The Lord of the Rings: The Houses of Healing (Part Three)

Aragorn enters the Houses of Healing and the others follow. Inside they see Citadel guards, one tall and one short, and the short one is actually Pippin, who greats Aragorn with wonder and delight, calling him Strider, much to the consternation of Prince Imrahil. Is this how we greet our kings?

Aragorn laughs and tells Pippin they have no time to catch up just yet. But if ever his house is established, it will be called Strider. ‘But in the high tongue it will not sound so ill, and Telcontar I will be, and all the heirs of my body.’

As they walk along Gandalf tells him of the deeds of Eowyn and Merry. He knows because they spoke a lot in their dreaming before they sank down into silence. ‘Also it is given to me to see many things far off.’

Aragorn examines Faramir, Eowyn, and Merry and looks grave and weary. Eomer, seeing how tired he is, asks if he will not eat something and rest a while, but Aragorn says there is no time, and least of all for Faramir. He calls for Ioreth and asks if they have much store of herbs, and the old lady answers in a long complaint about how hard it is to get proper supplies, what with the war and all, but they do their best. Aragorn asks her very shortly if they have any athelas. She doesn’t know of anything by that name, but she could ask the herb-master.

He says it is sometimes called kingsfoil by the country folk, and Ioreth says, well no, we have none of that, she knows. She never heard it was good for anything. She once asked her sisters in Lossarnach why it’s called kingsfoil; if she were a king she’d have better plants in her garden. But it does smell wholesome when ‘bruised.’

Aragorn tells her then run as quick as her tongue and find some kingsfoil somewhere in the City, if any is to be had, as she loves the Lord Faramir.

‘And if not,’ said Gandalf, ‘I will ride to Lossarnach with Ioreth behind me, and she shall take me to the woods, but not to her sisters. And Shadowfax shall show her the meaning of haste.’

Bits and Bobs

Pippin says that somehow he knew it was Strider in the black fleet though everyone was shouting ‘corsairs!’ How he could have even suspected such a thing is never explained. He has not seen Aragorn since Gandalf took the hobbit to Gondor. A feeling, a lifting of heart?

Athelas is Sindarin (athae + lass); ‘leaves of the Kings.’ There is now a healthcare technology company that goes by the name.

In the Peter Jackson movies Sam calls kingsfoil a weed, though (gardener though he is) I wonder if he ever saw it in the cultivated Shire. It was said to grow wild in areas where the Dunedain had lived, and even then was hard to find. I wonder if Sam had ever wandered abroad much, even in the lands surrounding the Shire. But that was the movie, and they needed explication.

Ioreth fits the trope of the gabby old lady who, when asked a question, will rattle on in a discursive manner with whatever enters her head until she comes in a roundabout way to the answer one is looking for. I would say this is a stereotype if my own mother and my niece did not fit the trope to a T. You always have to have the explanatory story before the answer.

This is a pretty short snip, but I have a long day ahead.

The Lord of the Rings: The Houses of Healing (Part Two)

‘Now as the sun went down Aragorn and Eomer and Imrahil drew near the City with their captains and knights; and when the came before the Gate Aragorn said: ‘Behold the Sun setting in a great fire! It is a sign of the end and fall of many things, and a change in the tides of the world.’

He declares he will not enter Minas Tirith just yet. It has been in the rule of the Stewards for many years and to enter it unbidden might seem like a challenge, and cause upheaval among the people at this time of trouble. He’ll camp outside until welcomed in.

Eomer says that he’s already risen the standard of Elendil and the kings; will he let that be humbled? But Imrahil says he is wise; Denethor (whom he still believes is alive) is proud but old and set in his ways, and he’s been acting odd since Faramir was stricken down. ‘Yet I would not have you remain like a beggar at the door.’

‘Not a beggar,’ said Aragorn. ‘Say a Captain of the Rangers, who are unused to cities and houses of stone.’ He has his banner furled and takes off the Star of the North-kingdom and gives it to Elladan and Elrohir to keep for him.

But Eomer and Imrahil go into the City and go up to the Citadel, looking for the Steward to report and confer with. But when they come to the Hall of the tower his chair is empty, and before it is the body of Theoden, covered in a cloth of gold, laid in state with sword and shield and guarded by twelve knights of Rohan and twelve knights of Gondor. The peace of death is upon him, and he seems young, and wise beyond the reach of youth.

Imrahil asks of a guard for the Steward and is told he is in the Houses of Healing. And Eomer asks about Eowyn. Shouldn’t she be lying here with Theoden, in no less honor? Imrahil answers that she was still alive when they bore her in; didn’t Eomer know?

‘Then hope unlooked-for came so suddenly to Eomer’s heart, and with it the bite of care and fear renewed, that he said no more, but turned and went swiftly from the hall; and the Prince followed him.’ It is evening outside, and stars shine in the darkness above. Outside the Houses of Healing they meet Gandalf and ‘one cloaked in grey.’ They ask for the Steward; has he been hurt? And what of the Lady Eowyn?

