The Lord of the Rings Revisited

Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Past

Jacob's Thoughts (2/7/14)

I was a sensitive child growing up--and often a frightened one.  Thank goodness I had such kind, nurturing parents growing up, or who knows how I might have turned out.  I suspect my parents suspected it to, for unlike Eric and Ben, I wasn't introduced to the unsettling world of The Hobbit till the ripe old age of 10, which I dutifully read mainly to please my parents.  My Mom immediately encouraged me to move on to The Lord of the Rings right after, in what part of me suspects was an attempt to toughen me up.

I mention this because, after the whimsy and fun of The Hobbit and "A Long Expected Party," the tone takes a decidedly darker turn in "The Shadow of the Past."  There are rumors of Dark Lords returning, Dwarves and Elves are immigrating to havens, and magic rings that were just prankish toys a novel ago suddenly have such alarming side-effects as enslaving your mind and thinning you out of existence, leaving you an invisible ghost sans body, sans soul (a thought I found horrifying even just a day ago, let alone as a quiet 10-year-old).  As Ben noted, the playful morning smoke-rings of Gandalf with Bilbo in The Hobbit has been replaced by a brooding fireplace with Frodo at night, discussing the advancing darkness.  The contrast couldn't be clearer.  As of chapter 2, Tolkien has fired his warning shots: we are no longer in children's novel territory; the easily terrified need not apply.

Though my memories of my first reading are sadly dimmer than Ben and Eric's, I do remember having the distinct impression by pg. 100 that if I was going to finish this series (if for no other reason than to not disappoint Mom), then I would have to steel myself mentally for this long journey in the same way Frodo must here.  Nowadays, I can read, say, House of Leaves or Samuel Beckett without qualm, but it was a long road getting here, and I do think it started with my first reading of Lord of the Rings.

Of course, this chapter isn't all darkness, not totally--Gandalf makes three observations about Bilbo's stewardship of the Ring that gives us hope for not only Frodo, but also for the existence of basic goodness in this world.

First: on the topic of Bilbo's final renunciation of the Ring, Gandalf says, "For he gave it up in the end of his own accord: an important point." After several pages on how the Ring can obsess your mind and waste your body, this reassurance that one can still break one's addiction to this most awful of drugs really is encouraging.

Second: in response to Frodo's cry of "what a pity that Bilbo didn't kill Gollum when he had the chance," Gandalf replies, "Pity?  It was pity that stayed his hand.  Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need.  And he has been well rewarded, Frodo.  Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so.  With Pity."  A more cruel novel might have punished every good deed, as Bilbo's pity inadvertently betrays the entire Shire; but here Gandalf (and presumably Tolkien too) wants to make sure the point is not lost, that no act of decency is ever wasted.  (And in case any one wondered if Tolkien had planned out the entire series from the beginning before writing, Gandalf's "the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many--yours not least" is a strong clue to the affirmative!)

Third, and most important: as Gandolf explains, "The Ring was trying to get back to its master.  It had slipped from Isildur's hand and betrayed him; then when a chance came it caught poor Deagol, and he was murdered; and after that Gollum, and it had devoured him.  It could make no further use of him...So now, when its master was awake once more and sending out his dark thought from Mirkwood, it abandonded Gollum.  Only to be picked up by the most unlikely person imaginable: Bilbo from the Shire!"

Here's the line I really want to emphasize:  "Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker.  I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker.  In which case you also were meant to have it.  And that may be an encouraging thought."

An encouraging thought indeed!  After the titular "Shadows" of this chapter have near enveloped the world beyond saving, Gandalf makes clear that different forces are also at play, much brighter ones, that even an ancient Dark Lord of unimaginable terror cannot anticipate.  The Ring may be powerful, but it is not omnipotent!  There is hope yet.  As Gandalf says of Gollum, "Even Gollum was not wholly ruined.  He had proved tougher than even one of the Wise could have guessed--as a hobbit might.  There was a little corner of his mind that was still his own, and light came through it, as through a chink in the dark: light out of the past."  The same could be said of this chapter--a light came through it, as through a chink in the dark.

