"The Muster of Rohan" - Eric's Thoughts

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. If Lord of the Rings started with Return of the King, I would guess no one would ever read on.

As Ben and Jacob have noted, this chapter, among others before it, are obviously transitional chapters bridging the characters from the battle of pelennor fields to where they were before. To refresh everyone on what happened here, the chapter involves moving the riders towards Minas Tirith, Merry eating with the King, Merry almost being left behind, and Merry being picked up by a rider called Dernhelm.

Sadly, like the chapters that come before it, something is lacking that makes the prose lack an "oomph" factor. My initial thought is that it lacks a compelling POV character to drive at least an emotional arc while the external conflict itself is non-existent. Merry, not developed as a character, seems to be a poor choice to drive the narrative.

That's not to say that there aren't a few moments that are interesting. For me the most compelling part is when a messenger shows up from Minas Tirith and begs for aid from Théoden. King Théoden rises to the challenge and summons the army -- wait for it -- which (disappointingly) is only 6,000 strong.

And that goes to another problem. Something I found really odd is how few men the forces of good seem to have -- yet they manage to put up a fierce resistence to the supposedly numberless hordes of Sauron. Perhaps that just goes to human tenacity, but personally I think it's a plot whole. It almost suggests that Sauron doesn't have that much either, say like 30,000-50,000 troops at best. That's nothing to sneer at, but in a modern world of over 5 billion people, Sauron would have significant trouble conquering even Alaska (population 736,732). If anything, the low amount of "Team Gandalf" forces seems to suggest the Dark Lord himself is not really that powerful. (Especially since that paltry force breaks Sauron's forces in Pelennor.)

"The Muster of Rohan" - Ben's Thoughts

The cardinal sin of this chapter is not that it's bad, like "Grey Company" -- it's that it's boring.

What happens: The company arrives at Dunharrow; Merry hears an old legend about the Paths of the Dead, that doesn't add anything to what we learned in the last chapter; the errand-rider arrives and asks Theoden to come to Minas Tirith, which we already knew was his plan; Merry is not allowed to come with; and a mysterious rider lets Merry ride with him to come anyway.

So essentially, not very much. There's a song thrown in, that isn't an "in-narrative" song like many from "Fellowship" (i.e. something far better fit in an appendix, or footnote, or something other than the text itself, but heaven forbid Tolkien excise one of his songs), and a legend with a spooky maybe statue-maybe really old guy, that ties in with the skeleton we saw in the last chapter. But other than that, there's a lot of talking, they travel from one place to another place, more talking, then more traveling begins.

Part of me is sympathetic because of the Gordian knot that Tolkien's plotting has presented him with: he doesn't want to leave Merry in the lurch, and how else can he get Merry to Minas Tirith without exiling him, and Theoden and Eowyn, from the narrative for several chapters? My thought, for what it's worth, is that this chapter should have been trimmed down to maybe a page, and inserted in "The Ride of the Rohirrim" as an extended flashback, with Merry contemplating "the trip so far", particularly his first contact with Eowyn as Dernhelm. I think that would have moved the book along at a better clip, with only one boring chapter in between the two more thematically and narratively rich Minas Tirith chapters.

I will say two nice things about the chapter, however. One: Tolkien once again manages to convey his sense of history as palimpsest -- the Rohirrim has settled into their lands, after the previous peoples were swept away by the tides of history. Their songs, tales, their very reason for being, has vanished in the mists of time. Merry gets a sense of that loss as he regards the Pukel-men statues: "[N]o power or terror was left in [the statues]; but Merry gazed at them with wonder and a feeling almost of pity, as they loomed up mournfully in the dusk." This theme is one that he continually circles back to: civilizations crumble; entropy abounds; no-one, mortal or elf-kind, can escape from it. It is one of the overarching themes of LOTR, and one that resonates powerfully with the reader.

