's still a fun confrontation, but I would have liked to see Gandalf win on the merits.
Grima is fun because he represents the true strength of Mordor -- that the good guys can't even agree amongst themselves. Mordor, while supposedly evil, at least is united and strong in purpose. Grima represents the opposite of this.
As an aside, I wonder what Sauron's point of view from all this is? Is he really even all that bad as the protagonists make him out to be? Perhaps all he's trying to do is eliminate the annoying Gimli's in the world, so that less page-time is devoted to growling about insults to honor and drawing an axe in response. In light of all that, Grima Wormtongue actually seemed pretty reasonable, and I thought made a few good points.
The highlight of the whole chapter is when Wormtongue is faced with the unbearable thought of spending more time with these self-righteous prigs, or fleeing. Having had enough, he rightfully chose to get the heck out of there, his eyes flashing madness at the hopeless thought of spending more time with Gimli and Co.
I'm of two minds about the "exorcism" of King Theoden by Gandalf.
In the Peter Jackson film version, Theoden is quite obviously under Saruman's spell by means of the nefarious Wormtongue, which influence Gandalf magically expels with his staff while his compatriots battle the guards empty-handed.
This of course is not how it goes down in the book.
But weirdly, it is the book that actually features the more cinematic scene, what with Gandalf revealing his white-robes and glowing in the dark and blackening the skylights and summoning thunder and striking down Wormtongue in a sudden flash of righteous lightning!
Yet I also understand why Jackson opted for the less "cinematic", sturm und drangclimax to this scene, because, quite frankly...what just happened? How did striking Wormtongue with lightning free the king, exactly? I understand that Tolkien here was making some sort of commentary about all those smooth-tongued operators in our lives who play on our fears and vanities to manipulate us, but how does a literal flash-in-the-pan light-show and a little fresh air undo (what sounds like) literal years of rhetorical connivings? (For crying out loud, the man had been talked into imprisoning his own nephew!).
Far more believable is the idea that Theoden was under an actual spell--and not just a spell of flattering words--which Gandalf liberates him from. In my experience, most folks don't just give up everything they've been told over night. I'm gonna have to side with the Jackson version on this one.
Moreover, Gandalf's victory over Saruman has a rather satisfying full-circle feel to it in the film; it's a sort of vindication, a knock-out punch against the same foe who handed his butt to him in Fellowship. Given that Gandalf and Saruman will never have another rematch, this was as opportune a moment as any for the wizard to have his Rocky moment.
Not that I disliked this chapter or anything--in fact, I was actually rather pleased when they allow Wormtongue the option to either ride with them into battle, or ride back to Saruman--but in either case he is free to choose. Theoden even instructs his men to follow him to make he does not do anymore damage, but not to hinder him. A lesser novel would have had Theoden or Gandalf strike down Wormtongue in a self-righteous fury. It takes real moral fortitude to demonstrate the level of magnanimity we get instead. As we've discussed before, Sauron's goal is to exercise complete control, such that no one has a choice--hence, if our heroes are gonna be the actual heroes, then they are gonna have to make sure that everyone has a choice. Including to their enemies.
It is easy to grant freedom to your friends, but the real test is whether you can grant freedom to your enemies, including such obvious dirtbags as Wormtongue. As the past decade and a half of U.S. foreign policy has demonstrated, the moment we lower to the level of our enemies, is the moment when we lose all moral authority. Tolkien here knows better.
Ben's Thoughts (7/6/15)
The Rohirrim as a people always seemed a little bland to me. I think Tolkien does a fine job of capturing the singularity of the Elves and (to a lesser but still present extent) the Dwarves, but Men, for some reason, are basically just stick figures.
Jacob already compared this chapter to Jackson's film, and I agree with his sentiments -- here I'm left wondering what exactly did Gandalf do to free Theoden from Grima's influence -- and would like to add that Jackson did a wonderful job of characterizing Theoden and Eowyn. The movie characters feel like real people whereas here they are just cardboard cutouts. Eowyn, granted, will receive more characterization from Tolkien in Book 5, but Jackson wisely made her a major character in the second film. Here she just swoons over Aragorn (while he looks "troubled") and stands stoically at the doors of Meduseld while the men ride away to war (Tolkien gives with one hand, in allowing Eowyn to command the household in her relatives' absence, but then takes away with the other, with that final, traditional glimpse of the lonely woman in the empty house).
