Tolkien Tuesday: Re-Reading "The Lord of the Rings": "In the House of Tom Bombadil"
In which we get a much-needed rest at the Hotel Bombadil.
Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!
Welcome to Tolkien Tuesdays, where I talk about various things that I love about the lore and writings of Tolkien, whether in a chapter reading or a character study or an essay. I hope you enjoy reading these ruminations as much as I enjoy writing them and, if you have a moment, I’d love it if you’d subscribe to this newsletter. It’s free, but there are paid options, as well, if you’re of a mind to support a struggling writer. Either way, thank you for joining me!
Well, kids, we made it. We’re now in the lovely house of Tom Bombadil, where our weary hobbit travelers get a bit of a respite from the terrors of the Old Forest. Even though this humble abode is in the very shadow of the sinister Barrow-downs, the power of Bombadil is such that it keeps their darkness from his doorstep. Indeed, for the first time since Frodo and company left Bag End we get the feeling that they are truly in a safe place.
This isn’t to say that there isn’t still reason to be cautious, for though Tom Bombadil is undeniably a force of good–at least as far as the hobbits are concerned–there is still much about him that is a mystery. Among other things, we learn that he is not affected by the One Ring; he doesn’t even disappear. At this point, we don’t know why this should be the case, only that it is yet another thing about this mysterious stranger that seems to defy everything that we’ve learned so far about Middle-earth and its denizens.
It is, in fact, Bombadil’s utter strangeness that makes him such an enduringly fascinating character. To some extent this is deliberate, and Tolkien was quite explicit about his belief that there are certain things in every author’s work that should remain mysterious. Even so, there are some clues about Tom’s nature that provide food for thought. We learn that he is older by far than anything we’ve yet met in Middle-earth; he was there even before the Elves. Given this, it’s not surprising that he manages to have such power.
This doesn’t mean that he owns all of the lands around his home, for as Goldberry reminds the hobbits, this would be a very heavy burden for anyone. At the same time, she does take pains to assert that “Tom Bombadil is the Master. No one has ever caught old Tom walking in the forest, wading in the water, leaping on the hill-tops under light and shadow. He has no fear. Tom Bombadil is master.” As with so many other parts of this chapter, there is much going on, not all of which is truly explained. Goldberry seems to think that this explanation is more than enough, and in its own way it is. One can see, though, why Frodo might find this less than satisfactory, since it’s still not exactly clear how one can be a master (capitalized or not) without actually owning the things over which one has dominion. As so often with Tom Bombadil, he follows his own rules.
Even more unsettling are his revelations about the nature of trees. Though by this point we already know that the Old Forest can be quite menacing, it’s only now that we learn about the Great Willow and his black heart, as well as the dark and sinister nature of trees in general. Lest we think that Tolkien is condemning trees, it’s revealing, I think, that he takes pains to point out the extent to which the hobbits are forced to reckon with the idea that they are the intruders into this realm. It’s a potent realization for them, I think, and it’s one of those moments when they really have to reckon with the fact that they are but tiny parts of a much wider world. And, of course, the trees do have a point. Humans are notoriously destructive when it comes to the natural world, and they do quite a lot of hacking and burning.
For me, though, one of the most haunting passages in the entire chapter is the moment when Tom relates to the hobbits the history of the Men who lived in the North. This is one of the first times since the Prologue that we get some insight into what these lands looked like in a previous period and, though related in an abstract and rather distant way, there is still something tragic and beautiful about these tales. They are yet another reminder of how often the efforts of Men have been brought low, and how even death can’t stop them from falling victim to the dark shadow of Mordor.
Even though this chapter has long proven a bit divisive in the Tolkien fandom–some love Tom and others hate him, some enjoy the singing and others skip over it–the truth is that this is a marvelously rich and textured chapter, not just in terms of how Tom’s abode is described (though who wouldn’t check in for a stay at the Hotel Bombadil?) but also in terms of its philosophy. In one of the most meaningful exchanges in the chapter, Tom and Frodo discuss whether it was “chance” that brought Bombadil hopping along at just the right time. It’s one of those moments where it becomes clear, yet again, that there is a sort of providence at work in Tolkien’s work. If not for this gentle nudge by this nameless force, Frodo and his friends might very well have been trapped in the valley of the Withywindle for who knows how long, their bones slowly sinking into the marshy ground, never to be seen again. How fortunate for them, and for Middle-earth, that Tom was nearby getting his lovely flowers for Goldberry.
Over the years I’ve grown to love this chapter more and more. It’s a little sojourn in the midst of a growing darkness and danger. More than that, it’s just a pleasure to spend time with Tom and Goldberry, each of whom brings out something unique in the other. To sit there with Frodo and his friends and watch them as they set the table is to watch poetry itself in motion. Moreover, there is also something calming and lyrical about the very way that Tom speaks, even regular conversation seeming to fall into his familiar sing-song intonation. By the time the chapter is done, it’s hard not to feel a pang as we realize that Frodo, and we readers, must now journey once more into the outer world.