Gandalf says she is inside, but near death. And the Steward is the wounded Faramir, for Denethor is now dead and his house in ashes. ‘And they were filled with grief and wonder at the tale he told.’ Imrahil says it is a sad day when both Rohan and Gondor lose their rulers. Eomer is new King of Rohan; with Faramir in peril, shouldn’t they now send for Aragorn?

‘And the cloaked man spoke and said: ‘He is come.’ He throws back his hood and it is Aragorn, wrapped in the grey cloak of Lorien, his only token the green stone Galadriel gave him. Gandalf has begged him to come. He is here not as king, though, but only as Captain of the Dunedain of the North. He says by his counsel Imrahil, as the Steward’s near kinsman, should rule until Faramir awakes, but that all their actions should be ruled by Gandalf in their ‘dealings with the Enemy.’ And Eomer and Imrahil agree.

‘Then Gandalf said: ‘Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spake Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.’

Notes

“The peace and youthfulness of the dead often represent a transition from earthly suffering to a state of calm, eternal rest, as described in literature and spiritual, as well as scientific, contexts. This state is frequently characterized by a release from fear, shame, and physical limitations, creating a "marble sleep" or serene, unchanging, and youthful stillness.” – AI summation.

Aragorn is very careful not to enter as merely a conquering hero, lest he seem too high-handed. All his claims to the kingdom must be established and proved first; he is not merely a victorious warrior; he is rightful king. His humility seems a little wry when says to tell people he is shy and not used to such high falutin’ stone buildings.

Ioreth seems to be a name that simply means old woman. That the hands of a king have the power to heal is an old medieval idea; the power was supposed to descend on them when they were sacramentally anointed. It is mentioned in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, where Edward the Confessor is mentioned as having the power. It is a form of laying on of hands, called the Royal (or King’s) Touch, and was said to cure the King’s Evil (scrofula, a tubercular infection). The last monarch of England to perform the Royal Touch was Queen Anne in the early 1700’s. The infant Samuel Johnson was among the people she touched, to indifferent results.

The Lord of the Rings: The Houses of Healing (Part One)

‘A mist was in Merry’s eyes of tears and weariness when they drew near the ruined Gate of Minas Tirith.’ Devastation is all around, fire and reeking smoke, dead bodies abound (some half-burned), even those of mumakil (‘shot through the eyes by the valiant archers of Morthond.’).  All the lower city is ‘wrapped in a smouldering reek.’

People are already trying to clear the way in, and a line of litters are bringing in the dead and wounded. Eowyn is brought on soft pillows, but Theden is covered in a great cloth of gold. These are brought in with extra respect and are shown due respect; but Merry follows on foot, treading the winding stony ascent in a sort of daze. ‘A meaningless journey in a hateful dream.’

To Merry the torches of the procession seem to flicker and go out and he walks in darkness. He imagines the road is a dark tunnel leading to a tomb, where they will stay forever. ‘But suddenly into his dream there fell a living voice.’

It is Pippin! They are alone. Merry rubs his eyes and asks where Theoden and Eowyn have gone and learns that they have been taken into the Citadel. Pippin says Merry must have fallen asleep on his feet and taken a wrong turn somewhere. When Gandalf saw that Merry was not with them, he sent Pippin to find him. Pippin asks if he is hurt.

Merry says his right arm is numb and useless ‘since I stabbed him.’ ‘And my sword burned all away like a piece of wood.’ Pippin said they should not have let him walk all the way back. But so many dreadful things have happened, one little hobbit on a great battlefield is easy to overlook. Merry says sometimes it’s a good thing to overlooked. He was overlooked just now by – but he can’t talk of it. Just the remembered thought of the Witch-King makes him grow colder and his mind darker.

Pippin wishes he could carry him, but all he can do is have Merry lean on him and head back. ‘Are you going to bury me?’ said Merry.’

‘No, indeed!,’ said Pippin, trying to sound cheerful, though is heart was wrung with fear and pity. ‘No, we are going to the Houses of Healing.’

They struggle along until they reach the main street. Pippin wonders if there can possibly be anyone to help them; they’ll never get there at the rate they’re going. Then suddenly as if in a moment of miracle Bergil, Beregond’s son and Pippin’s friend, comes running by. He is doing errands for the Healers. Pippin asks him to bear a message to the Healers and especially to Gandalf, that they have a wounded hobbit on their hands and need help. Bergil agrees and speeds on.

Pippin decides they’d better wait there and sits down with Merry in a patch of sunlight, his friend’s head in his lap. Merry’s right hand, the one that struck the blow to the Nazgul, is ice cold.  Before long Gandalf himself appears, checks Merry out, and lifts him carefully. He should have been borne into the city with great honor. Merry has well repaid the trust Gandalf had in him. He recalls how Elrond didn’t want the younger hobbits to come; if they hadn’t, the day could have been even more disastrous. ‘And yet here is another charge on my hands, while all the time the battle hangs in the balance.’

Bits and Bobs

A litter is a framework for carrying the wounded or dead; nowadays we would probably say stretcher.

Morthond (black + root) was a region in central Gondor, where the Morthond River runs near the southern entrance to the Paths of the Dead. It was a green valley carved by the river. Shooting an elephant in its eye, as its one vulnerable spot, is a classic motif.

