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

[Hookbill the Goomba]

It was while reading this chapter that I began to realise something. Only once does Strider live up to his name! That is in the Two Towers when he is one of the three hunters; at no other point is it mentioned about Aragorn’s ability to go about at a great pace. If he did then the Hobbits would not have been able to keep up with him having only very small and short feet.
It almost seemed to me like Tolkien forgot about it and went on with the story regardless.
Any comments?

[Encaitare]

There's the one definition of stride, which is just to walk at a fast pace. But think about it; when someone walks at a stride they're feeling pretty confident, like they own the place. Maybe the name implies a great underlying confidence that Strider has, and the fact that he's nearly always sure of himself, and his ability to deal with problems that come upon them as they make it to Rivendell.

[Aiwendil]

The pace quickens as we near the end of Book I. After two chapters spent at the Prancing Pony, this one takes us as far as Weathertop - halfway to Rivendell. And there is more to the chapter than just the journey: there is the attack at Crickhollow, the business to be settled in Bree, and of course the attack on Weathertop.

The cut to Crickhollow is momentarily disorienting to the reader. It is, after all, the first time since chapter 1 that we have a scene not involving our main Hobbits. The real function of the scene is of course to tell us that the Black Riders have found out the pretense of Frodo's living at Crickhollow - this knowledge naturally heightens the sense of danger we feel for the Hobbits.

Frodo seems almost to respond to the events in Buckland - he wakes from a deep sleep (as per the alarm of the Bucklanders - AWAKE! AWAKE!). He dreams then of wind and hoofs and even hears a horn-call - though it turns out to be a cock crowing in Bree. Again, the danger is heightened when it is found that the decoys have been slashed. All this makes the following events - the negotiation of a bargain for Bill Ferny's horse, the journey through the marshes, and the approach to Weathertop - more engaging than they would otherwise have been. Without the setup, the sense of danger and suspense would not be so great.

Strider takes the Hobbits on their third shortcut. The first spared them an encounter with a Black Rider and led them to Maggot - altogether a success. The second led them into a great deal of trouble - the Old Forest, the Barrow-downs - but also led them to Bombadil. Again, they evaded the Black Riders. But we all know the rule of three - twice establishes a pattern; thrice breaks it. So it is with the three little pigs and so it is with the shortcuts. This time they cannot evade the Nazgul.

The actual attack by the Nazgul is actually rather short - just about one page. But that one page does far more than Jackson can do with his action set piece. Just as, within the story, it is the fear caused by the Nazgul that is their chief weapon, so the chief technique Tolkien uses to engage the reader in this incident (as throughout Book I) is tension rather than action. The key to the scene is not the physical attack that comes in the very last paragraph; it is the slow approach of the Nazgul, the perception of them as a very powerful danger, the suspense that results from the certainty that there must eventually be a confrontation. Tolkien builds that suspense to the breaking point, only to ease off a little and save the real confrontation for the final chapter of Book I.

We have also in this chapter Aragorn's song of Beren and Luthien - in my opinion, one of Tolkien's finest bits of verse. The rhyme scheme is not too complex, but quite effective: ABACBABC. The first C line of each stanza always feels just slightly unexpected, as if we assume it will rhyme with B - then not only does it fail to rhyme, it also ends with two unstressed syllables instead of a single stressed one. The result is a sort of unresolved, trailing off feeling that pulls us along to the end of the stanza, where finally sense is made of the C line.

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 sense 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. It's also been said (even by Tolkien) that LotR became more of a sequel to the Silmarillion than to The Hobbit. But just how many references to the Quenta Silmarillion itself are there? Not as many as you might think. Aragorn's talk of Beren and Luthien is probably the biggest reference. But even here, we are told only about a single incident in the story of Beren and Luthien - their meeting. Elsewhere there is a reference to Ancalagon; mention is made of Hador and Turin; there is Bilbo's poem about Earendil; there is the Balrog; Thangorodrim is mentioned. But most of these are just superficial references. The important events of the Silmarillion are not discussed at all. Even in the two big history chapters - I-2 and II-2 - nothing substantive is said about the First Age. The history that lies behind LotR, and that is alluded to in LotR, is for the most part not the Quenta Silmarillion of the First Age but rather the events of the Second Age and the Third Age. The Fall of Gil-Galad, Aragorn's kingship, the Rings, the Barrow-downs - all of the history that really matters to LotR comes from the Second and Third Ages.