This chapter is a data dump done right.  It is made up of insinuation, implication, dark hints that are more frightening in their obscurity than all of Peter Jackson's blunt obviousness and CGI battle sequences.

Eric's Thoughts (2/7/14)

Backstory. That’s what fills this chapter. Frodo ages, Gandalf shows up and explains how this “One Ring” is dangerous, you learn a little about Gollum, and Sam gets caught eavesdropping.

Again what I am noticing is how sparse the descriptions are. Very little is described other than Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows and the ring itself. The story moves along (even more so in this chapter) purely by dialogue. The dialogue drives exposition and establishes the story’s First Great Quest: get the hell out of the Shire.

I think Tolkien did something very clever that most authors that are experienced know what to do: do not bring the backstory up immediately. Tolkien takes his time establishing Grubbs and Chubbs and Bagginses so that a real, breathing world is established. Once that is done, and the reader actually cares, Tolkien lays out a backstory that lays out the quest. This chapter wasn’t the most riveting since I already knew all of the backstory, but that’s not fair to Tolkien in terms of the chapter's merit. I recall being much more interested in this chapter when I was younger and didn’t know about rings of power and such. So to the experienced Tolkien reader, nothing new is established, and the text is a little slow. But to the new initiate, I remember this chapter being much more engaging during the first read when wanted to learn about the rings.

So in terms of a hero’s journey analysis, this fits right in: the story begins with a mundane sense of normality. Invitations are sent, a party occurs, and something menacing is foreshadowed. Then, in this chapter, the call to adventure occurs. Frodo must leave the Shire. (Interesting to note that the First Quest isn't the final quest. A Second Quest occurs later in the book in Rivendell that requires Frodo to actually go to Mordor itself and destroy the ring.) So far I’d say LOTR is following the hero’s formula pretty closely.

Sam gets caught during this exposition with his shears, which was a clever way to bring in a sidekick, if I may say so. Sam gets some good lines right off the bat. Gandalf asks, “how long have you been eavesdropping?” And Sam replies, “Eavesdropping, sir? I don’t follow you, begging your pardon. There ain’t no eaves at Bag End, and that’s a fact.”

What a smartass, and Gandalf rightly calls him out on it: “Don’t be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?” Gandalf’s eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.

That last line right there I think answers the question of how are we able to visualize Gandalf so well. Tolkien is using a classic writer’s trick to zero-in on a particular detail of a character, and then amplify it. In other words, Tolkien regularly references Gandalf’s bushy eyebrows to make the character come alive.

Now, what’s interesting here is that compared to earlier on, Sam comes across as a bumbling idiot, while earlier he was a noble, thoughtful fellow arguing against Ted the Sandyman that strange happenings were occurring. (Ben rightfully points this out.) And while I agree that it could just simply be a flaw in the writing, I also think that when a wizard like Gandalf is staring you down, and you think you’re going to be changed into a toad, your personality might change. So this can be reconciled to some degree.

But a particular plot hole, that is not reconciled, is why Gandalf just didn't toss the ring in the fireplace twelve years ago to make sure it’s the One Ring? For an omnipotent wise-old wizard that (later on) kills a Balrog and can spot Sam's not-so-obvious lie (sarcasm), he certainly seems an idiot. (Now, scholars defending the book might point out that maybe Gandalf learned that little fire trick just recently, but I don’t buy it. I think it’s a legitimate plot hole that needed to be directly addressed.)

In response to your question, Ben, I did read the Similarion long ago and remember finding it to be memorably dull. (By that I mean I particularly remember it being dull.) I remember that Morgoth wasn’t such a nice guy, and I remember that Sauron was a lieutenant, and that men chose to be men instead of elves, and later generations cursed their ancestors for that foolish decision. I can totally understand where those men are coming from—I think I would curse them too. Who wouldn’t want to live as an immortal who never suffered disease? (Though, as food for thought, perhaps we all are just descendants of those very men that chose not to be elves. Possible, right? And kind of depressing. We could have been elves.)

Although I think I will address this later, Ben is correct that removing Gandalf was critical to raising the stakes in the story. You’ve got to get rid of the helper for the hero to truly grow. Now, what’s interesting is, Gandalf helps later on, but not early on. I’ll discuss this later in more detail. But don't bring it up yet! Gandalf hasn't left yet!

