"The Bridge of Khazad-dûm" - Ben's Thoughts

Doom is the word to use here, isn't it? From everything I know, the "û" is pronounced with the long "oo", making the word embedded in the chapter title itself.

A few quick matters before we get to the meat and potatoes of the chapter: Gandalf and the Balrog. The fight in the Chamber of Mazarbul is quite the example of a powerful but understated fight sequence. The Orcs do seem quite scary, even if they are just faceless mooks, and something about the "flat, toeless foot" of the troll is quite evocative as well. (Although it seems quite the cowardly troll to run off after just a little slash to the foot.) It's interesting to note that Tolkien again provides no description of Gandalf in combat (a far cry from the films, to be sure). I'll have to pay careful attention to Gandalf's sword-and-sorcery abilities after he returns as Gandalf the White in the next book. It seems that here he limits himself to the magical bolstering that is both his mission as a Maia to Middle-earth and the capacity of his Ring of Power that is carried with him unbeknownst to the rest of the company (or is it? I wonder if Aragorn was aware of that secret of Gandalf's).

The story of the Dwarves is very horrible. Again Tolkien manages to convey a lot by saying very little. Perhaps this "slashed book" tactic of telling very little and letting the readers fill in the gaps is the precursor of the "found footage" horror movies that are a dime a dozen today? "The Watcher in the Water took Óin" is one of the most horrible lines so far, both because we know Óin from The Hobbit, and because we know the Watcher from the last chapter. It's an old but powerful literary device to state things simply and allow the reader to fill in everything; thus we can imagine the defeated Dwarves, attempting to retreat up to the Eregion gate, only to find this horrible pool of water right on the doorstep and a Lovecraftian monster inside of it that eats one of the group when they try to ford the lake. Caught between the Watcher and the orcs inside; I don't know what I'd choose, but I suppose the Dwarves went with the orcs; in any case they returned to tell what had happened on that side of the Mines. "Valiant but foolish" is what Gandalf calls Balin's expedition. I think that sums it up nicely. Balin from The Hobbit never comes across as ambitious, but it would take a certain foolhardy ambition to ask Dáin, one of the only Dwarves who seemed to perceive the true evil hidden in Moria (see Appendix A), to take a group there to try and retake the Mines, when there have been no Dwarves in Moria because of the Balrog for hundreds (thousands?) of years.

Of course the big focus in the chapter is on the balrog, the monster that launched a thousand D&D campaigns. The giant demon-monster of the films has been so ingrained into my mind, that it's almost shocking to see how vaguely it is described in the books. Its first appearance in the Chamber after the Fellowship exits is interesting for several reasons, not least of which is the fact that it fits in the chamber at all. Just how big or small is this thing? Can it change its shape at will? Tolkien's descriptions of it seem almost fluid, and it makes one think of how powerful Maia in The Silmarillion often changed their physical forms when they needed to adapt to a different situation or needed to present themselves to weak-minded mortals in a different way. After all, the balrog is a Maia -- a fire-spirit likely in service to Aulë. Tolkien waffled on how many balrogs there were supposed to have been; in the The Silmarillion it is conveyed that they exist in large numbers, and in extant notes it is stated that there were alternatively only seven and huge numbers (even thousands). In any case, it's likely that the balrog here (goofily called "Durin's Bane" in Tolkien fandom) has a greater overt power than Gandalf, who is also a Maia (wielding one of the Three Rings, let us not forget) but who was in service to Nienna, a Vala who concerned herself with grief, mourning, and inner strength (which jives quite nicely with Gandalf's mission to inspire courage throughout Middle-earth in the face of Sauron's destructive power).

That mention of Sauron leads me to wonder what the balrog thought of Sauron? There's certainly no link between them; I'm sure Sauron would have loved to have had a balrog at his command, but this one seems content to relax in Moria and kill all passers-by and has no interest in exiting his lair to rain destruction on Sauron's enemies. If the Wise (the Istari and the leaders of the Elves) were aware or had suspicions of what had caused the destruction of the Dwarves in Moria, surely Sauron would have as well? (Although on second thought, it seems that Gandalf had only suspicions -- he exclaims "Now I understand" when he finally sees the monster.) In any case, the balrog would likely not want to bend its will to Morgoth's lowly lieutenant -- the balrogs were often described as Morgoth's personal guard, whereas Sauron was just another henchman who in the Third Age exalts himself in a measure greater than any could have foreseen. This duality between the evils of the balrog and Sauron are interesting -- one demands expansion, conquest, and subjugation, while the other slumbers until disturbed, and then surges forth with terrible force, but within the limits of its domain.

Anyway, back to the balrog in the chamber. I've always found it interesting how Gandalf can sense it in the chamber, how the balrog then "perceives" Gandalf and his spell, and how it then casts a counter-spell. Not only does this indicate that the balrog is more of an active force with a malevolent will of its own, rather than a chaotic force of nature, but it hints at a magic system existing beyond Tolkien's non-delineated supernatural powers possessed by Gandalf and other Maia. In this day and age of almost-too-clearly defined systems, there is something to be said for the mystery and ambiguity on display here. I suppose since we are never in Gandalf's head, it makes sense that we never know exactly how he does things. On the other hand it frustrates me to no end that there seem to be no rules on how things work.

Then the balrog appears at the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. It is described as a "man-shape maybe, yet greater." This makes me think it is simply the size of a man, but then Tolkien describes it swelling in size, or perhaps just of power, and that its "wings" (possibly just wings of shadow) stretch from wall to wall. I dunno, somehow I like the idea of a great power emanating from a smaller, man-sized figure. The balrog is such a compelling adversary perhaps because Tolkien leaves its description vague. It doesn't speak; it doesn't cackle or gloat. It doesn't even roar (like it does in the movie). It is silent and unspeakably malevolent.

Two final points. First, Aragorn immediately seizes the mantle of leadership after Gandalf's fall. "Come, I will lead you now," is one of the most powerful moments in the book for me, because it is done without hesitation. He almost knew what would happen and he was prepared. There is no doubt who the new leader will be; unless I'm forgetting something, Boromir does not even try to challenge Aragorn's knowledge and expertise in the next chapter. Aragorn finishes out the chapter with a bang ("Aragorn smote to the ground the [orc] captain that stood in his path, and the rest fled in terror of his wrath") and marks a transition point in the book as well. From this point on, he will go through a dynamic shift in character that is one of the best in LOTR.

Finally, Gandalf's fall. I don't have much to say that hasn't already been said, but I feel that "Fellowship" is probably the best of the three books because it deals with loss. Frodo's loss of the Shire, Boromir's spiral into madness, leaving Bilbo behind in Rivendell, and of course Gandalf's sacrifice. It brings home to the reader that there is real and great cost to this Quest. I almost feel like bringing Gandalf back not even a book later cheapens his death here, and I wonder why Tolkien wanted to bring him back and whether the book would have been better without him. I dunno. I'll probably address it more in "Two Towers." The chapter places a finality on the loss with the final words: "the drum-beats faded." What a great way to end the chapter.