Tolkien Tuesday: "Reading "The Lord of the Rings": The Muster of Rohan"
As the Rohirrim prepare to ride to the aid of Gondor, Merry finds that he is sure to be left behind by those who don't believe he has anything to contribute to the war effort.
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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!
Welcome to Tolkien Tuesdays here at Omnivorous, where I’m continuing to make my way through The Return of the King. In this week’s chapter, “The Muster of Rohan,” Théoden continues to gather together his forces in preparation for riding to the aid of beleaguered Gondor, while both Éowyn and Merry find themselves being slowly shunted to the side as the warriors believe, quite wrongly, that they have nothing to contribute to the war effort except to stay at home and tend to the hearth.
As with so many of the other chapters of The Return of the King, this one is very much about heroism and grave choices. By now we know just how stern and proud King Théoden is, and we get even more evidence of this when Éomer suggests that he should stay back with their people rather than riding again to battle. To this, the king responds, “Nay, my son, for so I will call you, speak not the soft words of Wormtongue in my old ears! [...] Long years in the space of days it seems since I rode west; but never will I lean on a staff again. If the war is lost, what good will be my hiding in the hills? And if it is won, what grief will it be, even if I fall, spending my last strength?” These are powerful words, to be sure, and they are a reminder of just how much the king has changed since we first met him back in The Two Towers. This is no longer the frail old man besieged by the blandishments of a corrupt adviser, nor yet is this the old badger caught in a trap. He is now a ruler and a warleader in all the senses of the term. His commitment to his honor means that he will never be content to just stay on the sidelines. Instead, he will charge ahead into battle.
Moreover, Théoden’s unwillingness to be left behind–for all that it would probably be the politically wise thing to do–also echoes Éowyn’s reluctance to be left behind. They both realize that this might very well be the last battle that the Rohirrim ever fight, that there might not be any victory worth the name but instead a defeat from which none will emerge alive. That being the case, it’s far better to at least die with a sword in one’s hand rather than cower at home waiting for the flood from Mordor to sweep them all away.
Speaking of Éowyn. I’ve written in this newsletter before that she is one of the very best characters that Tolkien ever created, and I stand by that statement. Here we once again see her as she struggles with the fact that she has been left behind by Aragorn and that she now faces the same possibility, though this time from her uncle. We already know that she carries a grievous wound to her heart and her soul, and that feeling only grows more acute during the few lines that she has in this chapter.
Much like Éowyn, Merry finds himself dismissed, but not before he gets to spend some time with Théoden. I’ve always thought that the bond between the old king and the young hobbit is one of the most touching in the entirety of The Lord of the Rings. To begin with there’s the fact that the Rohirrim, at least, seem to bear some ancestral memory of the hobbits and their ways, though they have now come to see them as little more than a fairy tale. Here, we get some fascinating insight into the Paths of the Dead and the men who guard them. As you already know, I love these moments where a character gets to speak about the rich history of Middle-earth, and you also know that I love when Tolkien dips into horror and the eldritch. In Théoden’s evocation of the mysterious men who guard those ways we get a bit of both, though even he can say little for certain. Indeed, it is precisely the fact that these sinister guardians remain so shrouded in mystery that they are so terrifying. Nothing is as frightening as that which cannot be seen, after all.
And then poor Merry ends up being left behind. Even though the old king tries to be gentle with him and gives him a very sound set of reasons for why he can’t be included, nothing can fully take the sting out of the fact that he has once again been reduced to nothing more than a hindrance. Or, to put it more accurately, he’s once again nothing more than an afterthought condemned, or so it seems, to be a witness rather than a participant in the great deeds of history.
This moment is significant for a number of reasons. From a narrative point of view, it once again positions a hobbit character in a moment of crisis and indecision, in which he has no power until the timely intervention of a kindly Rider who gives him the chance to ride with the Rohirrim. Thematically, of course, it also underscores the extent to which these little people are repeatedly underestimated by those with more traditional kinds of power. Men like Théoden and Éomer, for all of their wisdom and their martial prowess, simply can’t wrap their heads around the idea that someone like Merry (or Éowyn) would have anything to contribute when it comes to deeds of valor and armed warfare.
It’s also worth noting that, at this moment, we as readers don’t realize that Dernhelm is none other than Éowyn, who has taken on the guide of a young male warrior so that she can ride to battle rather than be left behind. There are hints that this might be the case, but they won’t be confirmed until the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, when she reveals herself in the climactic confrontation with the Witch-king of Angmar. (I always find this to be a potent piece of dramatic irony, one that is unfortunately lost in Jackson’s film adaptation. That’s not the director’s fault, though, as there’s almost no way to do this while remaining plausible).
As subsequent events will reveal, the actions of Merry and Éowyn will shape the course of events in ways that no one expected.