Present Concerns

 

Illegal Immigration

Abortion

Government Spending

Wideo Wednesday Whut?

 

Well, my late posting of LOTR bumped my Wideo Wednesday back a few hours, but here it is. Usually I have a more cohesive theme, I hope; at least the videos are connected somehow in my mind. I'm going to say these are all a bit Halloweeny, or at least seasonal. Anyway, they are all things I've watched in the last few days. The movies you may have to sign in for, to prove your age, but they are all 'free with ads.'

Operation Poltergeist – Pom Poko

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klbeDecBI6I

All is True

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBAPKQccIEM&t=3906s

The Witches of Saturday Morning Cartoons

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-OtcWXWm7Y

First Men in the Moon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qHnSbi9roB8&t=1783s

A Elbereth Gilthoniel – Clamavii De Profundis

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGT_ujNy3nA

Gargoyles 1972

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5msf4OmegI

The Lord of the Rings: The Passing of the Grey Company (Part Four)

The Tale

‘And while Theoden went by slow paths in the hills, the Grey Company passed swiftly over the plain, and on the next day in the afternoon they came to Edoras; and there they halted only briefly, ere they passed up the valley, and so came to Dunharrow as darkness fell.’

They are greeted by Eowyn, who is glad to see such mighty men, but most of her attention seems to be on Aragorn. She hears the full tale of Helm’s Deep; as she hears of the great slaughter of the enemy and of the heroic charge of Theoden and his knights, her eyes shine. She says they will find Aragorn and his company places to rest for the night, and better beds tomorrow night.

But Aragorn reveals that they must leave tomorrow morning on a most urgent errand. Eowyn smiles and says it was kind of him to go out of his way and visit her in her loneliness, but her face blanches and she goes silent when he says it is on his way to take the Paths of the Dead. Does he seek death? For the dead do not suffer the living to pass on that Path.

’They may suffer me to pass,’ said Aragorn; but at the least I shall adventure it. No other road will serve.’

That is madness, replies Eowyn. And he would lead all these warriors to their doom when they are needed in the upcoming war! But this is his appointed path, and whoever does so, does of his own free will. The others can stay here; but he himself must go, alone if necessary.

They speak no more but finishing eating, but Eowyn’s eyes are on Aragorn and she seems in torment. When they are done and go to Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas’ ‘booth’ (tent or temporary hut) to sleep, she comes and stops him before he can follow the other two in. She is a slim white figure in the night.

She asks him one last time if he must go. Aragorn replies it is the only he sees of doing his part in the war against Sauron. He doesn’t choose it because he wants to. If he did what his heart wanted to, he’d be in Rivendell. When Eowyn sees that Aragorn is ‘a stern lord and resolute,’ she has one last plea. Let her go with him. She is tired of hiding in the hills and wants to face danger and battle.

When Aragorn tells her that she has a duty to lead her people, and she cries out that she’s heard about duty too often. ‘But am I not of the House of Eorl, a shieldmaiden and not a dry-nurse?’ Too long she’s spent caring for the faltering Theoden, and since he falters no longer, ‘may I not now spend my life as I will?’

‘Few may do that with honor,’ he answered.’ She has accepted the charge to care for the people. If any other captain or marshal had taken the duty, to leave it would be desertion. And so it is with her.

Will she always be chosen to mind the house while warriors win fame in battle, and to feed and house them when they return? But, says Aragorn, a time may be coming when none return, and deeds without fame but no less valiant must be done in defense of their homes. Eowyn says that just means ‘You are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honor, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.’ But she can ride and wield a sword and fears neither pain nor death.

What does she fear, Aragorn asks. ‘A cage,’ she said. ‘To stay behind bars, until use or old age accept them, and all chance of doing great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.’ And yet she tried to dissuade him from taking the Paths of the Dead. But she did not tell him to flee from peril; just do not throw away something ‘high and excellent’ needlessly. And that’s what he’s asking her; to stay, and not throw her life away. She has no errand to the South.