This is interesting because, whereas the tales of the First Age were already very much in existence (and had been rewritten four or more times already), the history of the Second and Third Ages did not actually predate the writing of LotR very much, if at all. The story of Numenor had only been conceived in the 1930s. The history of Gondor and Arnor, and of the Rings, did not exist at all until LotR. So, when Tolkien came to develop the sequel to The Hobbit into a real epic, rather than drawing inspiration from the writings he had spent so much time on over the past twenty-five years, he more or less built things from the ground up. He connected LotR with the Silmarillion, to be sure, but the connection was a distant one, with two whole ages in between. LotR is more a sequel to the Akallebeth than it is to the Silmarillion.

Sorry if it sounds like I'm rambling - these are thoughts forming as I'm writing. What I wonder is - 1. Why is there so little of the Silmarillion itself in LotR? and 2. What does this say about the bits of the Silmarillion that do make it into LotR - Aragorn's poem for instance?

[mark12_30]

Originally Posted by Aiwendil

Aragorn's talk of Beren and Luthien is probably the biggest reference. But even here, we are told only about a single incident in the story of Beren and Luthien - their meeting. Elsewhere there is a reference to Ancalagon; mention is made of Hador and Turin; there is Bilbo's poem about Earendil; there is the Balrog; Thangorodrim is mentioned. But most of these are just superficial references. The important events of the Silmarillion are not discussed at all. Even in the two big history chapters - I-2 and II-2 - nothing substantive is said about the First Age. The history that lies behind LotR, and that is alluded to in LotR, is for the most part not the Quenta Silmarillion of the First Age but rather the events of the Second Age and the Third Age. The Fall of Gil-Galad, Aragorn's kingship, the Rings, the Barrow-downs - all of the history that really matters to LotR comes from the Second and Third Ages.

Aiwendil-- I would (mostly) agree; except for the whole splintered light concept. Bilbo's poem serves to set up Sam later: Galadriel's phial is from Earendil, and Sam recognizes it and ties the story all the way back to the silmarils. And there is Gandalf's cmmment in the House of Elrond that Frodo would become like a clear glass filled with light, for those to see who can.

Whether one calls this major or minor I suppose depends on how much one focuses on the symbolism of the light.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

This chapter is packed full of excitement! The title could refer to two different knives, both wielded by the Nazgul; one at the beginning at Crickhollow ("a drawn blade gleamed"), the other, with more far-reaching results, stabbing Frodo at Weathertop at the end of the chapter.

It is certainly suspenseful, especially at first reading, that Tolkien manages to tell of the attack on Crickhollow and leave the readers uncertain whether Fatty was able to escape.

This is the last time Fatty Bolger is mentioned until the end of the story, in the Scouring, where he is shown to have played a very courageous role as a rebel. Here he flees from danger, but that is a good thing, as he arouses Buckland by doing so. At least he becomes active, by way of contrast to his former complacency.

The two locations are connected by Frodo's dream and by the cock crowing at both locations. That gives us a hint that both attacks are coordinated, though we do not read about that side of the story here. "The Hunt for the Ring" in Unfinished Tales gives us background information concerning the Nazgul activities.

Two of the poems in this chapter are recited by Tolkien in the JRRT Audio Collection recording - that of Gil-Galad and the tale of Tinúviel. I have the CDs and will make an effort to listen to them soon to see what the sound of his voice adds to the words.

The tales in this chapter add a lot of depth to the LotR story, and certainly whetted the appetite of many readers for the Silmarillion!

What parts of this long and eventful chapter appeal to you especially?

