LotR -- Book 1 - Chapter 11 - A Knife in the Dark

[Mark]

I would also like to point something out in this chapter.

Mr. Butterbur: 'Never has such a thing happened in my time!' he cried, raising his hands in horror. 'Guests unable to sleep in their beds, and good bolsters ruined and all! What are we coming to?"

'Dark times,' said Strider.

I like this part for the calmness of Strider, how he just answered Butterbur simply, and always with the proud voice. He also assured Butterbur that after their leave, the town would be left in peace, "for the present". I think Strider gave Butterbur enough hints of what was going on there. They were being chased by Black Men from Mordor. It surprises me that Butterbur had not reacted to this, he "hurried off to see that the ponies were in order". Another thing that should flash infront of Butterbur was the fact that the ponies were "gone". I think then Butterbur began to fear, and how he searched the whole town and got them one pony, also gave them some money, I sense that Butterbur was afraid, afraid that if these people didnt go, the attacks would presume.

Another part I really like about this chapter was when they were with no horse, and Strider asked the hobbits how much they could carry.

Strider: 'How much are you prpared to carry on your backs?'
'As much as we must' said Pippin with a sinking heart, but trying to show that he was tougher than he looked (or felt).
'I can carry enough for two," said Sam defiantly.

I like this for the strength of the hobbits, even though they were tired, and said those words with sinking hearts, they were prepared to carry "As much as we must". Sam would have carried the bags of everyone if he'd had the strength. I can only imagine that Sam was saying to Strider "I can carry mine and Frodo's!", which is probably something he would do. Again, we are proven the hobbits love for each other exists.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

This chapter, in addition to being wonderfully suspenseful and – for my money – the “real” beginning of the Quest, explores an important idea in LotR: knowledge and awareness. More specifically, this whole chapter is organised, in a way, around the question of who knows or is aware of what.

At the ‘higher end’ of this spectrum, we have Elrond who, as Aragorn tells us, is the only living being (in Middle Earth) who knows the full tale of the Lay of Luthien. Aragorn, however, knows at the very least a good chunk of it himself; what is more, he knows that he is part of that story – more specifically that his life is going to provide the end of the story. In effect, he knows that “the end is not known” and thus that it is up to him to give that tale an ending: be it good or bad. Aragorn and Elrond are related to one another in this way: Elrond knows the tale, but as an outsider – it’s not his story. Aragorn knows that the story is not just about him, but the story of his life and existence. He doesn’t just know or see history (the Tale), he is aware of his place in it.

The other fragment of lore we have is Sam’s song of Gil-Galad. Interestingly, when he finishes it he says:

'There was a lot more,' said Sam, 'all about Mordor. I didn't learn that part, it gave me the shivers. I never thought I should be going that way myself!'
'Going to Mordor!' cried Pippin. 'I hope it won't come to that!'
'Do not speak that name so loudly!' said Strider.

Here, Sam is being compared to Aragorn (fittingly, since they are the two heroes whose journeys are the most similar – toward their wives). Like Aragorn he is aware of the story he’s in, and what’s more, he’s aware that the story is his own – he realises that he is on the road to Mordor (which is fascinating since apparently nobody else knows this until the Council of Elrond?). At the same time, Sam acknowledges that he “didn’t learn that part” about Mordor: unlike Aragorn, there are parts of the story (that he’s now caught in) that he doesn’t want to know about. He’s more intuitive than anything else – realisation without understanding. Aragorn does understand, perhaps all too well, for he is afraid even to mention the name of Mordor. Remember how the people of Bree are able to be happy only by being kept unaware of their danger. And Aragorn intentionally hides the identities of the Nazgûl from the hobbits for fear that the knowledge would scare them too much. Aragorn has no such luxury – he knows the full extent of the darkness and the danger.

Pippin demonstrates another response, distinct from Aragorn (who knows too much?) and Sam (who knows more than he wants to?). When Pippin cries out that he hopes they won’t have to go to Mordor, he shows off his innocence and his naïveté – he doesn’t want to know about the darkness, thank you very much.

This brings me to Frodo, who I think is moving from a Pippin state (innocence), into an Aragorn state (experience), via a Sam state (intuition):

They stood for a while silent on the hill-top, near its southward edge. In that lonely place Frodo for the first time full realized his homelessness and danger. He wished bitterly that his fortune had left him in the quiet of the beloved Shire. He stared down at the hateful Road, leading back westward – to his home. Suddenly he was aware that two black specks were moving slowly along it, going westward; and looking again he saw that three others were creeping eastward to meet them. He gave a cry and clutched Strider's arm.

