LotR -- Book 3 - Chapter 04 - Treebeard

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Aside from Bêthberry's excellent contribution and drigel's comment, this chapter discussion has lain dormant for the past week. I was hoping our resident poetry experts would jump at the chance to discuss Treebeard's poems, but apparently they're all still hibernating. Since I don't want the poems to go unmentioned, I will at least briefly touch upon them in hopes that my post might spark interest and encourage some last-minute posting before the next chapter thread goes up.

All of the poems are Entish ones, though they are given in 'Westron'. The first one is the 'old list', beginning "Learn now the lore of Living Creatures". It is alliterative verse and only a portion of the whole work is quoted. From the fragment we have, it is difficult to deduct if there is any particular logic to the order in which the animals are named. The Free Peoples seem to be listed in order of the age of each race, which would place Ents between Dwarves and Humans. Though hobbit poetry is normally written in rhyme, the line Pippin adds for Hobbits is in the mode of the rest of the poem.

There are two lines given in Elvish when Treebeard speaks of Lothlórien:

Laurelindórinan lindelorendor malinornélion ornemalin,
Taurelilómëa-tumbalemorna Tumbaletaurëa Lómëanor.

The first word I can recognize, the longer name for Lothlórien, but perhaps someone has a translation of the whole text. I cannot tell if it is meant to be part of a poem or just prose.

Next comes "In the willow-meads of Tasarinan"; I have heard this sung to the tune by Donald Swann, a very nice version in my opinion. I'm not sure I can identify the type of poetry - it does not rhyme, but it's not in the alliterative mode either. It is wonderfully descriptive and evocative, following the seasons in the various woods, most of which have disappeared under the water at this time.

"When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf" is written in a simple rhyme scheme, with some repetition of whole or partial phrases. It also follows the seasons from spring to winter, and the stanzas alternate speakers, with Ents and Entwives given their varying views of each. Only the last two lines are spoken by both. It is also very descriptive and shows by the viewpoints of the genders how different they are. So much could be said about it, but I lack the time to go into detail. The most interesting thing to me is the fact that the only season they find a common ground is the winter, or a joined future in the West.

Quickbeam is the speaker of the next poem, “O Orofarnë”. It mourns the passing of trees that were his friends and is written in rhyme. The contrast between the appearance of the trees while alive to the way they looked after being destroyed is made almost visible.

The last poem is a marching song, beginning with “We come, we come with roll of drum” and continuing with “To Isengard!” It is very strongly rhythmic and repetitive; I have heard the recording of Tolkien reading this and increasing the speed – very dramatic! The sound of the words is very important in this poem – especially the word “doom” emphasizes the spirit of the marching Ents. I find it almost impossible to read the poem without getting on my feet and moving!

I’d be more than delighted to hear your comments on the poems and their significance to you!

[davem]

Originally Posted by Esty

]From the fragment we have, it is difficult to deduct if there is any particular logic to the order in which the animals are named.

This is a question which has intrigued me for a long time in light of the tradition of 'The Oldest Animals'. I'll give an excerpt from the Mabinogion story of Kilhwch & Olwen (don't worry Esty, it's from Lady Guest's translation & is long out of copyright!)

They went forward until they came to the Ousel of Cilgwri. And Gwrhyr adjured her for the sake of Heaven, saying, "Tell me if thou knowest aught of Mabon the son of Modron, who was taken when three nights old from between his mother and the wall." And the Ousel answered, "When I first came here, there was a smith's anvil in this place, and I was then a young bird; and from that time no work has been done upon it, save the pecking of my beak every evening, and now there is not so much as the size of a nut remaining thereof; yet the vengeance of Heaven be upon me, if during all that time I have ever heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless I will do that which is right, and that which it is fitting that I should do for an embassy from Arthur. There is a race of animals who were formed before me, and I will be your guide to them."

