"Farewell to Lórien" - Ben's Thoughts

There's not too much to be said about this chapter that Jacob hasn't already said. It's certainly a chapter of transition. You can almost feel Tolkien trying to consolidate Lórien into two chapters, and failing miserably as he simply had too much worldbuilding and important details to throw in that wouldn't fit in a smaller space. Tolkien, like so many Tolkien fanboys and girls, is all about the Elves, and here the Professor relishes spending a little longer in the Elvish kingdom than might be strictly necessary from a narrative standpoint.

Nevertheless, there are some real gems in this chapter. I particularly like the theme of Aragorn's indecision coming to the forefront. I know this plot thread ends with a whimper, not a bang, at the beginning of "Two Towers," but it's fascinating while it lives with us and I'll be talking about it a lot more in "The Breaking of the Fellowship" still to come. But I can just relate so completely to Aragorn's dilemma here -- torn between two paths, and confronted with a choice between what he wants and what he feels is right. On the one hand, he wants to go to Minas Tirith, to help his people in their hour of greatest need. But on the other hand, he believes it to be his duty, as leader of the Fellowship, to go to Mordor with Frodo -- a path that, I believe, Aragorn thinks is doomed to failure and destruction. "We must go on without hope" -- the line from "Lothlórien" -- very much still embodies Aragorn's mentality at this point. He still doesn't believe that Sauron can be defeated, especially after the fall of Gandalf; instead he wants to make the most of a hopeless situation and be with his people as they fall under the shadow.

What a Sophie's choice this is! Aragorn has been preparing, or at least expecting, his whole life to return to Gondor, reveal himself as the heir of Isildur, and assume some kind of leadership role in the defense against Mordor (although, since he knows Denethor personally from years of service to Denethor's father Ecthelion, he probably should expect that coming back to Minas Tirith with Boromir will not be all roses and moonbeams). And here, suddenly, Aragorn is thrust into a position of leadership of the Company that he never expected to have to bear -- a role that he had assumed Gandalf would carry forward.

I think in our lives, very frequently we are presented with situations we never expected ourselves to be in. Often in those moments we lament that such a choice has been placed before us, between what we know to be right and what we want to do. But those are the moments when I feel like we develop true character. Aragorn is lucky that he gets all these weeks in Lórien and on the River to mull over his ultimate decision -- often we don't have that luxury.

Now I'd like to spend a few words on Galadriel and the Elves' obsession and terror of the Sea and their return to Valinor. The two songs that Galadriel sings in this chapter are about Valinor and her thoughts about her inevitable return, which of course takes place at the end of "Return of the King." Of note is that Galadriel was born in Valinor; she decided to accompany Fëanor and her father Finarfin to Middle-Earth even though she did not feel like she was bound to the Fëanor's quest to recover the Silmarils like her kin did. According to The Silmarillion, she swore no oaths about the Silmarils; instead the words of Fëanor about the beauty and wild of Middle-earth kindled a strong desire in her to see those lands and one day rule a kingdom of her own. Tolkien left conflicting accounts of why Galadriel stayed in Middle-earth after Morgoth was defeated; one account says that she was not permitted to return, while another says she was given the opportunity to return but refused, self-exiling herself in Middle-earth.

This by itself hints at Galadriel's conflicted view of Valinor. It is her birthplace, a place where she would be welcomed home by her father Finarfin (who decided to ultimately stay in Valinor). But at the same time, going to Valinor would mean renouncing both the beauty and the power she enjoyed in Middle-earth. I dealt with her choice to give up her power in my thoughts on "Mirror"; here I'll touch on the decision to give up the beauty of Middle-earth, which goes hand in hand with Valinor as an analogue for death and the afterlife.

The rank and file Elf, as Haldir revealed in this chapter, knows little or nothing about Valinor (especially the Elves not of Noldorin descent) -- indeed, it's almost ironic to see everyone describing Lórien as the fairest place on earth when Galadriel has clear knowledge of a place far more enchanting. Galadriel, with her intimate personal knowledge of Valinor, seems full of trepidation at the thought of returning. She is recognizant of its beauty ("I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew . . . And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden tree") which surely must be at the very least the equal of the beauty of Lórien ("Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore / And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor"), and yet she is not anxious to return (the second song refers to "Valimar" as "lost", and Galadriel questions "What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?") despite the fading treasures of Middle-earth ("While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears").

Of course all this closely mirrors our journey through life and our thoughts about the afterlife. This life is full of beauty ("the golden elanor"; "Ah! like gold fall the leaves in the wind, long years numberless as the wings of trees!") and sorrow ("the Elven-tears"), but it's all we know, for the moment. But we can practically feel our life slipping away from us, year by year, day by day ("The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away"), despite our best efforts to cling to the past and present ("Who now shall refill the cup for me?") What can we do? Many of us choose to hope for something more beyond this life ("Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon . . . by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree"; ". . . sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West, beneath the blue vaults of Varda wherein the stars tremble in the song of her voice, holy and queenly") that provides us with a way of living that points us towards an otherworldly goal. That hope is both beautiful ("I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew") and terrifying ("what ship would come to me, / What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?"; "Now lost, lost to those from the East is Valimar! Farewell!").

Such belief is conflicting and wonderful and terrible. Kind of like life… conflicting and wonderful and terrible. Sounds to me like Tolkien uses Galadriel to refer obliquely to this universal human condition.