‘Neither have those that go with thee. They go only because they would not be parted from thee – because they love thee.’ She turns and vanishes into the night.

 

The next day, when it is light, but the sun hasn’t even risen over the eastern ridges, Aragorn and the Grey Company prepare to ride. But before he mounts, Eowyn comes out to bid him goodbye, bearing a cup of farewell. She takes a sip, wishes them good speed, and hands to cup to Aragorn. He bids her farewell, and drinks to her fortune, and of her House, and of all her people. He asks her to tell Eomer they might meet yet, beyond all shadows. Legolas and Gimli are nearby and can see her weeping ‘and in one so stern and proud that seemed the more grievous.’

Eowyn asks one more time, but Aragorn will go, and he will not take her with him. He can’t without Theoden and Eomer’s consent and they won’t be there until tomorrow, and he needs every minute now. She falls on her knees and begs him, He raises her, kisses her hand, springs into the saddle and rides away. But those near him see the pain he bears.

Eowyn stands still as stone until they pass into the shadows of the Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, where are the Paths of the Dead. Then she stumbles blindly back to her lodging. But none of her people see her; they have hidden in fear of the reckless strangers who would ride such a way.

‘And some said: ‘They are Elvish wights. Let them go where they belong, into to dark places, and never return. The times are evil enough.’

Bits and Bobs

Eowyn is glad to hear about the battle exploits of the Rohirrim; she had feared that the House of Eorl would end in ignominy with the weakening of Theoden. It stirs her valiant heart; she is a shield maiden (a female warrior, of a type mentioned in Norse folklore and mythology; two famous shield-maidens are Hervor and the ever-popular Brynhildr, or Brunnhilde) and no longer need be a dry-nurse (a wet-nurse takes care of infant, feeding them with breast milk; a dry nurse takes care of anybody, in other words, just what we’d call a nurse).

Aragorn says that the Dead may ‘suffer’ (tolerate, allow) him to pass; at any rate he will ‘adventure’ (venture, try without guarantee of success) it. He gently hints at his heart being with another, Arwen, far away in Rivendell. Eowyn still wants to go. In early drafts of the story, Eowyn was going to be Aragorn’s love interest and Queen.

But she still wants to go and fight, now that she doesn’t have to care for Theoden, she wants to ‘spend her life as she will’, but Aragorn she still has a duty to her people to remain, where she may still have valiant deeds to do. Her bitter complaint about being burned in the house after all the warriors are gone is a fate that happened all too often in the Norse sagas: many valiant Vikings did not hesitate to burn their enemies’ halls, with the women and children and elderly; if they did not surrender. (see the terrible Njal’s Saga.)

Eventually Eowyn starts using the more intimate ‘thee’ with Aragorn, while he continues using the formal ‘you,’ to keep her at a distance. She provides him with a ‘stirrup cup’, a parting cup given to departing guest, when their feet are ‘in the stirrup,’ so to say, and they are ready to leave. For her to go on her knees to beg to go is an extravagant gesture for a noble lady.

The Dwimorberg, the Haunted Mountain, is translated in Old English from dwimor (ghost, phantom, illusion, deception, delusion) and beorg (mountain). Compare Eowyn’s name for the Lord of the Nazgul dwimmerlaik (work of necromancy, spector) and Dwimordene (haunted or enchanted valley), the Rohirric name for Lothlorien. The Rohirrim, in general, considered all ‘sketchy’ uncanny things in the same superstitious light; it’s no wonder they referred to the Grey Company as ‘Elvish wights’; uncanny beings perhaps not quite human, and better off far away.

For the Fluttering End of the Season

 

The Case of Ambrose Abernathy (Part Two)

     "Miss Kindermass?" he managed at last. "I am Mr. Ambrose Abernathy, from the Department of Extranatural Affairs." He shuffled out his wallet and produced a card. She took it with her free hand and looked at it as if he had handed her a dead lizard. "We--I've come to do some follow-up investigation. You remember Mr. Sackett was here before..."

