LotR -- Book 1 - Chapter 06 – The Old Forest

[mark12_30]

From my jottings and scribblings:

Early in the chapter, Frodo sings at the trees, but his will fails; His voice starts out strong, then fades, not because he is finished, but because the trees loom over him. This is a contrast to his Bombadil-summoning in the Barrow; there, his voice starts out weak, and ends up ringing out. 'Something' has changed by then.

Northward, and to the left of the path, the lad seemed to be drier and more open, climbing up to slopes where the trees were thinner, and pines and firs replaced the oaks and ashes and other strange and nameless trees of the denser wood.

"Nameless" generally is not a compliment in Tolkien's style. Good things get named, at least by the elves! "Nameless trees" implies to me that they are not nice trees.

The contrast between Sam and Frodo is interesting; Frodo, dreamy and almost 'drownded', must be pulled out of the Withywindle and the Willow-Roots by Sam (later, Frodo pulls Sam out of the Anduin.) Then as they consider Merry & Piipin's plight, Frodo is cautious and hesitant; Sam is 'fierce'. It is Sam who sets the fire, and threatens to gnaw on the tree. While Sam is stamping out the fire, Frodo is running crying 'help, help' and feeling 'desperate: lost and witless'. This is a major contrast to his later temptation and courage in the Barrow.

Goldberry's voice falls silver-- like Nimrodel-- "Her voice as falling silver fell into the shining pool." To me, this is one of the most moving parts of this chapter:

Then another clear voice, as young and as ancient as Spring, like the song of a glad water flowing down into the night from a bright morning in the hills, came falling like silver to meet them:

Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!

And with that song the Hobbits stood upon the threshold, and a golden light was all about them.

To me the final sentence is evocative because of the song before it and the voice that sang them into the light. What kind of voice must that be! And who writes such songs! It evokes another of my favorite lines, from further forward in the book, Many Meetings: "They spoke... ... of the fair things they had seen in the world together: of Elves, of the stars, of trees, and the gentle fall of the bright year in the woods."

[Estelyn Telcontar]

One of the most interesting things about this chapter is the fact that for once in Tolkien's writing, trees are used as enemies with a negative image. We have the old story of the attacking trees that were burned (now that would certainly be politically incorrect today, wouldn't it?!), the devious malice of the trees in misleading them, and Old Man Willow, who would have killed the Hobbits if left to his own devices. For someone like Tolkien, who had a great love for trees, this is a departure, is it not?

At first, Merry is the strongest of the Hobbits, encouraging the others, finding the way, and showing little fear. However, Sam is the one who rescues them, the only one who doesn't fall asleep from OMW's singing. I wonder why?

I can't help but wonder about the trees' ability to understand human language. It's not just the feeling that becomes oppressing, but when Frodo sings about the failing trees and woods, Merry admonishes him that the trees do not like that. If we assume that the Old Forest trees are a kind of Huorn, and that Elves taught the Ents and trees to speak, I suppose it is possible - though why they should understand Common Speech rather than Entish or Elvish is not entirely clear to me.

During this chapter Tolkien is also skilfully building up the suspense that goes with the Barrow-downs, giving hints of its sinister reputation and making sure the readers know that it is an undesirable place to which the Hobbits do not want to go.

I love the sentence that tells us (without saying the name) that the Hobbits have come to the Withywindle:

...bordered with ancient willows, arched over with willows, blocked with fallen willows, and flecked with thousands of faded willow-leaves.

Very evocative!

Tolkien's descriptive narrative is excellent in this chapter, not only showing us what the Old Forest looks like, but also making us feel the emotions that the Hobbits felt in there.

This is the Hobbits' first dangerous adventure outside of the Shire (and the danger within the Shire was brought in from outside, in the persons of the Black Riders). It shows that the perils do not begin in far-away foreign countries, but right outside their own borders.

One more thing - it's interesting to compare the Fatty of this chapter with the one at the end of the book - not only will his appearance have changed, but his courage will have grown so much that he leads a rebellion against the invasion of the Shire!