The first thing Frodo realises is “his homelessness and danger.” This defines what Aragorn’s whole life has been; in this way, Frodo is recognising that he is now entering into a world of experience beyond “the quiet of the beloved Shire” that Sam will eventually be able to return to and enjoy. This recognition comes when he sees the Black Riders on the Road; this is painfully true – the shadows of Mordor have taken over the Road of his life and existence, casting him out of the Shire (Sam’s state) and into the wilderness (Aragorn’s). It is this kind of awareness and recognition that Pippin does not have, insofar as he does not ‘see’ the Riders; in fact, of all the hobbits, he has the least to do with them.

Which brings me to Merry who, as we’ve already been saying, has a lot to do with the Nazgûl. Throughout this chapter Merry is once more taking care of practical matters. He is the one who asks Aragorn about the meaning of the sign left by Gandalf; he's the one who comments on the lack of shelter food and water at Weathertop; he's the one who asks Aragorn how far to Rivendell. In this sense, he if very much, I think, the practical/pragmatic version of Frodo. He's also looking at the Road, but in terms of how they are going to traverse it.

So there are some interesting patterns between the characters here, I think. On the one hand are Frodo and Merry, the hobbits who are looking to the Road (the present?). On the other are Sam and Pippin, who are looking, or not looking, toward the end of the Road: Mordor (the future?). Aragorn seems to have the only ‘all around’ view – he is aware of the past, aware of the dangers in the present, and aware of his potential future, both good and bad.

If any of this holds water, isn’t it fitting that this chapter takes place upon a hill with a long and panoramic view of Middle-Earth? (I second davem on the power of this moment: I still catch my breath at the description of the lands about the hill – it really is the first moment at which Middle-Earth fully comes alive in the book).

[Hilde Bracegirdle]

'…But long before, in the first days of the Northern Kingdom, they built a great watch-tower on Weathertop. Amon Sûl they called it. It was burned and broken, and nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill's head. Yet once it was tall and fair. It is told that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West, in the days of the Last Alliance.'

This is also a passage that made the story come alive for me, granted not at the first reading. But I can picture it vividly, and wonder if Gandalf also looked to the West for Frodo, before he was otherwise occupied.

EDIT: Rereading this post, the way the ruin is discribed as being like a rough crown, is a bit like Aragorn himself, untidy and yet significant.

[HerenIstarion]

Both poems create sense of depth, of something beyond and beneath the actual storyline the reader is engaged in. The 'realness' of the world is achieved by means of inclusion of such 'legendary' poetry.

I won't comment upon Beren and Luthien, the poem literally sends shivers down my spine, but I'm willing to expend our conversation to Gil-Galad poem a bit:

Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.

Poignantly enough, the song is recited by least expected person, Sam, whom the words said about Bilbo in the beginning of the Hobbit apply to too - something about being far less prosaic then he himself chose to believe. Implication is, besides, that hobbits, despite being commonplace farmers, haven't entirely forgotten old lore

Besides, though it is not hobbit verse proper, it is too, like all other hobbit-songs, quite ambivalent in its meaning, running deeper than first glance may reveal. Especially the last line:

in Mordor where the shadows are

may be read in two ways. Firstly, we know that Mordor is indeed the land where the smokes and clouds cover the sky, so there are shadows in there. The verse simply describes the landscape, as it is at the certain place on the map of ME.

But, remembering [in?]famous 'Canonicity' and Evil Things threads, this is another instant were Tolkien balances on the verge between two concepts of Evil - is it of independent being, does it exist? Or is it inexistent, parasite on the body of Good? This single line is worth a whole book on philosophy, I can't help admiring Tolkien's art. The Shadows, in themselves non-existent thing, caused by lack of light, absence, not presence, Are. So, Mordor is the place where non-existent things exist, the personification of Evil, the place were Evil has physical expression into the world.

cheers

[mark12_30]

I deeply love both these poems. For those geared towards singing:


Beren And Luthien

Grimmer quality, but the tune is discernable:

Gilgalad

[Child of the 7th Age]

A few days ago Aiwendil said this:

This poem brings up an interesting point. It is often remarked that a large part of the appeal of LotR lies in its sense of depth - the feeling that there is a 'real' history, filled with stories, that leads up to the present action. And of course there really is a history that lies before LotR - the Silmarillion.

Aiwendil pointed out that most of the historical references in LotR really refer to the Alkallabêth rather than Silm per se....a point I find intriguing. But I wanted to go back to his initial statement: the whole idea that part of the appeal of LotR lies in its sense of depth, with real history leading up to the present circumstances.

These historical references not only give the reader the illusion of depth, but, when taken together, perhaps mirror one of Tolkien's essential themes: the failures of the past weighing down on the heads of Men, and the limitations and challenges posed by that string of failures. To put it bluntly, either the free peoples of Middle-earth overcome the failings of those who went before them or they fall into unending darkness, and there is no turning of the page to the Fourth Age. I am not saying this is allegory (heaven forbid!) but it does sound strangely compelling when set against the history of the twentieth century, which had a similar lesson for us.

