[Child of the 7th Age]

But what of Frodo? Would he have returned to the Shire at peace with himself and the outcome of the quest? Would the Ship to the Undying Lands have sailed without him?

These are interesting questions but, to me, you can't get into this without looking at another issue which hasn't been discussed or resolved. Of the two options available--living in the Shire or going to the Blessed Lands--which of these is actually the "best" choice? In other words, leaving aside the question of the hero's need for healing, in which of these places could Frodo experience the highest level of growth, learning, happiess, and spiritual development? We would, of course, have to take into consideration Frodo's personality, past history, ties to family and friends, etc.

I think most modern readers automatically assume that it was somehow "better" for Frodo to remain in the Shire. After all, this is the concrete world that we understand and feel most comfortable with. These posters and even academic critics feel the Shire represents the "normal" life, and that Frodo departed for the Blessed Lands largely out of hurt and despair. The article "Too Deeply Hurt: Understanding Frodo's Decision to Depart" rests on this assumption. And how many pieces of fanfiction have I seen which attempt to give Frodo a wife or girlfriend or sometimes a child? In most cases, the presence of these individuals ties Frodo to the Shire and delays or negates his passage to the West. The implication of all this is that, since Frodo did not remain in the Shire, he failed in some significant regard by taking only the second best path in life, a failure which is related to but even goes beyond his "inability" to voluntarily dispose of the Ring. Often, Frodo's supposed failure is contrasted with the ability of Sam, as the "true" hero to return to the Shire and have a rich family life. (By the way, I think Sam would have blanched at such a comparison.)

At the risk of sounding heretical, I do not agree. Admittedly, there was an aftermath of sorrow, guilt, and terrible hurting which had a definite impact on Frodo's decision to depart Middle-earth and go to the Blessed Lands. There is also the fact that, there are things in the Shire Frodo is reluctant to leave--his relationship with Sam as well as the beauty and the richness of the Shire itself. We can hear sadness in his words when he explains to Sam that the Shire has been saved, but it is not for him.

But I would contend that these are only two pieces of a very complicated puzzle. By focusing solely on despair as a motivating force, we are missing other important aspects of Frodo's personality and denying the validity of passage to an admittedly more spiritual and blessed land. (Tolkien 's Letters clearly state that this is the nature of these lands.)

We seem to have a great desire to "normalize" Frodo. Frodo and even Bilbo did not totally fit into the life of the Shire--they were both seen as a bit odd by their neighbors. Now we, as the readers, ironically turn around and attempt to do the same thing to the characters as the people in the Shire were doing! We want them to fit in and make the kind of choices that we would personally make. We are reluctant to consider that there may be more than one path to finding happiness in life. I think Frodo and even Bilbo do not always fit our modern preconceptions. Both had been bachelors for long years by choice. I think we moderns also have trouble viewing the Blessed Lands as a refuge and spiritual haven. It's not exactly "heaven" but it's just too far away from our concrete conceptions of a happy life. Yet what sensitive person wouldn't want to live on an island from which you can actually see the distant mountains of Aman?

So let's look at some other pieces of the puzzle which may bear on this. First, Frodo has grown and developed in a way no other character has. Frodo's response to the Scouring of the Shire is very different from that of Merry, Pippen or even Sam. Ironically, Sarumen actually does a better job than modern critics recognizing and confirming this growth as seen by his final bitter words. In a very real sense, Frodo has spiritually "outgrown" the Shire and conventional hobbit society. Having followed the path of the mystic, seen truths unseen, and experienced that which is beyond comprehension and expression, Frodo has already withdrawn from the world. The procession to Grey Havens and the saiing to the West are merely a seal upon what has already occurred in his life.