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Originally Posted by Estelyn Telcontar

At the end of the chapter, an open door and light await them, with Goldberry’s welcoming song. I find the last sentence wonderfully evocative:

The last sentence is definitely wonderful, almost otherworldly. One would expect the hobbits in the next moment floating in the stellar space or something

Originally Posted by Estelyn Telcontar

One of the most interesting things about this chapter is the fact that for once in Tolkien's writing, trees are used as enemies with a negative image. We have the old story of the attacking trees that were burned (now that would certainly be politically incorrect today, wouldn't it?!), the devious malice of the trees in misleading them, and Old Man Willow, who would have killed the Hobbits if left to his own devices. For someone like Tolkien, who had a great love for trees, this is a departure, is it not?

Definitely. But I think it's this ambiguity Tolkien writes about always, even when he is mentioning the "magical realm", Faërie, he says that it's a world beautiful but dangerous. And if I make a little excourse into the future, Tom is going to tell the Hobbits later about the forest and explain some things about the trees' minds to them. And the Faërie comparision is quite appropriate here I think: the Hobbits, after what Tom tells them, feel like intruders in the place which is alien to them. But that's not, as I said, in the chapter itself, only in the next one (but I believe it still relativises seeing the trees as "evil" - the only "evil one" here who remains is the Old Man Willow).

At first, Merry is the strongest of the Hobbits, encouraging the others, finding the way, and showing little fear. However, Sam is the one who rescues them, the only one who doesn't fall asleep from OMW's singing. I wonder why?

First, Merry is definitely the leader here, at least until the time when the Old Man Willow comes (or, to be precise, when they come to him). But Sam is quite, well, practic still and "mundane" (first thing he does is to look for the ponies), so maybe there is some reason that due to his practical mind he was less vulnerable to such "unnatural" things? He does not even believe Frodo that the tree pushed him into the water. Just a thought, I don't know

I can't help but wonder about the trees' ability to understand human language. It's not just the feeling that becomes oppressing, but when Frodo sings about the failing trees and woods, Merry admonishes him that the trees do not like that. If we assume that the Old Forest trees are a kind of Huorn, and that Elves taught the Ents and trees to speak, I suppose it is possible - though why they should understand Common Speech rather than Entish or Elvish is not entirely clear to me.

I thought about it and now it seems to me that maybe the trees with their long life could, you know, listen to hobbits' language and learn it over the ages? They are their neighbours, after all; and Bombadil uses the language as well, speaking of it; and there were others earlier (some remnants of the Dúnedain from Arnor at one time were hiding in the Old Forest). And maybe, during all the ages, some more daring Hobbit who kept visiting the Old Forest may have talked to some trees, maybe not even realising what he's doing or that it has any actual effect, but the trees listened to him and learned to catch the meaning of some words.

This is the Hobbits' first dangerous adventure outside of the Shire (and the danger within the Shire was brought in from outside, in the persons of the Black Riders). It shows that the perils do not begin in far-away foreign countries, but right outside their own borders.

One thing about Old Man Willow - I find it insteresting that he is in fact the first "otherworldly" creature (apart from the Black Riders) the Hobbits encounter. And since The Hobbit, it's the first creature of this type; and also a new one, unseen before.

One more thing - it's interesting to compare the Fatty of this chapter with the one at the end of the book - not only will his appearance have changed, but his courage will have grown so much that he leads a rebellion against the invasion of the Shire!

Obviously. A reader always notices how the four hobbits' personalities have changed over the time of their adventure (Merry and Pippin being the strongest examples), but Fatty went through at least similar change.

[Rumil]

Evening All,

back again at the readthrough, so much to catch up on but you know my unreliability by now!

So again a chapter which has been very thoroughly discussed above, what to add?

I was impressed by the dream-turning-to-nightmare aspect of the Old Man Willow encounter.

It seemed to him that he could hardly hear the sound of his own shrill voice: it was blown away from him by the willow-wind and drowned in a clamour of leaves, as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt desperate: lost and witless.

This sems to me similar to a nightmare situation where one cannot perform ordinary actions. For example, being rooted to the spot when unspecified monsters are creeping up on you.

