The Lord of the Rings: A Knife in the Dark

The Tale

That same evening as Frodo and his companions settle down in The Prancing Pony, Fatty Bolger is having a bad night back in Crickhollow. A feeling of fear has been growing all day and now he sees black shapes moving in the dark. The gate seems to open and close of its own accord and three black figures enter, creeping along the ground. They take up position before the front door and to the left and right and wait. In the cold hour before dawn there is a blow to the door and a menacing voice commands, “Open, in the name of Mordor!”

The door bursts open and the black figures pass in. But at the same moment there comes the Horn-call of Buckland (‘AWAKE! FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE!’), raising the alert. Fatty has run for his life to the nearest house, gibbering with fear, and the Bucklanders have sounded the alarm, only understanding that there has been some strange invasion. The Black Riders ride off, not because they are afraid but because they now know for sure that the Ring is not there, and they must seek it elsewhere.

That night Frodo is once again disturbed by dreams of galloping hooves and a rising wind shaking the house, carrying a distant horn-call blowing wildly. He awakes to cockcrow and the first grey light of dawn as Strider throws open the shutters and gets the hobbits up.

They go to look at their bedrooms, and find the windows forced open and the beds and bolsters slashed and thrown about. Some Black Riders have apparently been at work here as well. Strider determines they should leave immediately before too many folks are up and stirring to see where they go.

There is a complication, though. Their ponies, along with every other riding animal in Bree, have been driven away and scattered. Strider says that they could not outrun the Riders on ponies anyway. They will need at least one beast, however, to carry supplies. Bob, Butterbur's ostler, is sent to scout for one, but most ponies in the area are workers and not easily spared. Their early start ruined, at least the hobbits can sit down to a real breakfast.

After a delay of more than three hours Bob returns with news that there is one pony for sale – by none other than the villainous Bill Ferny! A poor, half-starved creature, going for at least three times its worth; but Mr. Butterbur pays for it as some compensation for their loss suffered at his house, in addition to giving Merry eighteen silver pennies more for his lost ponies. It turns out later that they had bolted back to Bombadil’s house, who returns them to the innkeeper, but for now it seems a heavy blow to Butterbur’s finances.  

The company finally leaves under the eyes of the gathered crowd, who are excited by the events of the night and intrigued that the Shire hobbits have been joined by a Ranger. They march off, Frodo and Strider in front, then Merry and Pippin, and finally Sam with the poor old pony. Sam has a pocketful of apples given him as a parting gift by Bob and Nob.

As they leave town, they pass Bill Ferny’s ill-kept house, and Frodo catches a glimpse of the squint-eyed Southerner ducking away from the window. Bill Ferny is leaning on the hedge and he mocks them as they pass. Strider is impassive, but Sam, using the hobbit talent for throwing, pastes him on the nose with an apple. He withdraws, cursing. ‘“Waste of a good apple,” said Sam regretfully, and strode on.’

For a couple of days Strider leads them through a series of turning and doubling paths to put off pursuit. On the third day they are out of Bree, he takes them through the Midgewater Marshes, a bewildering and treacherous area sure to hinder mounted Riders. It is, however, infested with biting flies and midges (‘Midgewater! There are more midges than water!’ ‘What do they live on when they can’t get hobbit?), and at night with a loud unpleasant cricket-like insect that Sam dubs Neekerbreekers, from the maddening noise they make while the Hobbits try to sleep.

On the night of the fourth day Frodo and Strider observe a strange light in the eastern sky, flashing and fading like lightning leaping from the hilltops.

On the fifth day they leave the marshes and see a line of hills ahead, the tallest of which Strider identifies as Weathertop, the place they are headed for. There is some slight chance they might find Gandalf there. But at any rate, they can get a good look from its top and can scout the land out before proceeding. When they camp at night, Frodo jests that with all this walking and scant meals that he is slimming down. ‘I hope the thinning process will not go on indefinitely, or I shall become a wraith.’ ‘Do not speak of such things!’ Strider replies earnestly.

On the sixth day they reach the feet of the hills and make camp. There is much broken stone-work and weathered roads in the area; Merry says it has a barrow-wightish look. Strider says there are no barrows. In the old days of the North Kingdom the Men of the West built fortresses here and the great watchtower of Amon Sul on the crest of Weathertop. It was burned and broken, and only a ring of old stones remains. But from the top of the tower they say Elendil looked for the coming of Gil-Galad from the West. Merry asks who Gil-galad was, and to everyone’s surprise Sam recites a poem about the last Elven-King that Bilbo taught him, how ‘into darkness fell his star in Mordor where the shadows are.’ Sam never dreamt he might be headed that way himself. Pippin cries out that he hopes it won’t come to going to Mordor, and Strider warns not to say that name so loudly.

The next day they climb up Weathertop and look around. While Sam and Pippin set up camp, Frodo, Merry, and Strider climb warily to the top to have a look around. They find a small cairn of rocks with some ambiguous signs scratched on them. It could be read as G3, possibly meaning Gandalf might have been there on the third. That could explain the leaping lights they saw then. Meanwhile, Rivendell is still at least two weeks away.

Frodo looks out wearily back the way they have come and is shocked to see two far away black specks coming along the Road. It seems pursuit is drawing close to them again. There is nowhere safer they can flee to tonight, so they return to the camp in a hollow dell on the hill. Sam and Pippin have found some traces of recent occupancy, including a store of wood. Strider takes it as a good sign. The Riders do not love fire, and in the wilderness, it can be both shelter and a weapon. Sam mutters that it’s also a good way of showing the enemy exactly where they are in the dark.