Two: Tolkien's prose shines through; his descriptions and landscapes remain utterly masterful. What a sense of scope and wonder he evokes, in describing the White Mountains and Merry's descent into the valley:

It was a skyless world, in which his eye, through dim gulfs of shadowy air, saw only ever-mounting slopes, great walls of stone behind great walls, and frowning precipices wreathed with mist. He sat for a moment half dreaming, listening to the noise of water, the whisper of dark trees, the crack of stone, and the vast waiting silence that brooded behind all sound. He loved mountains, or he had loved the thought of them marching on the edge of stories brought from far away; but now he was borne down by the insupportable weight of Middle-earth. He longed to shut out the immensity in a quiet room by a fire.

Of course, Merry's a bit of a wimp. I'm not sure if he's truly reflecting Tolkien's mindset, but this sense of wanting to escape the majesty, the enormity, of the natural world is nothing that resonates with me. I would be right at home in the vastness of Middle-earth.

"The Passing of the Grey Company" - Ben's Thoughts

I honestly think that part of me was delaying writing about this chapter because it is just plain bad.

I can envision Tolkien faced with a plot-based conundrum at this point in "Return of the King." He needs to bring his various characters together at the two-thirds point of Book V at Minas Tirith, with the pivotal battle scene of "Pellenor Fields." Tolkien was a writer who jumped around, and without consulting the copious published material detailing the intricacies of the writing process of Lord of the Rings, I feel confident in my guess that "Pellenor Fields" was written long before these transitional chapters. The dilemma was, how to get the characters to that point?

Previous books, while not strictly episodic, nevertheless consisted of related episodes attached to a wider narrative. In the journey of the Fellowship in Book II, we had Rivendell - Moria - Lorien - River - Breaking. Separate setpieces, each transitioning smoothly into the other. In Book III, we had the similar structure of Chase - Fangorn - Rohirrim - Helm's Deep - Isengard. There was padding in there, but still a clear narrative flow. Now in Book V, Tolkien has "Pellenor Fields" and "The Black Gate Opens," the finale leading into Book VI... and the big question of what to do in between.

The result is a series of stilted episodes, each lacking the passion, cinematic quality, and cohesion of that of previous books. The best bits are reserved for Minas Tirith, where Tolkien at least has fully realized characters in Denethor and Faramir (not to mention Gandalf) to fall back on. Sadly, the Dunedain, Elladan and Elorhir, the Dead, and yes, even Theoden in these sections are not fully realized characters. They are mere sketches.

So Tolkien doesn't want Aragorn to just ride along with Theoden to Minas Tirith, he needs him to arrive in suitably heroic fashion, as befitting a returning king, and if he has an adventure to pad out a chapter or two in the process, so much the better. So he sends Aragorn through the Paths of the Dead; but to get to the Paths, he has to know that there's a danger growing in the sound (the corsairs of Umbar); but to know that, he has to use the Palantir; but to use the Palantir, he has to wrest it away from Sauron; and wow, this is getting really complicated, let's not show the struggle with Sauron on-screen, let's have Gimli be the POV character (even though he was just fine with Aragorn being the POV in "Two Towers" -- Tolkien's reluctance to have Aragorn be the POV from this point on is quite frustrating and something I will probably address in later chapters), and let's have the journey through the Paths to be kinda creepy but with nothing much really happening and Aragorn doesn't have to do any convincing of the Dead, they're all just ready to follow him to Pelargir.

Suffice it to say, this kind of plotting does not a masterful chapter make. Similar plotting in later chapters does not a masterful Book V make.

Tolkien does get one thing right, however: Aragorn's conversation with Eowyn. Say what you will about Tolkien's male-centric tale: when Eowyn takes center stage, as she does here, I feel like he genuinely portrays a feminist perspective. Here is Eowyn, as powerful as she can get in a patriarchy like the Rohirrim (given charge over the affairs of the kingdom while the king rides off to war). And yet, she remains constrained, powerless, unable to effectuate real change in her life: "Shall I always be left behind when the Riders depart, to mind the house while they win renown, and find food and beds when they return?" she asks. Then, when Aragorn tries to pass her off with a platitude about the honor of service on the homefront, she shoots back: "All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house."