Jacob makes some astute observations. As he points out, the most gripping character in the chapter is not even the characters onstage, but trials of Smeagol and how just a corner of his mind remains his own. Even on a second read, that to me was the most compelling part of this chapter: that an evil creature still clings to a yarn of goodness, and that many lives may yet depend on the pity of Bilbo. A perfectly foreshadowed moment to the ending, and something worth thinking about for a moment: that without Smeagol, Sauron would have won.

Ben's Thoughts (2/7/14)

My general thought about "The Shadow of the Past" is "heavy on exposition." Pretty simplistic and obvious, but there it is. On my re-reads of LOTR, this chapter always strikes me as one that was probably a lot more fun to read the first time through. It tends to drag on subsequent re-reads. Let's dive right into Gandalf's explanation of the Ring that sets up the rest of the story, and I'll get to the bookends of the chapter -- characterization of Sam Gamgee -- in a minute.

Right from the beginning of Gandalf and Frodo's chat, the reader is clued in to the fact that LOTR is going to be "darker and edgier" (™) than The Hobbit. "Goblins" have become "orcs," trolls are no longer dull-witted (no Bert and Fred in evidence here), and "worse things" are apparently abroad (no real follow-up on this, perhaps Gandalf was referring to the Nazgûl, but if I recall correctly he seems genuinely surprised that they show up in the Shire later). This chapter alone references not only Sauron and his minions, but dwarves, ancient elves (both high-Elves and wood-elves), men of "Westernesse" (I had no idea what this was referring to before I read Silmarillion), and the names of hobbit breeds (Stoors vs. Fallohides, particularly). A ton of complexity added in just one short chapter.

This change from Hobbit's simplicity is both a blessing and a boon at these early stages. Some things (like "Westernesse") leave the reader out to sea, I believe. I don't think Tolkien does a good enough job of clarifying what the relationship of Sauron was to the Ring-makers in this chapter. When I was a kid, I had no idea who or what they were; even the appendices did not clear that up much (the name of the chief Ring-maker, "Celebrimbor," was exceedingly opaque) and not until the Silmarillion did I understand that these were Noldor, led by a descendant of Feänor. Since the history of the rings is never really very relevant to the story after this point, I suppose that Tolkien didn't need to spend a lot of time on it or clarify it to the degree that would have pleased me, but it does seem like something of a flaw.

Additionally, the existence of "rings" within the story always felt a little odd after delving into Tolkien's mythos a bit more. From Silmarillion, it's clear that Elves (especially the Eldar, or those that chose to go to "Valinor," Tolkien's take on the Asgard of Norse myths) had a lot of power in and of themselves, but it was mainly linked to their personal righteousness and morality -- when the Elves became more concerned with material things (a recurring theme throughout the Silmarillion) and especially when they made questionable decisions connected with their lust after comforts and objects that represented physical beauty, their powers waned and they were able to be overcome by the powers of evil (the fallen god Morgoth in Silmarillion, of whom Sauron was only a lieutenant). So where do rings fit in with that spectrum of power and morality? It's kind of hand-waved that Celebrimbor and the Ring-makers were able to pour parts of their own power into the Rings of Power (thus sort-of explaining why the power of the Elves fades at the end of the book, when the Three Rings become useless), but how exactly does the One Ring have power over the other races' rings? And how exactly did Sauron corrupt the work of the Ring-makers with respect to the Seven and Nine rings? It's all very fuzzy, and, I think, something of a cheap hand-wave to explain why a "magic ring" is the MacGuffin of the story when it really doesn't fit in all that well. It seems to me that Tolkien was boxed in a little bit by the fact that The Hobbit had a magic ring in it 'because that's the sort of thing that shows up in these stories' (I think there's even a line in Hobbit to that effect).