They build a fire, eat a sparse meal from their dwindling supplies, and hunker down around the blaze. To keep their spirits up, Strider first sings a song about Beren (a mortal man) and Luthien (an Elf princess), then tells the story of their love, their defiance of the first Dark Lord, Morgoth, and how they wrested a Silmaril from his crown. He speaks of their descendants, especially Earendil, who sailed his ship into the seas of heaven with the Silmaril on his brow. And from him came the old line of the Kings of Numenor, some of whom came to rule in Middle-earth. His voice is deep and eager as he tells the story; it seems to be of great personal significance to him.

Strider pauses. The moon comes climbing over the hill. Sam and Merry move out of the firelight for a moment. Frodo feels a cold dread creeping into his heart, and Sam comes running back, followed by Merry. Sam has been spooked by a sudden fear, and Merry has seen black shapes moving towards the camp. Strider bids them take burning brands from the wood-fire and circle it, facing outward.

The fear and silence grow until shadows rise on the crest of the dell, shadows darker than darkness, that slowly advance on the camp. The hiss of venomous breath can be heard as they draw near. Merry and Pippin throw themselves to the ground in terror and Sam shrinks by Frodo’s side. But Frodo himself is suddenly filled with a great temptation to put on the Ring, overwhelming even his fear. The urge seems to come from outside. He struggles a while; then, when resistance becomes unbearable, he slips the Ring on the forefinger of his left hand.

The dark figures become terribly clear to him. Two stand on the lip of the dell; three are advancing. ‘In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes; under their mantles were long grey robes; upon their grey hairs were helms of silver; in their haggard hands were swords of steel.’ The tallest, with a crown on his helm, approaches Frodo with sword and knife. The knife and the hand that holds it glow with a pale light. In this strange visionary world Frodo’s own barrow-blade flickers with a red fire.

The leader lunges forward to attack, and Frodo falls forward, crying out ‘O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!’ (remembering the Elves’ song way back in the Woody End) and striking at his enemy’s feet. At the same time, he feels a pain like a dart of ice piercing his left shoulder. He sees Strider leaping out of the darkness with a flaming brand in either hand. Frodo drops his sword and with a last supreme effort takes the Ring off and closes his right hand tightly around it before he swoons.

Bits and Bobs

Poor Fatty is really put through it, having to face three Black Riders by himself in a lonely house at night. It’s no wonder that despite his fears he later becomes a sort of minor hero in his own right. After that, any other danger seems minor.

Tolkien wrote a series of documents, later published in Unfinished Tales under the title ‘The Hunt for the Ring’, in part of which he analyzes the bewildering movements and motivations of the Black Riders. From his position of omniscient narrator, he explains their puzzlement with this ‘modern’ world of the Shire and the confusing altruistic aims of their opponents. Interesting insight is given into the otherwise enigmatic character of the Ringwraiths.

I imagine that Tolkien’s little episode telling of the ultimate fate of the ponies is a sort of holdover from The Lord of the Ring’s origin as a sequel to the children’s story of The Hobbit. Young readers might well be concerned about the safety of the animals involved. It’s good to know, if not necessary, that Butterbur comes out well on the deal in the end and that the ponies are okay. But they never did make it to Rivendell.

In ‘The Hunt for the Ring’ Tolkien states plainly that the strange lights Frodo and Strider observe one night are indeed from Gandalf fighting with the Black Riders. He is close by, seeking for Frodo, but keeps missing the company in the wilderness as he is harried by the Ringwraiths.

As they travel, the hobbits become more and more impressed with their new guide. He seems to know a lot of lore for a wanderer in the wild. We later learn this is because of his personal connections with the stories he tells. He even implies that he knows Bilbo, though that thought seems to pass the others by. Strider also warns them about speaking aloud evil names or unpleasant thoughts; in this world, words have power. His tales act as a pretty good ‘teaser’ for The Silmarillion.

The tower on Weathertop, called Amon Sul, was once the location of one of the palantiri. Not all of the seeing-stones were the same size, however, and the stone there was large enough that it needed more than one person to lift it. It was removed at the downfall of the North Kingdom and then lost in the sea.

When Frodo puts on the Ring, we get a glimpse of the ‘Unseen’ spirit world, which becomes all too horribly real while the ‘Seen’ world blurs away. Even the spells on the Witch-King’s knife and on Frodo’s barrow-blade shine and flicker, their magical power made plain in this realm. Frodo sees the Riders all in grey and silver, bleached away, as it were, from the colors of light and life.

In the immediate presence of the Ringwraiths, Frodo succumbs at last to the power of the Ring. But he still has enough unexpected will to call on Elbereth and to strike at his enemy. He is proving to be surprisingly tough.

Readers of this blog may note that I do not employ a lot of the iconography from the Jackson films, as they are the most familiar images and have dominated all LOTR depictions after them. I do use a lot of art from the Brothers Hildebrandt. It is a sentimental favorite of mine, if not always strictly book accurate. I think the best ‘modern’ Tolkien interpreter is Alan Lee (one of the concept artists for the films), followed second by Ted Nasmith and his calendar art, with John Howe a technical third. I do like to find other artists who illustrate some of the more obscure scenes from the book and am particularly fond of Denis Gordeev’s Russian take on things. Of course, if I can slip Tolkien’s own art in, that’s all to the better.

I hope my summations of the chapters are not becoming unwieldy, but I find quite a few of the details and descriptions too fascinating to leave alone. I begin to understand how Corey Olson of Signum University on YouTube can stretch his explanations of a mere two paragraphs of LOTR over a whole month.