I can’t help but think this section of nightmarish fatigue was informed by Tolkien’s war experiences, too.

The Lord of the Rings: The Pyre of Denethor (Complete)

We go back a bit to the moment the Lord of the Nazgul fled from his encounter with Gandalf to go face the sudden threat of Rohan. Pippin is relieved from the shadow of fear, and tells Gandalf of Denethor’s madness and of his fears that the Steward will kill himself and the seriously wounded Faramir. He begs Gandalf to come and save them.

Gandalf hesitates a moment. The Lord of the Nazgul is still loose and could cause grave ruin if not opposed. As Pippin tells more of the dire situation, Gandalf finally agrees to come, since he is the only one who can help. But others will die. ‘Even in the heart of our stronghold, the Enemy has power to strike us; for his will it is that is at work.’

Having decided, they leave for Rath Dinen, climbing back up the city. As they pass, troops are already taking heart at the news that Rohan has come. They pass Prince Imrahil. The wizard charges him to take command, taking all the men he can. Gandalf will join them when he can; right now he has business with Denethor.

While darkness is passing on the battlefield, ‘it still lies heavy on the City.’ Beregond has left his post to save Faramir. They come to the Closed Door, wide open, its guard slain and its key taken. ‘Work of the Enemy!’ said Gandalf. ‘Such deeds he loves: friend at war with friend; loyalty divided in confusion of hearts.’ Here he takes leave of Shadowfax. The great horse cannot follow into these houses, but the wizard bids him to return at his call.

Pippin and Gandalf go down the silent street lined with columns and statues like ghosts in the growing light. Suddenly the silence is broken by the clash of swords, ‘such sounds as had not been heard in the hallowed places since the building of the City.’

Beregond is fighting, keeping the guards away from the inner chamber. He has already had to kill two of them; the others fight on, calling him faithless and traitor. Gandalf commands them to stop this madness.

At that moment the voice of Denthor comes from within, asking if he has to slay Beregond himself. He bursts out, sword in hand, eyes blazing. But Gandalf steps forward in great anger, lifting his hand, and the sword flies out of the Steward’s hand, who stands amazed. Gandalf asks him sternly just what is going on here.

Denethor snaps back that’s he’s not answerable to the wizard and can command his own servants. ‘You may,’ said Gandalf. ‘But others may contest your will, when it is turned to madness and evil.’ And where is Faramir?

‘He lies within,’ said Denethor, ‘burning, already burning. They have set a fire in his flesh. But soon all shall be burned. The West has failed. It shall go up in a great fire, and all shall be ended. Ash! Ash and smoke blown away on the wind!’

Fearing the worst, Gandalf forces his way into the room, to find Faramir lying on a table stacked with wood and drenched with oil. Gandalf leaps up and bears Faramir down nimbly, who moans and calls for his father in his fever.

Denethor breaks down and weeps, begging them not to take his son from him. Gandalf sternly tells him they cannot be joined in death yet; Faramir must go to the Houses of Healing, where he may die, while the Steward must go to lead and defend his City; he too may fall. Denethor despairs that Faramir is doomed to die; why can’t they die together?

‘Authority is not given to you, Steward of Gondor, to order the hour of your death,’ answered Gandalf. ‘And only the heathen kings, under the domination of the Dark Power, did thus, slaying themselves in pride and despair, murdering their kin to ease their own death.’ They bear Faramir out, and Gandalf gently tells them there is still much he can do.

But Denethor is struck with a spasm of pride and despair. He strides back to the pyre and uncovers the ‘pillow’ that Faramir’s head had lain on. It is a palantir, one of the Seeing Stones, and in the light of its smoldering inner fire the old lord’s face is lit with a red flame.

‘Didst thou think the eyes of the White Tower were blind?’ Denethor has seen more, much more then the Grey Fool thinks. He knows the extent of Sauron’s forces. And he has seen a black fleet sweeping up the Anduin, born on the deceitfully hopeful wind from the sea. And he knows Gandalf hopes to replace him with an upstart Ranger from the North. He has learned much from the Halfling ‘spy’ that he placed in his house.

But even if Aragorn’s claim was proved, still, he was only a scion of the House of Isildur, long bereft of power and dignity. What Denthor wants are things like they were in his fathers’ days, and a son who was no wizard’s pupil, and peace in his days. But since he can’t have that, he will have nothing!

He pulls out a knife and strides forward to kill Faramir, but Beregond stands forward into his way. So Gandalf steals even his knights’ hearts. But he calls the others to bring him fire, and he sets the pyre alight. Denethor snaps his steward’s rod and throws it into the flames, leaps upon the pyre, with the palantir still in his hands, and lays down.

‘And it was said ever after that if any man looked in that Stone, unless he had a great strength of will to turn it to other purpose, he saw only two aged hands withering in flame.’

Gandalf turns away in grief and horror, shutting the door on the fire. After a while Denethor gives a great cry and is never seen or heard again. Gandalf turns to the horrified ‘faithful’ servants and tells them to put aside all strife. Thanks to Beregond, Faramir is still alive, and must be taken for healing. They can pick up their fallen comrades and bear them away. He, Beregond, and Pippin take Faramir, and behind them the tomb of the Stewards crumbles and cracks with flame.