Another aspect was the singing of Tom's ''spells'', reminscent (in a small way) of the singing 'magic' in the Silmarillion.

Now for some interesting (?) small details.

First we have the ponies, showing how prepared Merry was for the journey, having likely splashed quite a bit of cash to purchase them on the expectation that Frodo would approve the plan on unmasking of the conspiracy.

Next dragonets! Old Man Willow's roots were described as like dragonets. Therefore the hobbits had a word for young dragons. I certainly can't remember any young dragons appearing in the legendarium, for example Morgoth kept Glaurung at home 'under wraps' until he was sufficiently old to be fit for battle (and then withdrew him again until his armour was hardened). So maybe this is hobbit inventiveness, or just possibly they had heard tales of the Dwarves or Eothoed encountering immature dragons around the Grey Mountains or Withered Heath, tantalising!

Frodo's hatchet- reminded me that the company had set out almost completely unarmed on their adventure, (something commented on in a later chapter). It would be a strange RPG where the characters had but one hatchet and presumably some general-purpose knives!

Tom mentions the 'black alder', perhaps another powerful Old Man Willow-like Huorn-ish adversary?

Yellow cream, honeycomb, white bread and butter: Reminds me of the spread at Beorn's house, therefore are Tom & Goldberry vegetarian? However this certainly implies agriculture, cream and butter mean cows, bread means ploughing, growing and harvesting wheat, Tom was a farmer, just like Maggot. The honey could concievably have been taken from wild bees, I bet Tom knew a few bee-calming ditties.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Welcome back, Rumil! You may try to catch up with us... the sooner you can make it, the better, but no trouble

Originally Posted by Rumil

Frodo's hatchet- reminded me that the company had set out almost completely unarmed on their adventure, (something commented on in a later chapter). It would be a strange RPG where the characters had but one hatchet and presumably some general-purpose knives!

Not that strange. Why? It's not the most common type of an RPG, but it can be done... And me and my players had such a RPG not that long ago... and whenever you'd be doing an RPG from Middle-Earth involving Hobbits, that's almost a necessity (you don't usually have a Hobbit running around with a sword).

Yellow cream, honeycomb, white bread and butter: Reminds me of the spread at Beorn's house, therefore are Tom & Goldberry vegetarian? However this certainly implies agriculture, cream and butter mean cows, bread means ploughing, growing and harvesting wheat, Tom was a farmer, just like Maggot. The honey could concievably have been taken from wild bees, I bet Tom knew a few bee-calming ditties.

Now the question is where did Tom, in this case, have his fields, or cows (I would imagine rather goats or something smaller in his case)... It will be strange for Tom to have any animal "held captive" in his house... the only I can think of was his pony, and still, we don't see anything of him until the encounter on the Downs. Bees are okay, but the other things... is it possible Tom would have "traded" with the hobbits from the Shire? (Farmer Maggot?) But the vegetarian diet sounds very probable.

[Rumil]

Hi Legate,

I should have remembered that the RPGs have become less stereotypically combat-oriented. My thoughts were of old-school D+D where everyone tooled up to the max with chainmail, shield and sword, selection of silver daggers, wolfsbane, oil flasks and the obligatory ten-foot pole and got full plate armour as soon as they could. Not that they weren't fun of course .

I noticed that Esty brought up the same vegetarian points in the next chapter. Anyway, the cows (kine?) could have been at least semi-wild. I wonder if it is possible to harvest sufficient grain from wild grasses? I'm thinking of Emmer-wheat here and the old theories about the beginnings of agriculture where food plants were casually harvested and encouraged until the point where formal fields made sense. Perhaps Tom did a little grain trading with Maggot, as grain can be stored, but fresh cream cannot!

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Originally Posted by Rumil

I should have remembered that the RPGs have become less stereotypically combat-oriented. My thoughts were of old-school D+D where everyone tooled up to the max with chainmail, shield and sword, selection of silver daggers, wolfsbane, oil flasks and the obligatory ten-foot pole and got full plate armour as soon as they could. Not that they weren't fun of course .