     The lady snorted. It pinched her nose even thinner.

     "And a fat lot of good he did. You people took your time getting back to us." She shifted the dog to get a better grip. "Well, I suppose you'd better come on in. Wipe your feet!" she added sharply.

     Abernathy desperately scuffled his feet on the mat, hung his hat on the coatrack behind the door, and hurried after the disappearing figure of Miss Kindermass into the dimness of the house. With the gathering clouds outside it was growing darker by the minute. He stumbled past obscure pictures and brushed by tiny tables burdened with dusty flowers and bell-jars, following the flag of the lady's rapidly receding skirts. She threw open a parlor door after a final sharp turn down a corridor, flooding the hall with the light of a blazing fire.

     The room inside was stifling and overstuffed with ormolu and chintz. He skittered to a halt, panting and wheezing, as the lady abruptly stopped, set the dog down, and with a precise gesture introduced him to what appeared to be an enormous bundle of laundry and a fragile china doll seated in deep frilly chairs by the fireplace.

     "My sisters," she said, "Miss Anne and Miss Sarah."

     He bowed hastily and began, "Ladies...," but at that instant the pug bounded over to the chairs and clambered enthusiastically up into the capacious lap of the larger sister. The attentions of both the seated ladies were immediately galvanized.

     "Poopschen!" Miss Anne oozed. Her voice was like a bubbling pot of lumpy oatmeal. She began vigorously scratching the beast behind the ears, and he spread himself in ecstasy, puddling his furry folds across her lap. "Has 'oo come to see your Mumsy? Yes 'oo has, yes 'oo has!"

     The tiny Miss Sarah spread her arms out to the dog, like a child asking to be picked up.

     "Oooh, Chessy, come see little meez!" she piped. "Hasn't Chessy got a little kissee for his little meez!"

     Abernathy looked back and forth at them as they caressed and cajoled the pug, at a loss for words. They seemed totally unaware of his presence. He cleared his throat and started again.

     "Ladies..."

     "It's no use, Mr. Abernathy, they're both cracked as cuckoos," the elder Miss Kindermass said matter-of-factly, as she turned away. "The only things they talk to are me and that demanding little creature."

     "Then why...?" he began.

     "It's only manners," she said abruptly. She frowned. "I suppose now you would want to get your investigation started. So we can get this over with?"

     "Oh, yes. Please." The agent hesitated. "Do you think before I begin, I could get a drink of water? I tried the well--"

     "That old thing hasn't worked in ages. I'd have thought that was obvious." She sniffed. "Come into the kitchen."

     The hall was even darker after the brightly lit parlor. As they passed the occasional window it was no better. Outside the clouds had swallowed up the setting sun, and a growing, grieving wind was starting to make its presence known.

     The kitchen was so filled with potted herbs that he gagged on the spiciness of the air. As he gulped down a glass of sulfurous yellow water that he had to pump himself, a low rumble of thunder rattled the plates in the cupboard. The elder Miss Kindermass -- he now thought of her as THE Miss Kindermass, as she had not supplied her first name -- tapped her toe while he drank. His throat tickled, somehow even scratchier after his refreshment, as she lit a lamp and led him back through the halls and into the apparent center of the disturbances.

     She swung open a heavy pine door at the very rear of the house.

     "The master bedroom," she announced. "This is where our father died, and from this room my brother Wallace vanished, over twenty years ago."

     The room was bare, absolutely bare, except for a sturdy bed draped in a dust cover and a huge built-in wardrobe. After the crowded nature of the rest of the house, it was like stepping into a lifeless arctic wasteland. With a grim, measured gate Miss Kindermass entered the space, lamp held high. It seemed to stream shadows more than light down into the room. The agent shivered. In the quivering flame, the bed looked like a squat, bestial specter.

     "Vanished," she continued. "And with him, his beloved bitch, Topsy. Over the years, several other dogs have gone missing from this house. Spotty, Gertrude, Mattie, Brownie, Lucinda, Ginger..."