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Let me add a few adjectives. This chapter is dark and deep like a pool under the mountains. It is not scary like the Barrow-Downs chapter was, but it is just dark. The beginning shows the horror of horrors - the words "in the name of Mordor!" spoken in the Shire itself. And this is the last time we see something from the Shire (unless you count Sam's vision in the Mirror) until the Scouring. And I believe, even though there is not any actual evidence on that, but this is the feeling this chapter gives me: that this is the moment of breakdown, the moment from which the evil in the Shire starts to accumulate rapidly and culminates in the murder of Lotho. Why the passage gives me such feeling, may have several reasons; if I were to try to find some concrete points, I'm not sure, but I can mention at least the fact that the Horn-call of Buckland is blown: and what more, it is blown even though it "had not been sounded for a hundred years, not since the white wolves came in the Fell Winter, when the Brandywine was frozen over." With the same horn, as we read later, it also ends. Also, the character of Fatty connects both the occassions. I completely agree with what Esty said - Fatty's character here is given the actual experience of horror, but I'm inclined to think that this really served him later well and here is the source of his later courage as a rebel leader.

The chapter is really quite long, at least when you compare it to the several former ones, but I must say I was very surprised when I read it ("oh, it's the end already?"). It's so "epic" so that it seemed to me maybe shorter than the chapters before.

When I read it for the first time, I remember I liked all this stuff about the "Great Enemy" ("Huh! Who's that? Yes, that's Morgoth, I know, I heard the name somewhere - but he must have been cool! And 'Sauron was only his servant' - what's this? THAT Sauron who is the great and indestructible evil around here was just a servant of this one? Gotta read the Silmarillion."). On the other hand, I did not want to read the poem of Beren and Lúthien - way too long and uninteresting (for a 8-year old boy). Obviously, even the reader's taste changes as he grows, as I really enjoyed the poem when reading it now. It is just beautiful!

I said this chapter is deep. This reflects these tales of Beleriand, Beren, Lúthien, Silmarils and even Gil-Galad. It's all too ancient, and indeed, Strider's speech about it is really quite long. I would say very long. Had I been a heartless critic or editor, I'd say: "Mr. Tolkien, we don't care about nonsenses from ancient ages. It makes no sense there and has no actual connection with the story. You may as well skip it and save some paper." But I am not a heartless critic nor editor, and I like the fact that it's there

What I like very much are also all the things with Rangers - we learn quite a lot about them (that they come to Weathertop, and between the lines we learn also that they keep some paths in the hills etc.). I was always wondering who were these Rangers who were recently on Weathertop, where were they going to and from when, and whether they knew about the Riders and what happened to them...

And there's a very good trick concerning Gandalf in the chapter. If you take care of it when you read, Strider mentions at the beginning of the chapter that if Gandalf follows them, he would be heading to Weathertop as well. Note please, we still don't have a clue what happened to Gandalf! It's most likely, from the current view of the characters, that he's simply lost for good. But as the chapter moves on, there are several almost anachronistic looking quotes that seem to imply that the characters actually expect to find Gandalf on Weathertop, like they knew that he was following them! We, as readers who have read the book more than once, of course know that he indeed is - but how do the characters know? But, of course, by the end of the chapter, this is verified (or at least made likely) by finding Gandalf's tracks and "message" by him on Weathertop.

This chapter is also where we can "see" the Nazgul in their true shape. This is also a touch of the unknown, and I liked it very much from the first time I read it: as well as all the information about the Riders that Strider says to Merry. By the way, I just got a funny idea: why is Merry so curious about the Riders' nature, like whether they can see or so? Is he collecting information for further use? Or more seriously, is he overcoming the experience of his encounter with a Nazgul in Bree by asking about such things? When you know something, you are not afraid of it anymore...

And, concerning the Nazgul attack. It seems strange that the narration about the old days and Beren and Lúthien almost fluently passes into the Nazgul attack. And it does not seem contrasting in any way to me, which I find odd. But is there also something more - I'm getting the strange idea that the narration held the Nazgul back from attacking. They attack only after Aragorn finishes the tale. It's just the weird feeling: had the tale to be completed so that the Nazgul were allowed to attack? And what would that mean...?