As they pass, Beregond looks with grief on the doorward he had killed in his haste. He gives the key to Gandalf for Faramir, who should now be Lord of the City, but Gandalf says keep it for now until he can hand it over at a more settled time. They proceed to the Houses of Healing. They are in the sixth circle of the City, on the southward side. Here are the only women left as nurses.

But even as they come to the main door of the Houses, there comes a great and terrible cry from the battlefield that rises high and piercing and then dies away on the wind. With its passing all hearts are lifted with hope ‘and it seemed to them that the light grew clear and the sun broke through the clouds.’

Gandalf looks grave and, bidding Pippin and Beregond take Faramir in, goes to the wall overlooking the fields. He stands for a long time, still as white statue, ‘and he beheld with that sight that was given to him all that had befallen,’ up to when Eomer rides out to the forefront of the battle. When Pippin and Beregond joins them, and he tells them that great joy and sorrow have befallen. The Lord of the Nazgul is slain, good news beyond all hope, but not without woe and bitter loss, loss the wizard might have prevented if not for the madness of Denethor.  Gandalf sees now that Sauron was working malice in the very heart of the City, and how he did it.

It was the Palantir, which Gandalf had long known was here. In the days of his wisdom Denethor knew better than to use it, but as the situation grew more dire, he dared the Stone. Sauron could not dominate his will, but he could show Denethor only visions that could tempt him to despair, letting neither hope nor good news through. It overthrew the Steward’s mind.

Pippin and Beregond see that it explains much, and Beregond mentions that strange lights were seen in the Tower and rumors abounded that the Steward often wrestled with the Enemy in mind.

Gandalf says he must go and meet those coming from the field, and bids Pippin come with him. But Beregond must surrender himself to the chief of the Guard and be removed from service, but Gandalf advises he be made Faramir’s bodyguard while he is in the Houses of Healing. After all, he has saved his life.

‘With that he turned away and went with Pippin down towards the lower city. And even as they hastened on their way the wind brought a grey rain, and all the fires sank, and there arose a great smoke before them.’

Bits and Bobs

I don’t have a whole lot of notes to offer here, except to notice the difference between the despairing suicide of Denethor and the peaceful yielding up of life by Aragorn after a long and productive existence. One is a rage of selfishness, the other an offering up, of letting a higher power take the reins.

Another is the note that Gandalf saw with 'the sight that was given him.’ That’s very interesting. Was it a vision sent to him, or was it through a power that had been given to him, say, when he returned enhanced as Gandalf the White? Something to ponder, a small note.

And this is the first complete chapter I’ve been able to do in one go in a long time.

The Lord of the Rings: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields (Part 4 and Last)

‘And now the fighting waxed furious on the fields of the Pelennor, and the din of arms rose upon high, and the crying of men and neighing of horses. Horns were blowing and trumpets were braying, and the mumakil were bellowing as they were goaded to war.’ The foot soldiers of Gondor advance on the Morgul-legions around the walls of the City, while their mounted troops ride to the aid of Eomer and the Rohirrim, ‘Hurin the Tall, Warden of the keys, and the Lord of Lossarnach, and Hirluin of the Green Hills, and Prince Imrahil with his fair Knights.’

And Eomer and his captains need it; their furious onset has driven wedges into the foe, great forces of Southrons. But wherever the mumakil (Oliphaunts) are the horses will not go, and the great beast stand unfought like towers in the middle of the battle with the Haradim rallying around them. The Rohirrim were already outnumbered by at least three times, and now new forces from Osgiliath are streaming onto the field.

These were forces that the Lord of the Nazgul had held mustered, awaiting the sack of Gondor. That Captain is now destroyed, but ‘Gothmog, the lieutenant of Morgul,’ now sends them into the fray; ‘Easterlings with axes, Variags of Khand, Southrons in scarlet, and out of Far Harad black men like half-trolls with white eyes and red tongues.’ They come up behind the Rohirrim and some try to keep the forces of Gondor from joining up with Rohan.

It is now when things are already looking bad that they seem to look worse. In the clear mid-morning with rain to the north and a driving wind, lookouts see a vast fleet of black sails coming up the Anduin. The cry goes up that the Corsairs [pirates] of Umbar are coming, and that the coastlands must have fallen. They try to call Gondor back into the City in retreat, but the wind blows their clamor away.

But Eomer can see them. He is not even a mile from Harlond, the great docks, and can see the ‘dromunds, and ships of great draught, and … black sails bellying in the breeze.’ He now curses the wind that is bringing them, but the hosts of Mordor are filled with new fury with the prospect of these reinforcements.

Eomer’s mind, however, clears, and he gathers men to make a great shield wall to fight to the last, ‘though no man should be left in the West to remember the last King of the Mark.’ He rides to a green hill and sets the banner and speaks these staves:

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day’s rising

I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

To hope’s end I rode and to heart’s breaking:

Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!

He laughs; the battle-fury is on him again. He isn’t wounded, he is young and king, and ‘lord of a fell people.’ He is ready to fight, beyond hope or despair. He raises his sword to the fleet in defiance.