Well not that they don't exist anymore. We also started like that, only by long playing, the players become somewhat more, hmm, "educated" and aim for other things than just, as we say, "Expírieeens!!!" (which used to be a battle cry)

I noticed that Esty brought up the same vegetarian points in the next chapter. Anyway, the cows (kine?) could have been at least semi-wild. I wonder if it is possible to harvest sufficient grain from wild grasses? I'm thinking of Emmer-wheat here and the old theories about the beginnings of agriculture where food plants were casually harvested and encouraged until the point where formal fields made sense. Perhaps Tom did a little grain trading with Maggot, as grain can be stored, but fresh cream cannot!

Well, there's still the thing I said before about "holding animals captive". And I found there's actually a good point to it. Tom actually says, after calling up the ponies in the next chapter:

Originally Posted by Fog on the Barrow-Downs

My four-legged friend; though I seldom ride him, and he wanders often far, free upon the hillsides.

So, I think Tom can have let's say a cow, but I guess she wanders randomly around the hills (I can imagine that pretty well) and when Tom wants some milk, he calls her home (quite easily, I would imagine, as with the ponies; but even the image of old Tom in his boots running around the hills to find his cow is not inappropriate). By the way I am sure Tom is the one who milks her, not Goldberry. And speaking of cows, I am actually now thinking that maybe a sheep is more plausible. Just because the fact sheep are mentioned in the memories Tom "projects" to the Hobbits when speaking about Arnor of old (it looks like the Downs were a good pasture). And then, the image of half-wild shepherd Tom with sheep milk fits well to me (I am actually thinking of the, to me known, Moravian/Slovak bača, the simple shepherd).

[Boromir88]

I rather enjoy these chapters in the Old Forest. It provides depth and a sense of ancient history to Middle-earth. One of the things that elevates the Lord of the Rings above other novels (imo), is the glimpses of an ancient past. The matter of Sauron and the Ring is presented to the readers as "the big important event," but in the history of Middle-earth it's a blip on the timeline, and there's a much deeper history to this world.

I like the description and imagery of the war between the forest and the hobbits long ago:

'They do say the trees do actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them in. In fact long ago they attacked the Hedge: they came and planted themselves right by it, and leaned over it. But the hobbits came and cut down hundreds of trees, and made a great bonfire in the Forest, and burned all the ground in a long strip east of the Hedge. After that the trees gave up the attack, but they become very unfriendly. There is still a wide bare space not far inside where the bonfire was made.'

The imagery of trees encroaching closer to the Hedge, the hobbits border with their land and the forest's. The description of the trees "leaning over it," perceived as an attack on the Hedge. And then when hobbits come cutting and burning the trees giving up their attack. It sort of reminds me when there's a fence between two neighbor's property. One neighbor has trees planted in the yard, but then the branches start "leaning over" into the other neighbor's yards. And how arguments about cutting down trees, "your tree is invading my property" can spring up between neighbors. Although, from Merry's story, this was an attack long ago by the trees of the Old Forest and after much slashing and burning the trees cease but become filled with anger.

[Formendacil]

A couple minor points struck me on this reread, and refreshing myself on this thread there was one major one, which I shall get to last.

First, it amuses me to note that, reading "The Old Forest" this time, I noticed the fact that Merry must have taken the key with him, when a few years back, I missed that entirely and had to be corrected.

Second, I noticed that Sam was the one who most resisted Old Man Willow and I thought this was appropriate enough, given that he is a gardner, a tender of plants. This connection makes even more sense reading through the thread: there was a much earlier comparison of Tom to Adam in the Garden of Eden--i.e. an unfallen gardner of nature. Someone also pointed out Farmer Maggot as being somewhat Bombadil-like. So perhaps there's a definite appropriateness to Sam being the one to snap out of Old Man Willow's trance on his own.

Finally, the major point, regarding the whole point of the Bombadil trio of chapters, I was surprised to see very little written about how they function almost as a dream, given that this is a piece of analysis I am almost entirely certain I have read elsewhere. Granted, I think that might have been in the context of the parallel geography of the hobbits' journey at the END of the book, but it has a distinct appropriateness here. The quote:

Originally Posted by Homeward Bound

'Well here we are, just the four of us that started out together,' said Merry. 'We have left all the rest behind, one after another. It seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded.'
'Not to me,' said Frodo. 'To me it feels more like falling asleep again.'