Of course, Tolkien manages to undercut it with having Eowyn fall madly in love with Aragorn on the basis of their two interactions, but the fact remains that it's a ballsy move to have one of your main male protagonists needled like this by a female character. From a feminist perspective, if you can weed through the problematic parts of the Aragorn-Eowyn interaction, there's some striking words there. And it is important to note that Eowyn proves Aragorn wrong: her part is not in the home, as she proves later at the Pellenor.

I think we've all expressed our frustration about these chapters. Unfortunately they keep going for a while. On to the next.

"The Battle of the Pelennor Fields" - Jacob's Thoughts

Eowyn finally gets her big moment, the ostensible pay-off we've been building up to the past few chapters.  The Nazgul first gets some most excellent trash talk as he warns her that if she does not stand aside, he won't merely kill her, but bear her away "beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shriveled mind be left naked to the Lidless eye," for "No living man may hinder me!"  Which of course just sets up Eowyn for the killer rejoinder: "But no living man am I!  You look upon a woman."  She then skillfully dispatches the flying beast, and straight-up slays the Nazgul--women are apparently the Black Rider's one weakness, I guess?  Not since Macbeth has such a formidable villain been defeated by such a bare technicality.

Of course, she doesn't do it alone; she gets an assist from dinky little Merry, whom the Nazgul had no more regarded than he would a "worm in the mud."  As with Shelob and Sam, the enemy's easy disregard of these doddering Hobbits is what proves their immediate undoing--it's what will prove Sauron's, too.  That is the definite theme emerging in these concluding chapters.

I still maintain that Eowyn's last stand is not nearly developed enough to pack as much punch as Tolkien clearly wants it to have; nevertheless, the grand fanfare and grandiose language with which he describes her combat is just too darn earnest for me to hate on too much.  The professor's enthusiasm covers a multitude of sins.

But not all of them; and if Mordor's constant overlook of the Hobbits is the emergent theme of these chapters, likewise I note that anti-climax is becoming this novel's recurrent failing.  Just as Pippin's midnight flight from Sauron is deflated by his easy arrival into Minus Tirith, this chapter opens by revealing how Gandalf's climactic showdown with the Nazgul at the city gates ends with...the Nazgul promptly flying away.  Just like that.  Call me eccentric, but I kinda would've liked to see Gandalf himself actually battle one of these mofos!  In fact, I think I would've been more invested in such a combat than I was in Eowyn's. Come to think of it, besides that one quick light-show to liberate King Theoden, we have not actually beheld Gandalf the White in action once!  Even Gandalf the Gray we got to see duel a Balrog.  I keep being told how much more powerful Gandalf the White is, but I'm apparently going to have to take everyone's word for it, because Tolkien simply refuses to show it.

Another anti-climax: the arrival of Aragorn from the Paths of the Dead.  While I'll admit it was somewhat stirring to see the Black-sailed Navy suddenly unfurl the long-lost banner of the King (in the original False Flag operation) to the rejoicing of Rohan and the dismay of Mordor, nevertheless the utter absence of the actual Oathbreakers in the ensuing melee had me scratching my head.

Of course my reading is still far too colored by the Peter Jackson film, wherein these swarming ghosts pour from the ships to make short work of the hosts of Mordor in a thrilling shower of CGI.  Tolkien, by contrast, does not even bother to show them in the climactic moment.  I complained earlier about how left-field the Oathbreakers felt to the narrative, but if you're going to introduce them, then at least have the decency to show them!  Does everything Aragorn-related--his stare-down with Sauron, the reforging of the Sword--have to happen off screen??  The titular Return of the King should not feel so strangely off-handed.  Here is another moment that I am going to have concede to the Jackson version.

More egregiously, in the Tolkien text, some of Mordor's most vicious forces are made up of what are clearly black people, "black men like half-trolls with white eyes and red tongues"--which is, you know, hugely problematic.  Likewise, the fact that this war is explicitly presented as a battle between the innumerable hordes of the East verses the noble-men of the West has profoundly uncomfortable Orientalist valences (a deep-seated European fear of Asia that so often justified the West's most repressive colonialism) that would have sent Edward Sa'id's eyes rolling into his head. Again, the Professor is clearly rushing at this point, as shown by how some of his most deep-seated, culturally-conditioned prejudices are starting to seep through. 