And one more thing I just thought I might point out. Esty in fact said it, but I will emphasise it a little bit: this chapter starts with a Nazgul attack, and ends with a Nazgul attack. What more, Esty said it starts with a knife and it ends with a knife. I think it's a clever literary figure, but even if it's just a coincidence, it's nice.

[Rumil]

Now, where were we?

Right, a Knife In The Dark.

Fredregar and the Nazgul, I've often thought this bit suitably sinister

There was a blow, soft but heavy, and the door shuddered.
'Open, in the name of Mordor!' said a voice thin and menacing.

I think this gets across the strange mix of covert secrecy and overt power that the Nazgul possess. The blow is soft, secret, but heavy, powerful. The voice is thin, secret, but menacing, powerful, the name of Mordor strikes fear in both ways, no wonder the door 'shuddered'.

On the other hand, the Nazgul may be secret and powerful, but not used to dealing with resourceful hobbits. It was a bit of an oversight not to have one wraith watching the back door!

Nazgul communication - they co-ordinate the attacks on Fred and the Prancing Pony, coincidence, or something Osanwe-ish going on? Also Frodo's sleep is disturbed by hooves and horns, is he, by virtue of possession of the ring, somehow subconciously 'tapping in' to the communiction or moods of the Nazgul?

Why should there be so few draught animals for sale in Bree? Two possible answers I think. First it was autumn so animals are insurance against a hard winter, and could be eaten if the food runs out, perhaps more would be available in spring and summer. Second, the party is obviously outlandish and dangerous (to a Breelander's way of thinking!), best not to get involved, even if Bob the barman is asking.

Another minor point is that Bree has bolsters rather than pillows, making it seem slightly foreign to us Brits who always prefer a pillow or two to French-style bolsters!

Bree-Land, obvious when you think about it but Bree must have been more than the towns and villages of Bree, Archet, Coombe and Staddle. Presumably much in the way of fields, coppices and perhaps isolated farms too. I wonder how far it extended away from the village of Bree itself.

Who are the other spies?

Not all the birds are to be trusted and there are spies more evil than they are.

I don't think Aragorn is referring to the Nazgul here, or Bill Ferny et al, what is he on about then? Surely not the squirrels!

Aragorn warns the hobbits about saying 'wraith' or 'Mordor'. Its a common idea that if you say their names you will attract attention from devils, spirits, sorcerors etc. Is this true in Middle Earth? (Getting a bit You-Know-Who here!)

The poems. I think its revealing that the party know that they are about to be attacked, and this is the point the poetry comes out. I think they are tense and 'keyed-up' waiting for the encounter, they have to stay awake, but must talk together to avoid falling prey to their indivdual fears. What better than poems of ancient heros and heroines? (Considering that a resounding song would be a bad move in this situation). Good morale management by Aragorn!

Finally, egregiously OT, but when I get to this chapter I've always had an urge to sing 'A shot in the dark, a big question mark' (Toyah, the 80s, don't ask)

[Mithalwen]

I agree here with Encaitare ..... especially since it was his Bree nickname .... to the Breelanders, the rangers were more or less vagabonds - in the classic phrase "IDHTBOM" - but I think Butterbur says something like he "strides about on those long-shanks of his" It much have seemed strange to the Bree people that someone who seemed like a tramp went about with a sense of purpose. It is also a reminder that Aragorn is different physically as well in lifestyle and mentality to the men of Bree ...... literally and metaphorically "above" them... I think Sam comes through strongly in this chapter ..... shows some of the qualities that will ensure the success of the quest... aspects which were largely neglected in the film. Although Sam is always respectful he is not automatically cowed by his "betters" - he speaks his mind to Aragorn, Glorfindel, Elrond, Faramir and no doubt others who don't spring instantly to mind, he shows his native intelligence both in suspecting Strider (quite reasonable in the circumstances) , and by his having learnt of the fall of Gil-Galad ... I have said more about Sam's education in "Master Samwise can read" and don't want to repeat ... but I do think it is interesting that Sam begins to come into his own when all the hobbits are in unfamiliar territory. Perhaps in the Shire and Bree he was more aware of the difference in education and experience and social status ..... out in the wilds being the heir of the Thain or the Master doesn't count for so much..... but perhaps I am reading too much into it.

