Tolkien Tuesday: Re-Reading "The Lord of the Rings: "A Journey in the Dark"
As the Fellowship braves the dark caverns of Moria, they have to contend with the overwhelming weight of history itself.
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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 been defeated by Caradhras, the Fellowship finally decide that nothing can be done but to proceed to the ancient and abandoned kingdom of Moria, with all of the dangers and menace this entails. Before they get there, of course, they have to contend with all sorts of other nasty things, including a group of Wargs and a many-tentacled thing lurking in the waters outside of Moria itself. Finally they manage to get inside, but even more sadness and sorrow wait for them in the caverns of the ancient kingdom.
I don’t know about anyone else, but I always feel a thrill of fear whenever Tolkien brings the Wargs into the picture. Even though they seem to be just particularly vicious and aggressive (and intelligent) wolves, there’s something so deeply, viscerally terrifying about the name “Warg” that it’s hard not to shudder. As the Fellowship finds itself surrounded by these fearsome monsters, it gives us all cause to be grateful once again that they have Gandalf in their midst, otherwise it’s very unlikely that they would have managed to survive. As it is, their presence demonstrates that the world is growing ever more perilous as Sauron continues to spread his shadow and to bring more and more land under his dominion.
One can’t help but feel sorry for the poor pony Bill, left to find his way in the wilderness while the others go into the depths of the earth. He might be a relatively minor character all things considered, but the bond that has emerged between him and Sam is one of the most touching. Even Gandalf’s reassurance that Bill will find his way back to safety isn’t all that reassuring. (Of course, it turns out that he does indeed survive in the wild and eventually makes his way back to Bree, where he is reunited with Sam. Lord bless Tolkien for giving this little equine his own happy ending).
Which brings us, of course, to the fearsome creature later revealed to be the Watcher in the Water. Like Caradhras, this is a being that seems to exist according to its own rules (though, as the novel points out, it’s probably no accident that it goes for Frodo first). What makes the Watcher so compelling and so terrifying, however, is the fact that most of its body remains out of view of the Fellowship. What they do see is terrifying enough, of course, for who wouldn’t be scared out of their wits by a gaggle of snake-like tentacles coming out of a sinister and slimy lake? For what it’s worth, I think this is one of those moments that works better in the books than it does in Peter Jackson’s adaptation, precisely because Tolkien wisely decided to keep much of the creature out of view, recognizing that it is the unseen which is often the greatest source of terror.
As so often in Fellowship, history also continues to linger in the background, and the taut conversation between Legolas and Gimli regarding who was to blame for the ill-will that grew between Elves and Dwarves is yet another reminder of the many divisions that exist among the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. The past weighs heavily on the present, and this is precisely why the friendship which slowly emerges between these two bears such weight. Their bond is a reminder that old enmities need not persist if the two parties learn to reach across their differences (it’s a lesson that only continues to feel more timely with each passing decade).
Of course, history is everywhere around the Fellowship once they actually enter Moria itself. Everything about the subsequent passages–from the discussion of mithril to the destruction of the holly trees and, of course, the vast halls surrounding them–allow us as readers to understand the antiquity of this ancient realm of the Dwarves. Yet like so many other places in Middle-earth it is now but a shadow of its former self, reduced to empty halls and drowned passages thanks to the depredations of the Orcs and the passage of time. One gets the sense that, even if the Dwarves were able to recapture their old domains, they would never again be able to achieve the heights they were able to attain in the past. Some things, like the holly trees, are gone beyond recall, no matter how much we might wish it were otherwise.
And let’s talk about the moment when Pippin throws a stone down a well, eliciting a set of tapping sounds. At this point it’s unclear just what this portends but, as the subsequent chapter will reveal, the impetuous Took has awoken things that would have been better left asleep. While it might be pushing things a bit to say that in some ways Pippin is responsible for Gandalf’s fall to the Balrog–it’s entirely possible that the malevolent being would have come upon them anyway–it does seem to me that Tolkien intends this whole scene to be another reminder of the power of unintended consequences.
The chapter’s ending, of course, is arguably the most devastating part of it, as it is finally revealed that Balin–and, as we find out, the rest of those who came with him–perished before they could truly reclaim their ancestral homeland. This moment lands like a punch in the gut, particularly since many readers are already familiar with Balin thanks to The Hobbit. The fact that he was one of those who had an especially close relationship with Bilbo makes his death all the more wrenching. Along with Gimli, one feels like throwing one’s hood over one’s face and abandoning oneself to grief.
I’ve always found this to be a powerful and evocative chapter, as we wander with the Fellowship into the darkness of the earth, where there might well be “older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of the world,” as Gandalf so pungently puts it. As will become clear in the following chapter, Gandalf will soon have more cause to know this than anyone else.