Theoden, as well, comes across in the films as a complex and realistic character. He grieves over his son's death, he is in turn defiant and defeated by the war that is coming to him unbidden. There is a marvelous scene in the film that is comprised of quick cuts between the Uruk-hai marching on Helm's Deep and Theoden being dressed in his armor by his guards, with Theoden reciting the poem that Aragorn relates to the gang throughout. The poem is marvelously depressing, and the lighting and editing of the scene is simply masterful. Theoden finishes the recital (omitting the last two lines from the text version) with the statement, "How did it come to this?" Gives me chills every time, with the follow-up images of the orcs' banners blotting out the sun. Of course, the movie manages to dilute the emotions of that scene with something like an hour and a half of orcs getting hacked to pieces by Our Heroes, so there's that. But the characterization and staging of that scene encapsulate some of the beautiful work Jackson put into the trilogy.
In comparison, Tolkien places the poem at the beginning of the chapter. It is still marvelously depressing; the poem talks about how Eorl the Young, the legendary forefather of the Rohirrim, is both an inspiring figure and long dead. The implication of course is that the long years have brought an end to countless generations of Eorls, who will not and cannot return. Legolas underscores the sorrow of the poem with his comment that even without understanding the words, " 'it is laden with the sadness of Mortal Men' ", thus translating that sorrow to the plight of Men in general.
It is interesting that Tolkien begins the chapter introducing the first kingdom of Men that the gang encounters with this rumination on the fleeting and transitory nature of human life. He certainly draws out the differences between the Elvish kingdoms and that of Rohan; the dark halls and almost buffoonish guards surrounding Theoden are a sharp contrast to what the reader remembers of the grace of the Elves in Lorien or Rivendell. But what is he trying to say by drawing our attention to these differences? If I recall, this meditation on human life does not extend into later chapters, which are more interested in taking care of Saruman and moving the gang on down the road to Gondor. I'll have to watch the Rohirrim closely in future chapters. They are certainly depicted as less High and connected to otherworldliness than the men of Gondor. It's just strange that Tolkien begins the chapter with such a somber meditation and then drops it in favor of Eomer's downright jolliness at the end.
I don't have a whole lot to say about the rest of the chapter. Gandalf isn't particularly creepy here; he doesn't bother to sleep at the beginning of the chapter, but then, neither does Aragorn. The dangerous power he displayed in the last chapter is fairly roundly dispelled by the Rohirrim taking him as their mascot at the end of the chapter ("Our king and the White Rider!") Onward to Helm's Deep, I guess.
Eric's Thoughts (7/11/15)
I couldn't help but notice how flat all the characters are in this chapter. Something about these good guys just rings hollow. When Gimli threatens again to start a pointless bout, and Aragon gets upset about his sword being touched, I felt myself resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Not again, I thought. Surely Tolkien could push the boundaries of character development farther than that. Not so.
Thank goodness for Grima Wormtongue. Finally evil that seems palpable! The whole story we're just hearing about this protean threat that is brewing in a far off distant land. Even the dark riders -- they're nothing but creepy headless horsemen that have good noses. But Grima finally represents an evil that is much more sinister than the black-and-white, good/evil Balrog/Gandalf confrontations we're having. In this chapter, Gandalf and Wormtongue essentially battle wits for the ear of a king. Grima is smart, and eloquent. I found myself rooting for him in this chapter, especially since I knew that Gandalf would cheat.
Indeed, Gandalf doesn't win by intelligence. Rather, he implements a wizard-cheat-code and uses his staff to reign holy light from the sky. It's still a fun confrontation, but I would have liked to see Gandalf win on the merits.
Grima is fun because he represents the true strength of Mordor -- that the good guys can't even agree amongst themselves. Mordor, while supposedly evil, at least is united and strong in purpose. Grima represents the opposite of this.
As an aside, I wonder what Sauron's point of view from all this is? Is he really even all that bad as the protagonists make him out to be? Perhaps all he's trying to do is eliminate the annoying Gimli's in the world, so that less page-time is devoted to growling about insults to honor and drawing an axe in response. In light of all that, Grima Wormtongue actually seemed pretty reasonable, and I thought made a few good points.
The highlight of the whole chapter is when Wormtongue is faced with the unbearable thought of spending more time with these self-righteous prigs, or fleeing. Having had enough, he rightfully chose to get the heck out of there, his eyes flashing madness at the hopeless thought of spending more time with Gimli and Co.
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