So they proceeded to the place where was the Stag of Redynfre. "Stag of Redynfre, behold we are come to thee, an embassy from Arthur, for we have not heard of any animal older than thou. Say, knowest thou aught of Mabon the son of Modron, who was taken from his mother when three nights old?" The Stag said, "When I first came hither, there was a plain all around me, without any trees save one oak sapling, which grew up to be an oak with an hundred branches. And that oak has since perished, so that now nothing remains of it but the withered stump; and from that day to this I have been here, yet have I never heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, being an embassy from Arthur, I will be your guide to the place where there is an animal which was formed before I was."

So they proceeded to the place where was the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd. "Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd, here is an embassy from Arthur; knowest thou aught of Mabon the son of Modron, who was taken after three nights from his mother?" "If I knew I would tell you. When first I came hither, the wide valley you see was a wooded glen. And a race of men came and rooted it up. And there grew there a second wood; and this wood is the third. My wings, are they not withered stumps? Yet all this time, even until to-day, I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire. Nevertheless, I will be the guide of Arthur's embassy until you come to the place where is the oldest animal in this world, and the one that has travelled most, the Eagle of Gwern Abwy."

Gwrhyr said, "Eagle of Gwern Abwy, we have come to thee an embassy from Arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught of Mabon the son of Modron, who was taken from his mother when he was three nights old." The Eagle said, "I have been here for a great space of time, and when I first came hither there was a rock here, from the top of which I pecked at the stars every evening; and now it is not so much as a span high. From that day to this I have been here, and I have never heard of the man for whom you inquire, except once when I went in search of food as far as Llyn Llyw. And when I came there, I struck my talons into a salmon, thinking he would serve me as food for a long time. But he drew me into the deep, and I was scarcely able to escape from him. After that I went with my whole kindred to attack him, and to try to destroy him, but he sent messengers, and made peace with me; and came and besought me to take fifty fish spears out of his back. Unless he know something of him whom you seek, I cannot tell who may. However, I will guide you to the place where he is.

So they went thither; and the Eagle said, "Salmon of Llyn Llyw, I have come to thee with an embassy from Arthur, to ask thee if thou knowest aught concerning Mabon the son of Modron, who was taken away at three nights old from his mother." "As much as I know I will tell thee. With every tide I go along the river upwards, until I come near to the walls of Gloucester, and there have I found such wrong as I never found elsewhere; and to the end that ye may give credence thereto, let one of you go thither upon each of my two shoulders." So Cai and Gwrhyr Gwalstawd Ieithoedd went upon the two shoulders of the salmon, and they proceeded until they came unto the wall of the prison, and they heard a great wailing and lamenting from the dungeon. Said Gwrhyr, "Who is it that laments in this house of stone?" "Alas, there is reason enough for whoever is here to lament. It is Mabon the son of Modron who is here imprisoned; and no imprisonment was ever so grievous as mine, neither that of Lludd Llaw Ereint, nor that of Greid the son of Eri." "Hast thou hope of being released for gold or for silver, or for any gifts of wealth, or through battle and fighting?" "By fighting will whatever I may gain be obtained."

So we have a tradition of moving back through time to the eldest of all natural creatures. I don't know whether Tolkien was using the creatures mentioned in Treebeard's song in the same way - maybe it was just a nod to the old tale, but who can say...

(The whole story can be found here)

[Encaitare]

There are two lines given in Elvish when Treebeard speaks of Lothlórien:

The first word I can recognize, the longer name for Lothlórien, but perhaps someone has a translation of the whole text. I cannot tell if it is meant to be part of a poem or just prose.

I quote Ardalambion; some information here is taken from Appendix F under "Ents":

In a few cases, Treebeard also used Quenya elements and strung them together as he would do in his own language, like laurelindórenan lindelorendor malinornélion ornemalin. In Letters:308, Tolkien explains that "the elements are laure, gold, not the metal but the colour, what we should call golden light; ndor, nor, land, country; lin, lind-, a musical sound; malina, yellow; orne, tree; lor, dream; nan, nand-, valley. So that roughly he means: 'The valley where the trees in a golden light sing musically, a land of music and dreams; there are yellow trees there, it is a tree-yellow land.' " Another example of the same is Taurelilómëa-tumbalemorna Tumbaletaurëa Lómeanor, that Tolkien renders "Forestmanyshadowed-deepvalleyblack Deepvalleyforested Gloomyland". By this Treebeard meant, "more or less", there is a black shadow in the deep dales of the forest (Appendix F).

