The Lord of the Rings: A Journey in the Dark (Part One)

The Tale

That evening they are very weary. Gandalf gives them all another sip of miruvor. They must rest through the night, as their attempt on the Redhorn Pass has exhausted them. Meanwhile they must decide what to do now: find some other way forward, or return to Rivendell in defeat. The return to Rivendell will be more perilous now, and lead to ultimate defeat when Sauron’s forces come to overwhelm it. ‘Then we must go on, if there is a way,’ said Frodo with a sigh.

There is a way, a dark and dangerous way, Gandalf replies, that he and Aragorn have discussed before they had tried the Pass. That is to take the road that leads through the Mines of Moria. A dread falls on the rest of the company. Moria is a name of ill-omen, a legend of fear. Boromir asks why they don’t go southward along the mountains and through the Gap of Rohan?

Gandalf says that the road is more perilous now that he travels with the Ringbearer than when Boromir came that way alone. It goes too close to Isengard and Saruman. It would take much longer, and they cannot afford the time. If they take the road under the mountains, they will vanish from spying eyes for a while and it will be the way the Enemy least expects. There may be Orcs, true, but the Orcs of the Misty Mountains were greatly reduced by the Battle of Five Armies. Maybe they will even find the Dwarves there, and Balin son of Fundin ruling in some deep hall. In any case, they ‘must tread the path that need chooses!’

Only Gimli seems eager to see the halls of Durin. Gandalf himself has passed through Moria alive, as has Aragorn, but the Ranger says the memory is very evil. But he says that he will go, though some foresight warns him that if Gandalf passes through the doors of Moria, beware! The danger to the Wizard will be greatest. Boromir and Legolas declare against it. The hobbits are silent and look to Frodo. At last Frodo says he does not wish to go against the advice of Gandalf, but they should wait to vote on the matter until after they have rested. The morning might bring better counsel then the cold gloom and the howling wind.

‘Suddenly Aragorn leapt to his feet. ‘How the wind howls!’ he cried. ‘It is howling with wolf voices. The Wargs have come west of the Mountains!’

That decides things immediately. They will seek the way into Moria, some twenty miles away, come the morning light. Pippin expresses his fear, but Sam says they have some stout folk with them, and he doubts that Gandalf is destined for the belly of a wolf. They climb to the top of the hill where they have been sheltering. It is crowned by a knot of trees and a broken circle of stones. They go ahead and build a fire; there is no hope of secrecy from the hunting packs now.

They sit around the fire, and those not on guard doze uneasily. Bill the Pony trembles and sweats as the wolves howl all around them. Then in the dead of night the Fellowship is surrounded by a circle of shining eyes just beyond the firelight. They can see one great dark wolf-shape advancing on them; it lets out a shuddering, summoning howl.

‘Gandalf stood up and strode forward, holding his staff aloft. ‘Listen, Hound of Sauron!’ he cried. ‘Gandalf is here. Fly, if you value your foul skin! I will shrivel you from tail to snout, if you come within this ring.’ The wolf springs forward with a snarl, but at that moment Legolas looses his bow, piercing the beast’s throat with an arrow. It yells and falls dead with a thud, and the shining circle of eyes is extinguished. The pack has fled and the howls cease.

The night is old, the waning moon setting, when Frodo starts awake as they are suddenly surrounded by a storm of howls. A great host of Wargs has gathered and is charging the hilltop. The company throws fresh fuel on the fire, and the springing Wargs attack the camp. Aragorn and Boromir are hewing with their great swords, Gimli is wielding his axe, and ‘the bow of Legolas was singing.’

Suddenly Gandalf strides forth, snatching a burning brand from the fire and seeming to grow into a great menacing shape. The wolves give back before him, and he tosses the brand high in the air. ‘It flared with a sudden white radiance like lightning and his voice rolled like thunder.’ The tree above him bursts into leaping flames that spread from tree-top to tree-top until the hill is crowned with dazzling light. Legolas’ last arrow kindles into fire as it flies and plunges into the heart of a great wolf-chieftain. All the others flee.

The fires die down to embers and ash and bitter smoke. The first light of dawn fills the sky. The enemy does not return. Sam sheathes his sword. ‘That was an eye-opener and no mistake! Nearly singed the hair off my head!’

The full light of morning shows that the corpses of the wolves have disappeared, leaving only the arrows of Legolas behind undamaged, except one that has burned down to a point. These were no ordinary wolves hunting for food.

The weather turns clear, as if there is no more use for snow now that they have retreated from the pass, and some power wishes to have clear light to see any travelers moving through the land. Gandalf points out a line of bare cliffs on the mountains’ side ahead of them, and in the midst of them one great grey wall, taller than the rest. That is where they are heading. They try to find the track by following the Sirannon stream, but it seems to have dried up for some reason and cannot be found. They scramble and wander through a land of dry red stone. The company’s hearts sink: they must find the door by nightfall, or they will surely be attacked again in the wild.

Suddenly Gimli, who has pressed ahead, calls them forward. They find the bed of the Sirannon, empty and silent with barely a trickle of water. But by it is a path, broken and decayed, that winds its way toward their goal.

‘Ah! Here it is at last!’ said Gandalf. ‘This is where the stream ran: Sirannon, the Gate-Stream, they used to call it. But what has happened to the water, I cannot guess; it used to be swift and noisy. Come! We must hurry on. We are late.’

 

Bits and Bobs

Sauron has a long history with wolves in the Legendarium. In The Silmarillion, he is known as the Lord of Werewolves and for a while has his fortress the tower of Tol-in-Gaurhoth (the Isle of Werewolves), which began as the original Minas Tirith under Finrod Felagund.  There Sauron began breeding large wolves and by sending evil spirits into them, turned them into werewolves. He even turned himself into a wolf in an effort to destroy the great hound Huan in accordance with a prophecy, but failed to fulfill the terms and was defeated. Both he and Morgoth use wolves and Wargs (unusually large, intelligent wolves) in their armies.

Tolkien derived the word warg from the Old English wearg and the Old Norse vargr, terms translated as choker, strangler, so named from the way wolves kill.  While Norse vargr was a common synonym for wolf, Old English wearg was used only for an outlaw or hunted criminal. The term persisted into Medieval times when wolf’s-head was applied to outlaws and robbers. I remember Prince John calling Robin Hood a wolf’s-head in the 1938 Errol Flynn film.

The Wargs that attack the Fellowship in Hollin appear to be some kind of wraith or specter, as they leave no physical remains. Regular Wargs are more substantial.

Gandalf once again shows his mastery of fire and lights. The spell that he uses, ‘Naur en edraith ammen! Naur dan i ngaurhoth!’ translates from Sindarin to ‘Fire be for saving of us! Fire against the wolf-horde!’ His sudden towering appearance as he uses his power recalls his intimidating pose to Bilbo when getting him to give up the Ring.

Sam’s phlegmatic observations on their situation once more serve as a coda to punctuate episodes, even more times than I have noted above. While earlier they were gloomier, as the situation grows more dire, the more encouraging his remarks become.