"The Ride of the Rohirrim" - Jacob's Thoughts

First off: what on earth are the Wild Men supposed to be??  Much like the Oathbreakers, the Paths of the Dead, the return of the Rangers, Eowyn's dilemma, and so many other elements in Book V, their appearance just feels so left-field (no matter Merry's awkward insistence that he had seen them before), unnecessary, puzzling, random and above all beside the point.  More egregiously: Their grass-skirts, stilted patois, and "Noble Savage" demeanor straight out of Dryden or James Fenimore Cooper, all comes from an uncomfortably racist lineage of indigenous caricatures that the English long used to romanticize Natives even as they slaughtered them.  I am disappointed to find the Professor indulging in such lazy stereotypes, for reasons both ethical and aesthetic.

Moreover, on a thematic level, the Wild Men don't appear to fit in with anything--as the very title of this novel suggests (not to mention the unqualified fanfare that will greet King Aragorn), Tolkien, like a true British subject, is a big fan of civilization and its contents.  As such, the paleolithic Wild Men fit nowhere within Tolkien's larger schema.  By contrast, consider the Hobbits in their tidy little holes, Tom Bombadil with his flowers, the Elves in their tranquil realms--Tolkien harbors obvious affection for domesticity and stability.  Nature is nice and all, but only insofar as it is carefully tended and pruned (no Old Forests or Caradhras Mountains for Tolkien, thank you very much!).  He no more advocates for a turn towards the "primitive" than he does towards the totalitarian Mordor state.  So then why introduce the Wild Men at all?  They are clearly not intended as an alternative to Middle-Earth medievalism, nor does Tolkien evince the slightest interest in exploring the ethics of indigenous rights (e.g. the blasé manner in which Tolkien alludes to how Rohan had previously hunted Wild Men like animals--as though that were no big deal, just something that happened--likewise disconcerts me). 

Even on a strictly technical level, their contribution to the plot is largely nil--why did we even need to introduce these one-off stock-figures to help Rohan get around Mordor's forces in the first place?  What, Rohan's own scouts couldn't have found a way themselves?  Come to think of it, why did we even need a whole chapter for them to figure that out?  Or why did there need to be an obstacle in their way at all?  Why couldn't we just cut straight to the battle, since the previous chapter literally ends with them arriving to save the day?  Why drag out a foregone conclusion? Why does this chapter even exist?

For that matter, why is Merry's pointless POV privileged here?  And why has Tolkien suddenly chosen now of all times to romanticize warfare with such giddy language, after describing it all in such drab terms before?   This is just such an odd, redundant, retrograde, excisable chapter.

"The Passing of the Grey Company" - Eric's Thoughts

The chapter transitions from Gandalf/Pippin to Merry/Theoden/Strider/Legolas/Gimli/Eowyn. Merry, like Pippin, offers his sword to Theoden. (That's called literary symmetry.) Meanwhile, these guys called Rangers randomly show up. Now, Aragon (Strider) keeps acting a little fishy and goes off with the Rangers, and the Rangers have a fishy looking furled staff with a banner, but hey, that's ok.

Theoden and Merry go off, and at this point I'm drifting, but suddenly, lo! Strider finally gives some answers about why he's been so skulky -- he looked into the palantir!! My eyelids immediately stop drooping and I read on, eager to learn about the confrontation between Strider and Sauron. This part's a little bit interesting, but soon after it turns out Theoden left Eowyn behind, and she begs Aragon to take her with him to face the lands of the dead. Aragon refuses. Then, Aragon/Gimli/Legolas enter the lands of the dead to fulfill some promise that is described for the very first time that the story progresses. Ok. Tolkien is kind of winging it right now, but that's ok.

The lands of the dead prove less than scary. Aragon and Co. see some shadows, and blow a horn, and announce that everyone needs to come along. The dead seem to be ok with that, and follow they do.