This is immediately preceded by Gandalf leaving them to visit Bombadil, with the image of him riding off towards the Barrow-downs.

I'm not a fan of the plot device "It was all just a dream!", the most famous example of which is the movie adaptation of The Wizard of Oz, but it's useful as a way of understanding the point of the Bombadil chapters. In the rest of the book--even as soon as Bree--they are half-remembered at best. Saying that they are like a dream the reader had is an excellent way of describing their general irrelevance to the later plot.

And travelling through a dream is a lot like travelling into Faërie: time and space seem to have different rules than in the "real" world--and although all of The Lord of the Rings takes place in a world that equally purports to be real, there is still a different sense of reality in the Shire and in the adventures from Bree to Bree: when Frodo says that it's like falling asleep again, he is speaking as much or more for the reader as for himself. We've been taken on an adventure into a higher, more true reality than daily life which is the dream.

In other words, I think the Bombadil chapters are important for allowing the Shire and the rest of the great tale to coexist, without the Shire seeming trivially pointless or the greater tale impossibly remote. They're the fuzzy state between sleeping and waking that create the massive chasm of distance between dream and reality.

I actually think that omitting them is the only reason Jackson is able to make The Fellowship of the Ring into the best of his movies--because each of the six books of the LotR rises and falls on its own, and Book I without the Bombadil section is all introduction and climax. It functions within the wider LotR to transition us from the world of the Shire (in some respects the world of The Hobbit) into the world of the epic (again, in some respects, the world of the Silmarillion). That sense of building tension and rising stakes needs a chance to simmer, and without the Bombadil interlude, it goes fast: Black Riders, Merry & Pippin, Bree, Strider, Black Riders!

Again, I think that helped make the FotR the best Jackson movie, because it allows the FotR to have a single arc (with Rivendell replacing Bombadil as the stretching-middle). Part of the reason TTT and RotK don't work as well is because they attempt to make a single story out of two books (granted, they have to, but you'll never convince me that six movies wouldn't have been better, though I'll grant you that the placement of the destruction of the Ring in the early part of Book VI makes that final book an interesting one to stand alone--though, of course, as the final volume, it's kind of like Infinity War in the Marvel Cinematic Universe: a different sort of beast).

[Inziladun]

Originally Posted by Formendacil

First, it amuses me to note that, reading "The Old Forest" this time, I noticed the fact that Merry must have taken the key with him, when a few years back, I missed that entirely and had to be corrected.

Well, who's to say that was the only key? Seems rather slack of the Brandybucks to risk its loss. After all, all it would take is a drunken stroll into the Forest after dark, and you're sending to Hobbiton for a locksmith.

Originally Posted by Formendacil

Second, I noticed that Sam was the one who most resisted Old Man Willow and I thought this was appropriate enough, given that he is a gardner, a tender of plants. This connection makes even more sense reading through the thread: there was a much earlier comparison of Tom to Adam in the Garden of Eden--i.e. an unfallen gardner of nature. Someone also pointed out Farmer Maggot as being somewhat Bombadil-like. So perhaps there's a definite appropriateness to Sam being the one to snap out of Old Man Willow's trance on his own.

I never considered before why Sam was least affected by the Willow.
Besides being a gardener and "lover of trees", he was seemingly a bit less intelligent than the others, and also had at least heard of Huorns or their like from Cousin Hal. Hmm.

Originally Posted by Formendacil

In other words, I think the Bombadil chapters are important for allowing the Shire and the rest of the great tale to coexist, without the Shire seeming trivially pointless or the greater tale impossibly remote. They're the fuzzy state between sleeping and waking that create the massive chasm of distance between dream and reality.

Very interesting! So the Forest is rather a buffer between the innocent, Hobbit-like beginning, then going directly to the Downs, where things get really perilous.

Of course, the Hobbits had been shadowed by the Black Riders, but to a first-time reader, I think the Barrow-wight, seen (and heard) at a much closer distance, would be creepier.