The first line is in the context that Treebeard is talking about Lothlorien, describing its beauty. Then he states that "Neither this country, nor anything else outside the Golden Wood, is what it was when Celeborn was young." He then recites the second line, which I suppose is in reference to his own land of Fangorn and how it has become dark and gloomy.

[Estelyn Telcontar]

Thanks for that information, Encaitare!

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Coming in very late, I know, and I probably wouldn’t bother but I want to be sure to post to each chapter thread! (Is there a prize Esty for those of us who do so?)

The two elements of this chapter that I have always found the most interesting have already come in for some really excellent discussion here: the tale of the “split” between the Ents and the Entwives and the nature of Ent language. In reading through what’s here, I’m beginning to get a weird idea that we can actually relate these together.

The Entwives have a “possessive” view of nature insofar as they want to order it; to take what’s wild and untamed and to make it agricultural. This is what truly distinguishes them from the Ents and their more ‘accepting’ view of nature. They just like it without wanting to control it. But I’m not so sure I buy this.

Sure, the Ents are happy to let trees be trees, but they are an awful lot like the Entwives in their approach to language. As davem has already pointed out, for the Ents, the ‘ideal’ word is one that tells the complete story of a thing. For them, naming (Bob) and identifying (a man) are one and the same, whereas in our more ‘simple’ language they are different (for us Bob and ‘a man’ can refer to the same person; for Ents, presumably, there would only be one word-name for Bob that would render the general noun ‘man’ irrelevant (or at least hasty).

The Ents want to tame language in the same way that the Entwives want to tame nature. Or, rather (and rather more problematically) the Ents want to tame/contain reality with language. The list of the speaking peoples is a great example of this. All the conscious beings must have a place in their poem: poetry being, of course, the most wrought (i.e. worked upon) and even artificial form of language. When confronted with the treachery of Saruman and the hobbits, they spend their first night debating how to include hobbits in their list. They are as obsessive with their desire to control and tame life as are the Entwives, its just that their methods differ. While the Entwives are content to grow gardens, the Ents are rather doomed to try and capture all of reality in a language that will just get longer and longer as it tries to come up with words that capture the entirety of a thing.

They are in this respect a bit like the Elves, aren’t they? The Elves want/need to capture the present and to keep it static and unchanging forever. The Ents want/need to capture reality in a single word that can be the Final Word: that call tell the whole story – but of course for this to happen the story would have to stop. As long as time continues and new things happen to that hill, the name/word of it will change and grow as well. Treebeard says as much about his name: that it is always growing.

[The Saucepan Man]

Originally Posted by Fordim Hedgethistle

Treebeard says as much about his name: that it is always growing.

But isn't that a source of pleasure for him? In contrast to Elves, he takes pleasure in the natural process of change which promotes the continued growth and vibrancy of his language. It is only "unnatural" change, such as that wrought by Saruman on the forest, which disturbs and angers him.

[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Originally Posted by The Saucepan Man

But isn't that a source of pleasure for him? In contrast to Elves, he takes pleasure in the natural process of change which promotes the continued growth and vibrancy of his language. It is only "unnatural" change, such as that wrought by Saruman on the forest, which disturbs and angers him.

Good point. . .OK. . .how about this?

Seems to me that for Elves and Ents change is something that presents a problem to their desires. Treebeard may enjoy the process of change as it gives him a chance to make his words longer and longer, but this traps him in a process that can only end with the ending of time. Just as the Elves become locked in their forests and dreams, unable or unwilling to go beyond them except to pass into the West for good, so too is Treebeard locked in his words. . .?

