[Child of the 7th Age]

Littlemanpoet,

It's fun dredging these old threads up and rereading them again, and seeing what new thoughts come popping out. I am surprized that I didn't respond to this one earlier, since I tend to post heavily on Hobbit and Frodo threads.

I found it interesting that you now see the Hobbits as "childlike". There are certainly elements of that in the story, especially since the race as a whole evolved out of a children's book. I'm not sure I would agree with you that the touch of "Elvish sensibility" was also indicative of a childlike nature. In fact, I would probably say the opposite. Those Hobbits like Sam and especially Frodo who acquire not only an appreciation of Elves, but a true understanding of their ways and nature, are the ones who've gone furthest from their roots. In effect, they have left a chunk of their childhood behind and are reaching towards adulthood.

I do think there is an element of that personal evolution in Bilbo's journey in The Hobbit: entire books have been written on how the quest was one of maturation. A similar argument could be made for all four of the Hobbits in LotR . Just as we have the greater journey taking place to destroy the Ring itself, we also have lesser, individual journeys whose end result will also be to break down and change the people involved: what we start out with and what we end up with are not the same, especially for the Hobbits. And all of this will eventually have an impact on the Shire community and its innocence.

Perhaps, this process of maturation is one of the underlying realities that makes Frodo's tale so poignant. In this regard, I am wondering if Tolkien was influenced, especially in regard to Frodo, by his experiences as a father and the fact that he himself had such a wrenching transition to adulthood through the intervention of WWI.

Of course, we'll never really know, and the author would probably look askance at any attempt to link up things in his writing with his personal bio. And yet, when a child reaches adolescence and begins to make their own choices, parents watch with bated breath to see what the outcome might be. Will life be kind or cruel? Will the choices offered be such that the young adult can navigate successfully through the storms and shoals to what every parent wants for his child: a meaningful and contented life. It is so hard to sit and watch a child be confronted with things to which there are no answer. Tolkien certainly knew that harsh reality, seeing his own close friends who had led a sheltered, childlike existence suddenly confronted by the intervention of war. And too often in real life, we see something happen on the road through adolescence that takes a promising child and turns him on his head, eventually destroying his life or his nature.

Frodo may have been "fifty" in chronological terms, but there is another sense in which he too was a child before he began his journey with the Ring: more inquisitive and reflective perhaps than most of his neighbors, yet still at heart someone who had never been asked to mature. A "child" may have been the only one who could carry the Ring with reasonable safety. Yet, the true irony is that once a child takes up the Ring he can no longer remain a child. There is a wrenching process of internal readjustment that is hinted at throughout the story. And while maturity came to all four of the Hobbits on their journey, Frodo's experience was markedly different. Three of the Hobbits successfully navigated their adolesence to a full and active adulthood and participation in the community. They each ended up with families and lives of their own. Yet one did not, and there is something terribly sad about that.

We've had a thousand threads which asked "why Frodo?" Wouldn't someone else have been a better choice? And then we go on to name the likely candidates: most often Samwise. We've identified all Frodo's numerous "flaws": his tendency to whine and see himself as a lone martyr, a certain underlying pessimism, even his procrastination. Yet, in the end, this is one case where I have to take the author at his word. In his Letters, UT, and LotR itself, we are told that Bilbo and Frodo were the only two that could have pulled this thing off. And if we consider the backdrop of the Silm, where time and time again the great Elvish and Mannish heroes fell flat on their faces, this is an amazing thing to say. How sad then to have the "best of the Shire" be lost to the Shire community.

Bilbo's life was bent out of shape far enough that he had to leave the Shire and go to Rivendell to be with Elves: a clear admission both of his growth and the healing that he needed as well as a foreshadowing of what will happen to his nephew. Frodo's own experience was far more wrenching. This will be no gentle transition such as Bilbo had, but a far more painful process. Of all the Hobbits in the Shire, it is Frodo who reaches out the furthest and experiences the greatest degree of change. He is the one who becomes the Elven friend, most fully articulates the meaning of mercy, and eventually reaches a profound understanding of the destructive nature of violence and war. Yet, because of the experience he's been through, each of these changes comes at a terrible price. There is an infinite sense of sadness to see the child Frodo systematically destroyed and replaced by an adult who is so deeply hurt.

Perhaps I've come a long way from community....but perhaps not. We need to understand not only what makes up the community but what breaks it down, what causes it to dminish. And in this case, the Shire lost its very best. Could Frodo have contributed to the community, or was he simply so far ahead of it that his lessons would have fallen on deaf ears?

The Hobbits and the Shire itself did mature beyond childhood at the end of the book, largely through the mechanism of the Scouring. (In that sense PJ really blew it, since we see a Shire unchanged.) Yet, even that reconstituted community will not be the answer for Frodo. All the community and good will in the world sometimes can not make up for the tough realities of life. And it is that sense of underlying fragility that makes the Hobbit community "precious": despite all the bumps and abrasions, despite the loss of the "best" Hobbit of all, the community still manages to find itself and blossom again at the end of the book.