Tolkien Tuesday: Re-Reading "The Lord of the Rings: The Ring Goes South"
As the Fellowship sets out on their quest, they soon find that there are powers other than Sauron who pose a danger to their efforts to make it to Mordor.
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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!
Having finally settled on a course of action–destroying the One Ring–those who have gathered in Rivendell now have to decide not only who will comprise the Fellowship but also how to go about making their way to Mordor. Ultimately the company includes Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Gimli, and Boromir, and they first attempt to cross the great mountain Caradhras, before being forced to take a darker and more terrifying road: Moria.
Like so many of the other leavetaking chapters of Fellowship, this one is filled with both joy and sorrow. Even though Rivendell is remarkably restorative to Frodo and his companions, they also can’t help but be aware of the fact that they will soon have to leave its sheltered confines to journey south. What is even more remarkable about this chapter is how much it reveals about the lack of knowledge of even those such as Elrond. Even though he is one of the most sagacious beings left in Middle-earth, even his vision has been obscured by the rise of Sauron, which means he can give Frodo only the barest bits of advice to help him on his quest. Frodo is ultimately flying blind, and this makes his bravery in taking on the quest in the first place all the more remarkable and laudatory.
Just as laudable, however, is the insistence of both Merry and Pippin to join the Fellowship, even though Elrond dearly wants to send at least one of them back to the Shire. Of course, it’s far from clear at this point just what impact Pippin’s and Merry’s actions will have on the greater events of the War of the Ring, but in hindsight, it’s hard to avoid the conclusion that Saruman’s infiltration of the hobbits’ homeland might well have been avoided had one of them turned back at that point. Then again, it’s entirely possible that, without their interference, the Ents might never have marched on Isengard, and it’s certain that the Witch-king of Angmar might never have met his doom had Merry not sliced his leg, rendering her vulnerable to Éowyn’s blow. As so often in The Lord of the Rings, the characters must do the best they can with the little knowledge that they have, and it’s up to the reader to think and reflect on how things might have turned out very differently.
Sam, of course, is the most practical of everyone involved in the quest to destroy the Ring. In addition to his little comment about wondering where those in the great stories end up living, he also shows his usual concern for the nuts and bolts of their journey, and there’s something charming and heartwarming about his consternation about not having any rope. Of all the members of the Fellowship, of course it would be Sam who would be worried about rope, when everyone else is concerned about destroying the greatest evil still in Middle-earth. It’s precisely this concern with the quotidian and the everyday that makes Sam such an easy character to love and why it is that he continues to be the audience’s surrogate.
As so often in Fellowship, geography plays a key role, not just in the challenges the characters face but also in giving us a sense of the deep time of Middle-earth. By this point, the land through which they move has long forgotten the Elves who once dwelt there. As Legolas mournfully remarks: “the trees and the grass do not now remember them. Only I hear the stones lament them: deep they delved us, fair they wrought us, high they builded us, but they are gone. They are gone. They sought the Havens long ago.” It’s a remarkably sad moment, filled with the melancholy that is such a signature part of Tolkien’s Elves, and it actually pairs quite well with Bilbo’s song before they leave Rivendell, which is also about the passing of a life and the things an old person thinks about as they begin to think about death and all that has come before.
And then there is the looming threat of Caradhras. Unlike in Jackson’s film, where Saruman is figured as the force that threatens to bring down the entire mountain upon the heads of the Fellowship, here it is the spirit of the mountain itself that sets its face against them. In some ways, this is an even more terrifying proposition, as it’s impossible to argue with a mountain. Even Gandalf, as powerful as he is, finds himself stymied, and it’s really something of a miracle that they manage to survive at all. Like Tom Bombadil, who cares for little else other than the little patch of land that he has managed to make his own, Caradhras cares nothing for Rings or powers or wars, nor does it have much affection for anything that goes on two legs. Thus, while the mountain is definitely an antagonist, it is not evil per se, and I personally find this to be one of the most fascinating things about Tolkien’s world.
Overall, I always quite enjoy this chapter. It’s one of those moments that marks yet another transition, as the hobbits find themselves increasingly out of their reckoning (as Sam would say), having to contend with just how vast and unfriendly the world is, even though they are not really that far from the Shire (at least in direct miles). This is a world in which even a mountain can become a foe, and where there are few people dwelling. The vastness of the space is, indeed, one of the most evocative parts of this chapter, and it’s something that I think Jackson managed to capture quite well in his film adaptation. Along with the hobbits themselves, we can’t help but be a little overwhelmed at the simple vastness of the sky and the landscape, even as we also can’t escape the necessity that drives the Fellowship ever onward. As so often in Tolkien, landscape and narrative work in tandem to cast a peculiar spell.
That’s all for this week. Stay tuned as we begin our journey into the long dark of Moria.