‘And then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it.’ For a great standard has suddenly unfurled on the lead ship. It bears the White Tree of Gondor, and the Crown and Seven Stars of Elendil ‘that no lord had borne for years beyond count.’

“Thus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isildur’s Heir, out of the Paths of the Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea.’ The Rohirrim rejoice with laughter and swords and the City with ‘a music of trumpets and a ringing of bells.’ The hosts of Mordor are confounded with this sudden turn of fate, and it ‘seems a great wizardy’ that their own ships should come filled with their foes. The tides (quite literally) have turned against them.

From the east come the knight of Dol Amroth, from the south comes Eomer. And from the ships leap Legolas, and Gimli, and Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond. The dour-handed band of Rangers from the North lead ‘a great valour’ of the folk of the fiefs of the coastlands of the South, including men of the West that had been enslaved on the ships and were now freed. ‘But before all went Aragorn with the Flame of the West, Anduril like a fire new-kindled, Narsil re-forged as deadly as of old; and upon his brow was the Star of Elendil.’

At length Aragorn and Eomer meet in the midst of the fighting, and they pause a moment, each glad to see the other. Aragorn reminds Eomer that he told him at the Hornburg they would meet again, ‘though all the hosts of Mordor lay between.’ They clasp hands, and Eomer says his aid was never more welcome, or more timely. ‘Much loss and much sorrow has befallen us.’

‘Then let us avenge it, ere we speak of it!’ said Aragorn, and they ride back to battle together.

There is still plenty of hard fighting ahead;  ‘the Southrons were bold men and grim, and fierce in despair; and the Easterlings were strong and war-hardened and asked for no quarter.’  They gather and rally all for hours, but by the red end of the day the fields are drenched with blood. ‘[N]ot one living foe was left within the circuit of the Rammas [wall]. All were slain save those who fled to die, or to drown in the red foam of the River. Few ever came eastward to Morgul or Mordor, and to the land of the Haradrim came only a tale from far off: a rumor of the wrath and terror of Gondor.’

Aragorn and Eomer and Imrahil ride back to the City, weary but unscathed. Such was their skill and strength. ‘But many others were hurt or maimed or dead upon the field.’ Some named are Forlong, hewed with axes, Duilin and his brother Derufin, trampled by mumakil; Hirluin, Grimbold, Grimslade, and Halbarad the Ranger from the North. Long afterwards a ‘maker’ of Rohan lists them in his song of the [burial] Mounds of Mundburg [Gondor], along with Theoden, Harding, Guthlaf, Dunhere, Deorwine, Herefara, Herubrand, Horn, and Fastred.

Death at the morning and day’s ending

lords took and lowly. Long now they sleep

Under grass in Gondor by the Great River.

Notes

Hurin and Gothmog are both names from the original material of the Silmarillion, Hurin a great chieftain of men and Gothmog the Lord of the Balrogs. There has been some speculation of who or what Gothmog here was: a lesser ringwraith (as per the 1977 wargame); an Orc as per the Jackson films; or a human, perhaps a Black Numenorean. Nobody is sure.

There are many historical notes behind much of this battle: the fear of horses of elephants in battle was remarked on in Greek and Roman texts; a dromund is a ship used in medieval times ‘propelled by many oars with a single mast and a square sail’; Eomer tosses up his sword and catches it as the Norman minstrel Taillefer did at the Battle of Hastings. Much of this section is recounted in the Anglo-Saxon manner and using such verse forms; the end recalls the Homeric ‘Catalog of Ships’ where a list of names is recounted to demonstrate verisimilitude and to suggest details uncountable.

The Elendilmir or Star of Elendil is not the original; that was lost with Isildur when he was killed at the Gladden Fields. Aragorn wore the replacement that was made in Rivendell for Valandil and the heirs of Isildur. The original was found later locked in a secret vault in Orthanc; apparently Saruman had found it along with the chain Isildur had kept the Ring on.

Aragorn’s standard was made by Arwen ‘with jewels and silver’ and was the mysterious wrapped staff that Halbarad handed over to Aragorn and that was unfurled at the Stone of Erech to prove to the Dead Men his claims.

Eomer mentions that he did not know Aragorn was ‘fore-sighted’ when he said they would meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor stood between. Whether this was because of his plans and wisdom or because he really had some spiritual power, is ambiguous.

 

The Lord of the Rings: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields (Part 3)

After the passing of the Lord of the Nazgul Merry stands in the middle of the battlefield, ‘blinking like an owl in the daylight,’ blinded by tears. The motionless Eowyn lies near him, and there is King Theoden, ‘fallen in the midst of his glory.’ His horse Snowmane has rolled off him it its death throes; his faithful horse has been his ‘bane’, the instrument of his death.

Merry lifts the King’s hand to kiss it, and suddenly Theoden opens his eyes. He speaks in a quiet, clear voice. He knows he is dying.

‘My body is broken. I go to my fathers. And even in their mighty company I shall not be ashamed. I felled the black serpent [the herald and champion of the Easterlings]. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!’