There are many indications of this. Long before Frodo ever took the Ring, he wandered the roads at night and spoke with Elves (or so it was rumored) and earned the title "Elf-friend", an important distinction in Tolkien's writings. Something in Frodo always longed for a life beyond the conventional; it just didn't happen with his wounding in the quest. And what about Frodo's dreams, including his premonition in Tom's house regarding a distant and lovely green land? Or his referral in Rivendell to wanting to hear the sounds of the Sea? Not only is this a reference to the later voyage, but we know from the Silmarillion the voice of the Sea is the final vestige of the First Music of Iluvatar. These are spiritual dimensions in Frodo's personality which can not be denied.

I would also argue that Frodo's departure was not motivated solely by despair as this essay implies. Tolkien viewed despair as one of the very worst sins because it meant the individual was setting himself up in place of Eru. Only Eru can know the future. Since this is so, man is obligated to hope rather than despair. I don't think Tolkien wanted to say that Frodo was driven to the West purely by despair--this is contrary to his whole picture of the small hero motivated not by prowess or power but by obedience.

So if it is not despair, then what are we dealing with? I don't agree with the essay's suggestion that Frodo was a victim of trauma, or what is now termed post traumatic stress disorder. Unlike most victims of trauma, Frodo freely chose the road he took, understood at least some of the dangers before he started, and, at the end of the quest, could see that goodness had been sustained in part through his actions. This is not the model most applicable to Frodo's very real suffering and guilt. I see Frodo, instead, going through the process of grieving, grieving for the very real losses in his life, for his own imperfections and for the loss of the Ring itself.

I know I am influenced by personal experience in this, having dealt with the death of a child many years ago. At the time this happened, I was rereading Tolkien as one way to hold onto my reality, and I was totally struck by the fact that the way I was acting and the way Frodo reacted after th quest were virtually identical.

Grief is an incredible roller coaster of up and downs. There is room for suffering and guilt, and for incredible spiritual growth all in the same time frame. You feel as if you were walking around in a world with no protective shell or clothing. One minute you are managing to function, and, the next, things are totally out of control. You are extremely vulnerable to the good and bad in life. Grieving is enormously hard work that makes one so tired that it is difficult to participate in everyday life in any meaningful way, so you withdraw just as Frodo did. And your whole perception of"normal reality" changes. This is why Merry and Pippin comment as they return to the Shire that "it (i.e. the quest) seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded", while Frodo's reply is totally different: "Not to me...To me it feels more like falling asleep again." Frodo will never again have the same concept of reality.

Any grief counselor will tell you, that there is virtualy no way that you can change your attitude just by wishing or hoping for it. But what you can do, they consistently advise, is to change your behavior and the attitude change will follow. So a reaching out to old friends like Gandalf, Galadriel, and Bilbo; a sailing to the West for healing--these are things that can eventually bring at least a partial resolution of grief. In fact the worst thing you can do when grieving is to sit and do nothing over an extended period of time. This is what leads to despair. So Frodo's reaching out to Elvenhome is not the trip born out of desperation which this essay suggests, but rather a posiive step to try and go forward and resolve some very personal, spiritual issues.

Finally, there is the sad reality of life that choices mean taking one path and forgoing what lies down the other. There may be lovely things lying on both roads, but you can only select one. This too is the situation facing Frodo. How can you measure or weigh Frodo's affection for Sam as opposed to his feelings for Bilbo? Whatever he does, he will gain one and lose the other. If Frodo stays with Merry and Pippin, never again will he see Galadriel and Gandalf. And, in my heart, I am quite sure these two would have kept an eye on Frodo to make certain things went well in the West. The Shire is beautiful, but so too is the Ocean. And in the Blessed Lands mortals may chose the time and place of their death, an option many of us would prefer. Given all this tangled web of emotion and conflicting desires, Frodo made the best choice he could, not the second best path in life, but the road that was meant for him. With Gandalf's help, perhaps, he learned in the Blessed Lands to forgive his own shortcomings just as he had learned to be merciful to others. And we are left behind with sorrow, since what happens in the West, unlike what happens in the Shire, is simply not accessible to us as finite creatures. We can only sit and wonder what the next page in Frodo's life might have been like. sharon, the 7th age hobbit.
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[ April 17, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]