[davem]

Originally Posted by Aiwendil

We have also in this chapter Aragorn's song of Beren and Luthien - in my opinion, one of Tolkien's finest bits of verse. The rhyme scheme is not too complex, but quite effective: ABACBABC. The first C line of each stanza always feels just slightly unexpected, as if we assume it will rhyme with B - then not only does it fail to rhyme, it also ends with two unstressed syllables instead of a single stressed one. The result is a sort of unresolved, trailing off feeling that pulls us along to the end of the stanza, where finally sense is made of the C line.

Just to note that anyone interested in this poem should get hold of the volume Tolkien's Legendarium, & read the essay 'Three Elvish Verse Modes', especially the section on ann-thennath.

One thing that did strike me this time was what the Nazgul did to the hobbits beds in the inn - the sheer frenzy of the attack is appalling. Its as if they lost control of themselves - yet in other parts of the book we get the sense of them as cold & calculating. Its as if they can only function on two 'levels', one where everything is organised, ritualised, structured - even their cruelty, & the other where they kind of explode in an animal frenzy.

Finally, & this probably belongs in the HoME companion thread, so I'll keep it short: its interesting that in the original draft its Trotter who is eating the apple & throws it at Bill Ferny, not Sam. Its as if when Trotter becomes Strider, that 'apple-throwing' part of him is transferred to Sam - maybe this helps explain the sudden development of Sam's character which Mithalwen mentions.

[Mithalwen]

I wonder if the fact that it was night was a factor..... with reference to Davem's point about the Nazgul attack ..... because you could look at it the other way and say that on other occasions they were restrained.... I mean they didn't kill any hobbits they encountered when looking for "baggins" as I recall .... not that they needed to ....but they would have not risked much in the way of reprisals... but when they are in inn they attack all the beds ..... less risk of commotion maybe if they kill all..... hmm

[Bêthberry]

it is the fear caused by the Nazgul that is their chief weapon, so the chief technique Tolkien uses to engage the reader in this incident (as throughout Book I) is tension rather than action. The key to the scene is not the physical attack that comes in the very last paragraph; it is the slow approach of the Nazgul, the perception of them as a very powerful danger, the suspense that results from the certainty that there must eventually be a confrontation. Tolkien builds that suspense to the breaking point, only to ease off a little and save the real confrontation for the final chapter of Book I.

A good point to make, Aiwendil in our days of action-packed thrillers. It is the timing and pacing that allows so much of the fear to develope. I also think that the attack on Crickhollow achieves some of that impending fear, too. "Open, in the name of Mordor" suggests to me just how arrogant are the Riders in their presumption that others are under Mordor's command.

The point which I find aching in this chapter is how Buckland is apparently rallied to defend itself where the real defense is required far away.

One thing that did strike me this time was what the Nazgul did to the hobbits beds in the inn - the sheer frenzy of the attack is appalling. Its as if they lost control of themselves - yet in other parts of the book we get the sense of them as cold & calculating. Its as if they can only function on two 'levels', one where everything is organised, ritualised, structured - even their cruelty, & the other where they kind of explode in an animal frenzy.

Interesting how we have different takes on this action, davem. I don't read this as loss of control or madly frienzied attack, but in fact as leaving a deadly and specific warning. They are saying that they know they have been tricked and won't forget it. They must leave evidence such as this else they look impotent.

And of course, Aragorn's singing of the song of Luthien and Beren becomes significant to first readers only later. What here appears to be only an answer to Sam's request for more tales of the elves also on some level must satisfy Strider/Aragorn very personally as well.

[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.