For Entwives and hobbits, change is something that is cyclical and seasonal. There is no impossible 'endpoint' beyond or at the edge of time when their job will be complete for fulfilled: for them, the present of flux and change is the 'endpoint' and fulfillment they desire and need. Crops come and are harvested; hobbits grow and die and take their place in their family trees.

Seems that each of these modes (Elves/Ents & Hobbits/Entwives) is a different approach to time. The Elves and Ents (a 'masculine' approach?) are directed toward immortality: that is, living one's life in a purely forward looking, linear way within the confines of time, until it ends. The Hobbits and Entwives, however, seem directed toward eternity: that is, living one's life in cyclical pattern within time that through its endless and constant repetition will transcend time.

Like I said -- just trying to get in my post to this chapter thread. You solicitors (or is it barrister?) are all the same: won't let anyone get away with anything.

[mark12_30]

I have much catching up to do. The following notes were written before reading the thread; having now read the thread, several (davem and boromir in particular) hunted some of the same things I did. Having to choose between correlating all my comments to all those who posted on similar topics or ideas on this thread, or, moving on to the next chapter-- I hope you all do not think me rude in moving on. The thread has been quite enjoyable, yet I have many miles to go...

The casual introduction of Treebeard is delightful:

High up, almost level with the tops of forest-trees, there was a shelf under a cliff. Nothing grew there but a few grasses and weeds at its edge, and one old stump of a tree with only two bent branches left: it looked almost like the figure of some gnarled old man, standing there, blinking in the morning-light.

How Gnarled and how Old, they are about to discover!

If the stair had been made it was for bigger feet and longer legs than theirs. .... They came at length to the edge of the shelf almost at the feet of the old stump; then they sprang up and turned round with their backs to the hill, breathing deep, and looking out eastward.

Which means they also have their backs to "the old stump". This is delightful! A moment later the Old Stump speaks and "A large knob-knuckled hand was laid on each of their shoulders". Doesn't it make your shoulder tingle?

For I am not going to tell you my name... For one thing it would take a long while: my name is growing all the time, and I’ve lived a very long, long time; so my name is like a story. Real names tell you the story of the things they belong to...

Deep. It made me wonder what story each of us has, and what kind of a name we would have. Strider's long list of names is like chapter headings... what kind of autobiographical chapter headings would each of our lives produce? I may tackle this for my own satisfaction... but it is even more satisfying to think that Eru could write each of those books.

you know, the thing we are on, where I stand and look out on fine mornings, and think about the Sun, and the grass beyond the wood, and the horses, and the clouds, and the unfolding of the world. What is going on? What is Gandalf up to?

And now we know what was on the mind of that Gnarled Old Stump! Magnificent storytelling.

...Let us leave this – did you say what you call it?’
‘Hill?’ suggested Pippin. ‘Shelf? Step?’ suggested Merry.
Treebeard repeated the words thoughtfully. ‘Hill. Yes, that was it. But it is a hasty word for a thing that has stood here ever since this part of the world was shaped. Never mind. Let us leave it, and go.’

Makes me look at hills, and all the bones of the earth, in a whole new way.

Good and evil trees and their roots:

When that happens to a tree, you find that some have bad hearts. Nothing to do with their wood: I do not mean that. Why, I knew some good old willows down the Entwash, gone long ago, alas! They were quite hollow, indeed they were falling all to pieces, but as quiet and sweet-spoken as a young leaf. And then there are some trees in the valleys under the mountains, sound as a bell, and bad right through. That sort of thing seems to spread. There used to be some very dangerous parts in this country. There are still some very black patches.’
‘Like the Old Forest away to the north, do you mean?’ asked Merry.
‘Aye, aye. something like, but much worse. I do not doubt there is some shadow of the Great Darkness lying there still away north; and bad memories are handed down. But there are hollow dales in this land where the Darkness has never been lifted, and the trees are older than I am."

Odd-- isn't Treebeard extremely old, sometimes called the Eldest? Eldest of the ents, maybe? Interesting.
And how dark those dales must be! "Hollow" dales says something about the nature of evil; hollowness in life, purpose, etc. And yet it is not physically the trees that are hollow-- but the dells they are rooted in. Contrast this with the "Sweet old willows down the Entwash" rooted near the nutritious and healthy river-- Psalm 1, anyone?