The first two chapters say it all. We are presented with the Hobbits, a stubborn and insular, albeit a delightful people, who can not or will not remember or recall their past. In both UT and LotR, Tolkien indicates the Hobbits have little recollection even of their own history and have forgotten many things they used to know. In complete juxtaposition to this, Tolkien entitles the very next chapter "Shadows of the Past" to show the intrusion of the Ring. These two contrasting images can not be accidental.

In succeeding chapters, we begin to get a glimpse of further intrusions of the past upon the present. This takes a variety of forms, some known to the reader and others only hinted at. The first is the Hobbits' meeting with Gildor. As an Elf, Gildor is the mirror image of the Hobbits in one important respect: Elves spend much of their energy dwelling on the past and trying to reconstruct it. The true identity of the Ringwraiths hearkens back to ancient things as well as Bomabadil's poignant description of the Rangers :

Few now remember them...yet still some go wandering, sons of forgotten kings walking in loneliness, guarding from evil things folk that are heedless.

(Those "folk who are heedless" can certainly be read as Hobbits who have forgotten the past.)

But it's only in this particular chapter that the historical theme begins to take center stage. There are three or four incidents in this chapter that underline the fact that past and present are becoming mixed. The Hobbits are not only travelling geographically: they are becoming entangled with disputes and problems that are very, very old. And just as Tolkien is careful to describe the geography of Middle-earth to help us visualize what type of land the Hobbits are travelling through, he is also careful to lay out the historical setting.

First, there are the physical remains that the Hobbits see as they approach Weathertop:

the remains of green-grown walls and dikes, and in the clefts there still stood the ruins of old works of stone.

Added to this is the fact that the paths are constructed in a particular way because of ancient battles against the Witch King (at least the Hobbits would consider them 'ancient'). Even more telling, there is Sam's poem of Gil-galad and Aragorn's tale of Tinúviel, which also includes a lengthy history lesson given to the Hobbits.

It is Aragorn who is the linchpin in all of this. Once Tolkien got rid of Trotter and substituted Aragorn, he discovered that his storyline was not only moving forward in terms of miles, but moving backwards in terms of themes and antecedents. In chapters to come, Aragorn will take us to Rivendell -- the seat of ancient lore -- and finally to Lothlorien, where we will actually go outside time.

The "knife in the dark" that comes hurtling at Frodo is quite literally out of the past. And the cry that he issues -- O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! --is also a glimmering from the past: most contemporary free peoples of Middle-earth, with the exception of Elves, were blithely unaware of Varda's existence, since the Valar now had little to do with Arda. It is this sense of the past intruding on the present that intrgues me in this chapter, and many others to come.

[davem]

Originally Posted by Child

It is this sense of the past intruding on the present that intrgues me in this chapter, and many others to come.

I agree, & yet the whole point of the story seems to be to break the link with the past which binds not just the characters but their whole world. The Ring, it seems, is what ties the present to the past, & prevents things moving forward - things seem to just go around in circles - it is a story of 'many defeats & many fruitless victories', of 'fighting the long defeat'. When the Ring is destroyed the 'circle' is broken, the elves embalming process comes to an end & things finally start to change. I think this leads us back to Fordim's Road & Ring theory. The Ring (& we shouldn't forget that the Elves are responsible for the whole 'ring' idea in the first place) is the true symbol of Middle earth, because its a world of inevitable repetitions, where the past not only affects but determines the future. The Ring is myth & magic, & in its' world there can never be any escape or forward movement. So, we can have the world of magic & wonder, of elves wandering through the forests, but we also have to take Sauron & the Ring with it - or we can destroy the Ring, lose the magic & (the intensity of) the wonder & be free to move. From this perspective, we can understand Tolkien's statement that 'the whole of Arda was Morgoth's Ring' in a new light. This is the point of Sauron's actions/desire - he desires the kind of absolute control that will keep the world turned inward on itself (as he is turned inward on himself), endlessly repeating itself.

I can't help wondering whether Tolkien's decision to choose the Ring as the focus for 'The New Hobbit' determined ultimately what the story would become, & why he could say 'it wrote itself'. Once the ring becomes the motivating force of the story, the world of the story is shaped around it, & its destruction inevitably means the end of that world.

This gives the lie (if that were still necessary) to the idea that LotR is simply good guys vs bad guys. The Ring is Middle earth, Middle earth is the Ring, & the end of one is inevitably the end of the other. I don't know whether in the end we can call Tolkien an optimist or a pessimist - optimist certainly, in that by bringing the old world of the 'eternal return' (whoa! back to the Nazis!!!) to an end, but also a pessimist in that he seems to believe that only by rejecting the 'wonder' & high magic can we be liberated. He gives us Middle earth only to take it away, & like the elves we are left only with memory (which is not what the heart desires, as someone once said).