Merry begs his pardon for disobeying his orders and following him to battle. Theoden smiles and forgives him: ‘Great heart will not be denied.’ He bids the noble Hobbit to smoke his pipe in peace and remember Theoden, for he shall never keep his promise to sit and listen to his herb-lore. He asks for Eomer; he must be king after Theoden. And he wants to send word by him to Eowyn, whom he shall never see again.

Merry begins to try to tell him that she is nearby, but he is interrupted by a sudden clamor and horns blowing all around them.  ‘[H]e had forgotten the war, and all the world beside, and many hours it seemed since the king rode to his fall, though in truth it was only a little while.’ Northward comes Eomer riding leading the Rohirrim, while a force issues out of Gondor led by the Prince of Dol Amroth, and from the south come the legions of Morgul, led by a line of horsemen of Harad with footmen behind them, and then mumakil shouldering bristling war-towers. It seems the battle will soon meet near where the hobbit stands. He wonders vaguely where Gandalf is. Couldn’t he have saved the king and Eowyn?

At that moment Eomer rides up with knights of the king’s household, who have mastered their horses which fled before the terror of the Nazgul. They look in wonder at the slain fell beast and the ruin around them. Eomer leaps from his horse and stands in silence at Theoden’s side, overcome with grief and dismay.  One of the knights lifts the king’s standard from the hand of the dead Guthlaf, king’s banner bearer. Slowly Theoden opens his eyes, and gestures that the banner be given to Eomer in token of his kingship. He hails him as King of the Mark and bids him ride to victory, and to tell Eowyn farewell from him.

‘And so he died, and knew not that Eowyn laid near him. And those who stood by wept, crying: Theoden King! Theoden King!’

‘But Eomer said to them:

‘Mourn not overmuch! Mighty was the fallen,

meet was his ending. When his mound is raised,

women then shall weep. War now calls us!’

But he himself is weeping. He bids them carry Theoden's body from the battlefield to keep it from being trampled, and also to take the men who have fallen around him. Suddenly he sees Eowyn and recognizes his fallen sister. His face goes deathly white. What is she doing here, slain? He goes deadly quiet, fury rise in him, and then ‘a fey mood took him.’

‘Eowyn, Eowyn!’ he cried at last. ‘Eowyn, how came you here? What madness or devilry is this? Death, death, death! Death take us all!’

He leaps to his saddle and spurs forward, blowing a hornblast and crying in a clear voice, ‘Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world’s ending!’ The Rohirrim answer him with Death! In one loud and terrible voice, and they speed like a roaring tide southward to battle.

And still Merry stands blinking with tears, seemingly unheeded by all. He finally stoops to pick up the green shield that Eowyn had given him and slings it on his back. He looks for his sword that fell when he struck his blow to the Nazgul; his arm had gone numb with contact with that deadly flesh. ‘And behold! There lay his weapon, but the blade was smoking like a dry branch that has been thrust in a fire; and as he watched it, it writhed and withered and was consumed.’

‘So passed the sword of the Barrow-downs, work of Westernesse. But glad would he have been to know its fate who wrought it slowly long ago in the North-kingdom when the Dunedain were young, and chief among their foes was the dread realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king. No other blade, not though mightier hands had wielded it, would have dealt that foe a wound so bitter, cleaving the undead flesh, breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will.’

Men raise Theoden and Eowyn, ‘laying cloaks upon spear-truncheons’ on a makeshift stretcher. They have to leave seven others of the household on the field, surrounded by spears to mark them. They move the King’s horse Snowmane aside as well, and in time he has his own grave raised where he fell, with a stone engraved with an epitaph. But they burn the carcase of the fell beast, ‘and ever black and bare was the ground where the beast was burned.’

Merry follows behind the bearers and thinks no more of the battle. A great rain from the Sea starts to fall ‘and it seems that all things wept for Theoden and Eowyn.’ The entourage is suddenly met by a van of men from Gondor, led by the Prince of Dol Amroth, who pulls up beside them to see what they do. They reply that they bear Theoden who has fallen, but that Eomer now rides as king on the battlefield. The prince dismounts his horse to pay respect to the fallen king, and then is amazed that they also bear a woman.

He examines her, bending closer to observe her pale cold beauty, and takes her hand.  He suddenly cries aloud, asking the Rohirrim if they have no leeches [healers] among them. She is hurt, deadly so perhaps, but she still lives. ‘And he held the bright-burnished vambrace that was upon his arm before her cold lips, and behold! a little mist was laid on it hardly to be seen.’

Haste is now needed if she is to be saved, and the Prince sends to the City for aid. ‘But bowing low to the fallen, bade them farewell, and mounting rode away to battle.’

Notes

Part of Eomer’s despair is that he seems to be the last of his family, the last of the House of Eorl. And of course he thought Eowyn was safely back in Rohan. His mood is described again as ‘fey,’ doom-laden to the point of battle frenzy.

Aragorn said long ago after the attack on Weathertop, in reference to Frodo’s Barrow-blade, that ‘all blades perish that pierce that dreadful king.’ Merry seems to have dealt a more fatal blow. Its maker would have been glad ‘to know its fate’, to finally fulfill its purpose after centuries of laying in wait.