Analysis:

Yeah, this chapter was kind of a snooze. Didn't help that I was tired when I read it, but I literally was drifting until Aragon reveals he had just had a confrontation with Sauron. But that short bit of interesting writing was short lived.

Again, like the last chapter, this chapter suffers from a lack of external conflict and a basic plot goal. At least the banner was unfurled in the lands of the dead. Phew! Excellent foreshadowing on Tolkien's part! -- note that the banner was foreshadowed earlier by the Ranger carrying it.

"The Siege of Gondor" - Jacob's Thoughts

Let's just get this out of the way: Denethor is the worst.  He is sending his last living son--the one he had earlier sent into a hopeless battle with nary a kind word, no less--to the funeral pyre without even checking his vitals.  He is abandoning his city to its doom, letting others take all the hits while he gives himself over solely to his own despair.  Rarely has grief been more selfish.

And yet, and yet.

I find I can't really join in the choruses of condemnation against Denethor, for his failings are ours, too. For he is behaving so erratically because he has lost all hope, and he has lost all hope because his first son was killed, the Enemy is at the gates, any possible allies are few and distant, and he learns that the wizard who's supposed to be helping him has let their one chance, their one boon--the One Ring--wander right into the enemy's grasp with some hapless halfling.

Frankly, Denethor's objections to Gandalf make a sad sort of sense: why on earth did he send the Ring away with Frodo?  Wasn't that just the most insane, idiotic plan ever?!  Yes, with the benefit of hindsight, it will turn out to have been the best strategy all along, the winning move; but when you have only a 1% chance of destroying the Dark Lord once and for all but a 99% of ruining everything--especially compared to having only, say, a 10% chance of only temporarily defeating Mordor, but a 90% chance of at least keeping the Ring out of Sauron's grasp (even if it still eats at your own soul)--well, by that arithmetic, Denethor's initial plan for the Ring appears far more sensible than Gandalf's.  And when Gandalf himself confesses to Pippin that there was only ever a dim hope to begin with, it would appear to justify Denethor's assessment of the situation.

This is not to defend Denethor, nor excuse him, but just to at least get where he's coming from.

Denethor likewise fascinates me because he is such a compelling portrait of a man given over to complete despair.  The way he releases Pippin from his service with a "go die in the manner you see fit," the way he openly wails at how the lines of Kings and Stewards are at an end, all this indicates a man who has truly abandoned all hope.  For all his arrogant macho posturing (e.g. dropping his cloak to reveal the armor he wears night and day and so forth), the man collapses like an accordion at the signal moment.  Like his eldest Boromir, his fate is so tragic precisely because his could so easily be ours.

In a sense, he is the mirror-image to Theoden, a man who shakes off his doldrums to rise to the challenge when he's needed most; Denethor by contrast prepares all his life for battle, only to sink into despair when the enemy comes.  Something feels...realistic about this pairing.  I have to think that Tolkien, in the trenches of the Great War, saw some of both: men of cynicism and hopelessness who reveal a forgotten courage when called upon, and arrogant men of strength and will who wilt like flowers in the face of danger.

And here's the thing: you don't know which one you're going to be until the trial moment, either! Theoden is who we hope we will be, but Denethor is in the cards, too.  You also don't know whom your friends and allies will be, either, and you're going to have to deal with both responses in a fire-fight.  Let us not judge Denethor till we are faced with the same challenge, too.

I don't want to finish without noting this chapter's excellent ending: Gandalf personally faces the Nazgûl at the gates of Gondor, "under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed," commanding the demon back to the abyss as only a man who has personally slain a Balrog can do--and the insolent Nazgûl in turn uncloaking his invisible head, like we haven't seen a Dark Rider do since they had Frodo cornered in "Flight to the Ford," and for the same reason: to exult in the totality of his triumph.

And with the same effect: right when the Nazgûl thinks he's won, lo and behold, a light breaks, pierces the darkness, and horses ride to the rescue--"Rohan had come at last."