"Lothlórien" - Ben's Thoughts

While not much actually happens in this chapter, it does allow for rumination on a number of different important subjects. It's a nice pause after the excitement of Moria.

I won't go into Gandalf's passing too much, as Jacob already covered it to a large extent. It's interesting that Aragorn really gives the Company no time to grieve at all, and Tolkien doesn't really dwell on it, either. If I recall correctly, there's more on the subject in later chapters, but here it is glossed over very quickly. That's too bad, seeing that this moment from the movie is one of the very best additions (and probably one of the best scenes from all three films). I also not that Aragorn's "We must do without hope" is a very bleak line. Aragorn really thinks there is no hope in this war. It's interesting, however, that the chapter is bookended by Aragorn's thoughts on hope -- here he denies it, but at the end, when he is wrapped up in his memories of Arwen ("For the grim years were removed from the face of Aragorn, and he seemed clothed in white, a young lord tall and fair; and he spoke words in the Elvish tongue to one whom Frodo could not see" -- a lovely description), he seems reminded of why he is fighting this war, despite the bleak outlook.

A few thoughts about the Elves. First, we have the answer to Jacob's question about the language all the characters are speaking, right here in the text of the chapter: it is called "Westron," the common tongue of Middle-earth. This language is derived from the Adûnaic language, the native tongue of the Men of Númenor. Apparently Westron is something of a creole adapted from Adûnaic and the other tongues of the West. By this point in the Third Age only the learned would speak anything but Westron; Pippin and Merry, for example, will have no trouble understanding the Rohirrim or the men of Gondor in the later books. It is fun to note that Tolkien even saw the test of LOTR as a "translation" of Westron; supposedly Bilbo and Frodo's names in Westron ended in "a" sounds (i.e., "Bilba" and "Froda"), but these had to be "translated" as "Bilbo" and "Frodo" into English because names that end in "a" in our language are viewed as feminine. That Tolkien. Going above and beyond for the sake of worldbuilding.

We also get a bit more of an insight into Elvish society than we had previously. It's very interesting that Legolas is not familiar with the Elves of Lórien, and vice versa. Indeed, Haldir knows next to nothing about the world outside the immediate concerns of Lórien and the war Galadriel is engaged in with Dol Goldur. Galadriel's isolationist policy really keeps her people in the dark (although it doesn't seem to keep her from communicating with Elrond telepathically about the inbound Fellowship), and engenders Haldir's oddly hypocritical stance on trust and estrangement: "Indeed in nothing is the power of the Dark Lord more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all those who still oppose him," he says. Yet "…we dare not by our own trust endanger our land." How does that make sense? It sounds like Sauron has already succeeded, to me. Galadriel is clearly more of a pragmatist than Elrond, who made all of those speeches as the Fellowship was leaving Rivendell about agency and destiny, not to mention his symbolic choices about the makeup and number of the Company. It's nice to see diversity of opinion between the Lords of the Noldor.

Which of course takes me back to The Silmarillion -- while they mostly display a unified front in LOTR, Elves have a very fractious history. The divisions between Thranduil's kingdom of Mirkwood and Galadriel's kingdom of Lórien are wide indeed. First and foremost, Thranduil is a Sindar, from a line hailing from Doriath -- made up of Elves who did not journey over the Sea to the West in the Ages before the First Age. Meanwhile, Galadriel is quite possibly the oldest living Elf in Middle-earth -- she is a Noldor, was born in Valinor, and traveled to Middle-Earth with Feänor before the First Age. By this time the Elves have mostly overcome the differences between the different (ethnic?) groups, which is a good thing because it seemed like they were killing each other all the time in The Silmarillion. It also raises interesting class issues, as the Noldor lord it over the Úmayar Sindar and Nandor Elves that make up most of the population of (certainly) Legolas' people and (most likely) the Elves of Lórien as well. Peter Jackson makes something of these class issues in the new Hobbit "adaptation" (I use scare quotes because it is a very loose adaptation indeed), even though Tolkien leaves it entirely out of LOTR. Maybe that's a good thing. Elvish politics and class issues would probably muddy up the clear narrative that we have here.

A few miscellaneous notes. I don't think I've ever noticed before that the Elves monitored a "great troop of orcs" entering Moria at the eastern gate some months back. What was that all about? Sauron's delegation to the Balrog? Just Sauron stirring up trouble? Or perhaps Sauron's anticipation of Gandalf and Co. going into the Mines? It certainly lends itself to the idea that Gandalf was fated to fall in Moria, and that Sauron's will was driving the Company to enter the place. An interesting piece of evidence to Sauron's perception of Gandalf's travels.

Next, on Frodo - his "sixth sense" of danger seems to have developed considerably. Frodo feels uneasy long after the orcs have gone, which of course signals the approach of Gollum. I will continue to be on the lookout for other evidence of superpowers from Frodo, although it may be fewer and farther between in later books; as I recall Books IV and VI are mostly from Sam's point of view. Surely this sixth sense isn't a lingering effect from Frodo's dagger-wound -- how would being turned into a wraith have helped him sense Gollum, who is a different kind of beast altogether from the orcs? I'm just not sure what to make of Frodo's extrasensory abilities. Thoughts, anyone?

Frodo also experiences a certain "rapture in nature" moment there on Cerin Amroth. It's clear that Tolkien has a great love for woods and forests. However, while these are beautiful places, they bear no great resonance for me -- I love the mountains. As a result, Tolkien's waxing rhapsodic about the woods and hills of Lórien falls a little flat for me; being confined in woods will always feel subtly oppressive to me, no matter how beautiful. Give me mountains, grand vistas, any day. That's what really gets my blood moving.

I wanted to close with a comment on Frodo and Gimli's experience at Kheled-zâram, the "Mirror-mere." They gaze into the pool, and Gimli doesn't repeat what he sees other than the "crown of Durin," but Frodo believes that he sees lights shining in the depths of the pool that could not be reflected from the mountains above. What is all that about? What was Tolkien trying to convey by having his characters enjoy this experience?

On one level, it ties into the sense of glory lost, civilization crumbled, that pervades LOTR so deeply. The Elves, with Haldir as their spokesman in this chapter, believe that their day has passed and they will never again attain the beauty of the past; that all that is left for them is to pass into the West (and Haldir, interestingly enough, seems to be deeply skeptical about what awaits them there). The Dwarves, on the other hand, seem to have a far brighter outlook on things. While Gimli recognizes that their civilization has fallen from greater heights, he believes that his leader (prophet? god-figure?) Durin will return someday, and with him the glory of Dwarven civilization -- Durin is literally reborn, he comes again. Given that belief, the Mirror-mere (an interesting name, given the "Mirror of Galadriel" we will encounter in the next chapter) reflects a promise that is essentially a religious experience. Gimli says he wants to see the "wonder of the dale," but what he is looking for in the pool is  spiritual confirmation that his Messiah-figure Durin will return.

The Dwarves seem to believe that what has been lost can be reclaimed, even if it is not always in the same way. Is this belief at odds with the message we will encounter at the end of the book that what is broken (Frodo's peace) cannot be mended, although joy and peace can ultimately be found, in some form or another, in places we did not at first expect (perhaps in death or the afterlife)? I'm not sure. I tend to lean more in the direction of Frodo, in that I feel like sublime experiences will never be recaptured in the same way twice in one lifetime. But wouldn't it be nice to think so? I guess that makes Gimli the optimist in the Company.

All in all, a very interesting chapter. A nice contrast from the frenetic energy and masterful action of Moria. Let's see if the rest of the "Lórien" chapters hold up to snuff.