     She sniffed. Abernathy looked up at her and was surprised to see tears watering in those severe blue eyes. She sniffed again and shook herself.

     "These disappearances always centered on this room. The girls would be gone, and we would find the door hanging ajar. We kept it up, you know, as a guest room, but eventually we stripped it down and put a lock on it, and since we got Chester, we've had no problems with the other phenomena. But I still worry."

     "Other phenomena?" The little agent hastily pulled out his notepad and a stub of a pencil. "What other phenomena would those be?"

     "I told your man Sackett all that." She frowned. "Didn't he report any of it?"

     Abernathy thought guiltily of the dossier that he had glanced over briefly in contempt, now lying buried some certain fathoms below the earth inside his lost kit.

     "Oh, well, of course," he stammered. "But we like to go over it again firsthand. Confirmation from primary sources, and so on. Just to make sure, you understand?" He smiled at her and nodded his head, trying vainly to garner assent.

     The lady sighed wearily.

     "The stupid waste of it all! Our tax dollars at work, I suppose. Not to mention the time. Very well. There are sounds, every now and then, not very loud, like groans or rumbles, not human, you know, not voices, but not the house settling. I know that sound very well, and this is nothing like it, so don't try to persuade me that it is."

     "Oh, no, of course not," he said. His pencil flew over the notepad.

     "And some people have said they've seen a pale, fishy kind of light. I never have, myself." She walked over to the window and set the lamp down on the sill. "They can never tell quite where it's coming from. But I have smelled the smell."

     "The smell?"

     "Please don't ask me to describe it; it's like nothing I've ever known. The most I can say is that it has something of a chemical tang, but also earthy, somehow. Oh, how can one explain a smell? Other people have smelled it, and have had the same difficulty as I."

     Abernathy raised his eyes.

     "Other people...?"

     "Cleaning girls; we used to have them. Also, neighbors and friends, when they would still visit. Dead now, most of them, or too old to get about, and the young folk don't care to ... well, the young are mostly unpleasant people, anyway." She shrugged, and closed up again, like a touch-me-not.

     "Well, are you going to start 'investigating' then?" she asked.

     "Of course, Miss Kindermass," he said hurriedly. What a lonely life she must lead, he thought, and felt ashamed of the sudden personal insight behind the spiky old woman's facade. The case, the case, he reminded himself. "Would you mind leaving me alone for a bit, while I perform the preliminary examination?"

     "What? Why?" Her voice was sharp with suspicion.

     "Well, I need quiet … the etheric vibrations ... psychic emanations, and so on ... don't want to skew the readings and impressions -- strong personal influence, don't you know..."

     "Sounds like a bunch of humbug to me. Well, I have to check on Anne and Sarah anyway, and start supper." She passed him and headed out the door. She turned quickly with one hand on the knob before she left, a finger on the other raised in warning.

     "No pulling up the floorboards, mind. Or punching holes in the walls, either."

     Abernathy, who had begun to relax a little as she left, contracted once more in alarm.

     "No, of course not, ma'am, of course not!"

     She shook her head vigorously once, in grim, satisfied affirmation, and pulled the grinding door shut.  Abernathy heard the lock click with a little jump of his heart. He was alone in the desolate room.

Notes

Of course there had to be three old spinster sisters at the house; that's traditional, almost like the Three Witches or Triple Goddesses in the old tales. 

I'm sorry I do not have the LOTR post that might nave been expected today just yet; I'm feeling uncommonly lazy on this cool morning. Perhaps later this afternoon, if I can get more steam up. 

Found Another One

 

Ol'Witch Hazel and her niece Little Itch were frequent 'guests' in Little Lul;u Comics, in stories Lulu would tell Alvin to try to keep him quiet. I'm thinking about maybe trying to get some of the Little Lulu Gold Key Digests we had in the old days.

A Few Kind Words From Fyodor Dostoevsky