A vambrance is armor for the forearm. The episode recalls the scene in King Lear where Lear checks Cordelia’s breath in hope she is still alive: ‘Lend me a looking glass. If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, why then she lives.’

The grave of Snowmane is eventually marked by a howe, or burial mound, with a poem on the stone:

Faithful servant yet master’s bane,

Lightfoot’s foal, swift Snowmane. 

 

"I'll Mace You Good!": Another Incorrect Use of the Term

Yesterday I failed to make a certain note. This was about the Lord of the Nazgul’s weapon, a mace. Many people will think of the overblown thing from the Jackson film, a prop that Jackson admittedly made bigger and bigger for cinematic effect. It was invented for the films. Technically it is not a mace, but a weird chimera of a weapon that I have seen dubbed a mace flail. In most illustrations made before the movies, it is depicted in a more traditional manner. As I noted in my other blog, many years ago:

“The mace was a club-like weapon popular through many centuries and in many countries. Shapes, sizes, and patterns varied a great deal, but mostly had a long handle with a flanged, knobbed, or spiked head. They were popular with churchmen or clerics of military bent, because they were crushing or bruising weapons, and thus circumvented the scriptural ban on the shedding of blood by the sword.

“The flail, as a weapon, was based on the agricultural instrument for threshing corn, and thus favored by lower orders. This devastating weapon, consisting at its simplest as a weighted end suspended from a handle by a chain or leather strip, besides landing painful blows, could strike around shields or entangle the enemy's weapon. Sometimes called, in grim humor, a 'holy water sprinkler.' It could have several heads which made it more deadly but harder to handle.

“The morningstar (or 'morgenstern') was a spiked ball that could be used as the end of a mace or as the weight on the end of a flail. So-called because of its resemblance to a star.”

--Power of Babel, Jan.1, 2013

 

The Lord of the Rings: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields (Part 2)

‘But lo! Suddenly in the midst of the glory of the king his golden shield was dimmed. The new morning was blotted from the sky. Dark fell about him. Horses reared and screamed. Men cast from the saddle lay grovelling on the ground.’

Theoden tries to rally his men, telling them to fear no darkness, but his horse Snowmane rears up high fighting the air, then falls screaming, an arrow in his side. Theoden falls beneath him.

The dark shadow descends. It is a winged creature, bigger than any bird, with naked skin and webbed wings. ‘A creature of an older world maybe it was’, that Sauron took, feeding it with ‘fell meats’ and giving it to his servant to ride. It lands and fastens on Snowmane with its claws.

The Lord of the Nazgul rides upon it, clothed in black with a crown of steel, with nothing between but a ‘deadly gleam of eyes.’ He wields a great black mace. He has returned to the air and come before the darkness can fail, ‘turning hope to despair, and victory to death.’

Theoden’s knights are either slain or their horses, mad with fear, have taken them away. But Dernhelm and Merry are still there by the King; their horse Windfola had thrown them in his terror over the Nazgul descending upon them. But Dernhelm stands, ‘faithful beyond fear,’ and will not be driven away. But the knight weeps, having loved Theoden like a father. Merry crawls along like a dazed beast, blind and sick with horror. He cannot even open his eyes, though his heart reminds him that he, too, swore that Theoden would be like a father to him.

Out of the darkness Merry hears Dernhelm speaking, in a strangely changed voice.

‘Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, lord of carrion! Leave the dead in peace!’

‘A cold voice answered: ‘Come not between the Nazgul and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.’

Dernhelm is not intimidated; the ringing of a sword as the weapon is drawn, and the warrior declares ‘I will hinder [you], if I may.’ The Nazgul calls him a fool: ‘No living man may hinder me!’

Dernhelm laughs, and with a clear voice proclaims, ‘But no living man am I! You look upon a woman. Eowyn am I, Eomund’s daughter. You stand between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if you be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite you, if you touch him.’

The fell beast screams and the Nazgul pauses as if in doubt, and Merry opens his eyes in astonishment. A few paces before him is the winged beast with the Lord of the Nazgul looming like a shadow above it. Eowyn stands revealed standing in defiance a little to his left, her helm off and her hair flowing like pale gold. Merry’s mind flashes on the look on ‘Derhelm’s’ face as they rode from Dunharrow: the face of one with no hope, seeking death. ‘The slow-kindled courage of his race awoke.’ He is gripped with the determination she shall not die alone. He must try to help her. He tries to slowly crawl towards the Witch-King, hoping the wraith will not turn his deadly gaze upon him. But the wraith is intent on Eowyn and heeds the hobbit ‘no more than a worm in the mud.’

The fell beast screams and beats its wings, stirring up a foul air. It leaps toward Eowyn, striking with beak and claw. Eowyn does not blench. With one swift stroke she cuts off the thing’s head and it falls with beating wings into a wreck. With its collapse the darkness passes and the light of the sunrise shines about Eowyn.  

But the Black Rider rises up from the ruin of his steed, and towers threatening over the maiden. With a venomous cry of hatred he brings his mace down and shatters Eowyn’s shield. The shield falls in pieces, and she falls to her knees, her arm broken. The wraith’s eyes glitter and he raises his mace for another stroke.