And the smell of the air! I used to spend a week just breathing.’

Speaks for itself...

dusk was twined about the boles of the trees. ...Down the hillside the young Entwash, leaping from its springs high above, ran noisily from step to step to meet them.

Gorgeous writing.


WELLINGHALL

I find the whole Wellinghall passage fascinating because of the connection between Treebeard, water, ent-draughts, stone pots and bowls and vessels, and light. Here are a few exerpts:

... two great vessels and stood them on the table. They seemed to be filled with water; but he held his hands over them, and immediately they began to glow, one with a golden and the other with a rich green light; and the blending of the two lights lit the bay; as if the sun of summer was shining through a roof of young leaves. Looking back, the hobbits saw that the trees in the court had also begun to glow, faintly at first, but steadily quickening, until every leaf was edged with light: some green, some gold, some red as copper; while the tree-trunks looked like pillars moulded out of luminous stone.

Does this connect with the two trees, or at least with the Golden tree? There's no white tree reference (light being golden and green, not silver) but is Treebeard supplying some sort of link to the Golden tree, which was the predecessor of the sun? Is this an illustration connecting sunlight (first vessel) and the green light found, for instance, in a newly-opened beech glade in spring? But then how do the rest of the luminous trees connect? Regardless, it's a beautiful, mysterious, and fascinating passage.

He went to the back of the bay, and then they saw that several tall stone jars stood there, with heavy lids. He removed one of the lids, and dipped in a great ladle, and with it filled three bowls, one very large bowl, and two smaller ones. ...The drink was like water, indeed very like the taste of the draughts they had drunk from the Entwash near, the borders of the forest, and yet there was some scent or savour in it which they could not describe: it was faint, but it reminded them of the smell of a distant wood borne from afar by a cool breeze at night. The effect of the draught began at the toes, and rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it coursed upwards, right to the tips of the hair.

John ch. 2 on Stone and water and wine -- and power:
"Now there were set there six waterpots of stone, according to the manner of purification of the Jews, containing twenty or thirty gallons apiece. Jesus said to them, “Fill the waterpots with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. And He said to them, “Draw some out now, and take it to the master of the feast.” And they took it. When the master of the feast had tasted the water that was made wine, and did not know where it came from (but the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom. And he said to him, “Every man at the beginning sets out the good wine, and when the guests have well drunk, then the inferior. You have kept the good wine until now!”


Light when Treebeard is roused:

And there are wastes of stump and bramble where once there were singing groves. I have been idle. I have let things slip. It must stop!’
Treebeard raised himself from his bed with a jerk, stood up, and thumped his hand on the table. The vessels of light trembled and sent up two jets of flame. There was a flicker like green fire in his eyes

Light when Treebeard calms himself:

He strode to the archway and stood for some time under the falling rain of the spring. Then he laughed and shook himself, and wherever the drops of water fell glittering from him to the ground they glinted like red and green sparks.

A few, varied quotes that strike me as "Wisdom":
On Sarumen:

his face... became like windows in a stone wall: windows with shutters inside.

On happiness:

....the Entwives. We believe that we may meet again in a time to come, and perhaps we shall find somewhere a land where we can live together and both be content. But it is foreboded that that will only be when we have both lost all that we now have.

Marching to War:

and Pippin could see a sad look in his eyes, sad but not unhappy.

[drigel]

Does this connect with the two trees, or at least with the Golden tree? There's no white tree reference (light being golden and green, not silver) but is Treebeard supplying some sort of link to the Golden tree, which was the predecessor of the sun? Is this an illustration connecting sunlight (first vessel) and the green light found, for instance, in a newly-opened beech glade in spring? But then how do the rest of the luminous trees connect? Regardless, it's a beautiful, mysterious, and fascinating passage.

Nice! Its a wonderfully subtle reference to Yavanna, is it not? The ents being the counterpoint to Aules dwarves, if Im not mistaken.