Now, don't get me wrong, the Ring is a compelling icon in the books, even in this initial chapter. Its insidious effect is quite potent, and brings forth interesting facets in all the characters that encounter it directly. Even here, the physical description of the Ring itself gets more screen-time than any description of the physical attributes of Frodo himself (a concept I think I'll touch on in subsequent chapters more than here):

"It now appeared plain and smooth, without mark or device that he could see. The gold looked very fair and pure, and Frodo thought how rich and beautiful was its color, how perfect was its roundness. It was an admirable thing and altogether precious." [Note how he sneaks the word 'precious' in there, after Gandalf made such a big deal about it earlier. Very clever.]

In the end, all this makes me wonder how Tolkien changed "Bilbo's magic ring" to "The One Ring" conceptually in his mind, and whether that was the plan all along. I doubt it. I'm sure someone who is more versed in Tolkien lore than I would be able to answer this question, but I don't know if anyone else here can -- would I be wrong in saying that I have read the most Tolkien between the three of us? Has anyone else read The Silmarillion? What about any of the Unfinished Tales or other supplemental material published by Christopher Tolkien? I have read a few of these, but certainly not everything that's out there.

Anyway, moving on. Beyond the backstory, what I was most interested in during my read of this chapter was the characterization. Gandalf doesn't get too much, aside from being mysterious -- although it is telling that he makes several quite cutting put-downs towards Frodo. Like this one, for example, when Frodo asks why he was chosen (by the mysterious 'powers that be' that Gandalf referenced; what exactly was he talking about there? The Valar?):

"'Such questions cannot be answered,' said Gandalf. 'You may be sure that [you did not receive the Ring] for any merit that others do not possess: not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.'"

Ouch. Gandalf is also quite arrogant about his knowledge and power, refusing to share things with Frodo even when asked point-blank. I wonder if Tolkien is here setting him up for his fall in his confrontation with Saruman. I always thought Tolkien was quite clever in removing Gandalf from much of Book 1 of "Fellowship," because it raises the stakes for the poor bumbling hobbits, but it is interesting in light of how much we see of him at this point.

Tolkien also spends a bit more time on Frodo here -- finally -- and I can certainly relate to Frodo's restlessness. He feels something pulling him towards the mountains, towards adventure (even so much that mountains are appearing in his dreams), and I don't think this is any insidious effect of the Ring -- I think it is his own nature that wishes to explore the wide world. I myself feel a very powerful connection to mountains in particular. I live in a (relatively) flat place, and deeply miss the mountains of my college days. Frodo's sense of time passing and and anxiousness to get in motion is something that I believe we have all experienced in our lives. Our finite existence (depending on what you believe, at least finite in our present state of being) continually presses upon us.

Finally we get to Sam. Right off the bat, Sam is presented extremely sympathetically, standing up to Ted Sandyman and generally coming across as a thoughtful individual quite different from most of the hobbits we have encountered to this point. Perhaps more tellingly is the fact that Sam walks home thoughtful under the stars -- stars are almost always associated with the Elves in Tolkien's mythos (they are called, after all, the "Quendi" -- "people of the stars"), and an interest in Elves is always associated with a sense of self and community greater than just the immediate here and now.

But what is interesting about this introduction is what a contrast it is with the buffoonish Sam we encounter at the end of the chapter. Here he's characterized with bad jokes, poor excuses, and, perhaps most damningly, a pair of "Lor bless me"s that could not be further from his quiet strength we saw earlier. Why this change? Was it simply that Tolkien wrote one of these scenes earlier than the other, and didn't reconcile the two Sam's? That would make a lot of sense to me -- the Sam at the beginning of the chapter is a lot like the thoughtful hero we encounter in "Return of the King." Or perhaps Tolkien was emphasizing the class disparity between Frodo and Sam; the dialect is certainly played up in the scene that features the two of them together. I don't know if I have any answers, but I was decidedly put-off by the "dunce" Sam that we see at the end of the chapter.

In the end, "Shadow of the Past" glided through almost completely neutrally for me. I didn't talk much about the backstory itself, because it didn't do a lot for me -- I have read about it so many times before that it doesn't feel fresh anymore. I loved Sam's introduction at the beginning -- but that was all undone by his final appearance in the chapter. Dunno. I'm beginning to recall that this stretch of Book 1 was a little tedious. Things don't really pick up until we get to Bree. We'll have to see going forward.