But suddenly he stumbles forward with a cry of bitter pain. His mace misses Eowyn, burying itself into the ground. Merry’s crawling has finally brought him up to the Black Captain and he’s stabbed him from behind, ‘piercing the sinew behind his mighty knee.’ Merry cries out Eowyn’s name, and she rallies, with her last strength driving her sword between the wraith’s crown and his shoulders.

‘The sword broke into many glittering shards. The crown rolled away with a clang. Eowyn fell forward upon her fallen foe. But lo! The mantle and hauberk were empty. Shapeless they lay now on the ground, torn and tumbled; and a cry went up into the shuddering air, and faded to a shrill wailing, passing with the wind, a voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of the world.’

Bits and Bobs

There has been much speculation about the ‘Fell Beast’ the Nazgul rides. It being called ‘a creature of an older world’ and its featherless webbed wings has put many readers in mind of a pterodactyl or pteranodon. In the Jackson movies it is rather dragonish, and I’ve heard many commentators refer to it and its brothers as ‘dragons’, which in the world of Middle-earth are totally different critters. In fact, it’s not even sure that the other Nazgul rode the same kind of creature that’s described here; it’s spoken of as a ‘last untimely brood’ that Sauron had fed and given to his servant (note the singular) as his steed. I know that in at least the rough drafts the wraiths steeds are sometimes called ‘black vultures,’ I suppose in contrast to the Great Eagles.

The fact that the gleam of the Lord’s eyes can be seen points, I think, to one of the properties of invisibility in Tolkien’s works. Things can be invisible, like the Nazgul’s ‘unseen sinews,’ but not the light that they put forth. This is a shown, if I remember rightly, when Elendil has to draw on his hood to dowse the light of the Elendilmir when he’s escaping wearing the Ring.

“Dernhelm,’ of course, means ‘helm of secrecy,’ and with her helmet off Eowyn is finally revealed. In the Jackson movies Merry twigs to her identity right away, but we can assume here that the hobbit, not expecting such a stratagem and being distracted with worry over the ride and coming battle, was thinking of other things. Her bravery is indeed great, being inspired by love for her uncle and the desire to do great deeds, but her recklessness is also being driven by her rejection by Aragorn: she is ‘seeking death.’ She mocks the Nazgul with the Rohirric term, ‘dwimmerlaik’ (work of sorcery). A sham, a cheat, no longer a man, a phantom, an empty thing.

The prophecy that the Witch-king cannot be killed by any living man was made by Glorfindel way back in the Second Age during the war with Angmar. Of course it echoes the prophecy in Macbeth, that he cannot be killed by any man of woman born, that is fulfilled when Macduff reveals he was ‘untimely ripped from his mother’s womb.’ The Lord of the Nazgul has been riding along on the assurance of this prophecy (he must have heard it somewhere, and puts credence in it), not considering the possible ambiguities in the statement. As it is, a woman and a hobbit together encompass his downfall.

And note that his threat to Eowyn is not that he will kill her, but will bear her away to ‘the houses of lamentation’, her flesh devoured and her mind left writhing under the gaze of Sauron. Compare Gorbag’s saying ‘[The Nazgul] will peel the body off of you as soon as look at you, and leave you all cold in the dark on the other side.’

·       Some have speculated that the Witch-King’s voice being ‘never heard in that age of the world again’ might imply that he could be back in another age. But it seems more to be a literary way of saying ‘never, ever again.’ The ring of the Nazgul that extended his life to an unnatural length, whether on his finger (and thus possibly left among his remains) or held by Sauron, would be destroyed when the One Ring is unmade. The Rankin/Bass The Return of the King, among its many other travesties, has the Lord of the Nazgul collapsing with the sound of a deflating balloon.

 

Tolkien Tuesday: Eowyn and the Witch-King

Today should have covered the encounter of Eowyn and the Witch-King, one of the most iconic scenes in all of The Lord of the Rings, perhaps second only to Gandalf and the Balrog. But frankly, I'm too tired. Looking back, I see that I have taken October, November, and December off from LOTR posting in the past, and I may just start that again now.  However, it's easy enough to leave an image archive for now, consisting mostly of art made free of the influence of the Jackson films (although some might have influenced them).  We have Michael Kaluta, Joan Wyatt, Frank Frazetta (his Eowyn's costume is not so 'dern'), the Brothers Hildebrandt, John Howe, and Ted Naismith. I may be taking a break now, but I hope to come back to it at least by the New Year.

The Lord of the Rings: The Battle of the Pelennor Fields (Part 1)

‘But it was no orc-chieftan or brigand that led the assault upon Gondor. The darkness was breaking too soon, before the date his Master had set for it: fortune had betrayed him for the moment, and the world had turned against him; victory was slipping from his grasp even as he stretched out his hand to seize it. But his arm was long. He was still in command, wielding great powers. King, Ringwraith, Lord of the Nazgul, he had many weapons. He left the Gate and vanished.’

The triumphant Theoden is now on the road to the Gate, less than a mile to the City. His impetus slows as he seeks new foes and his knights catch up with him, including the enigmatic Dernhelm, with Merry still clinging behind. The Rohirrim have overrun almost all of the northern half of Pelennor Fields; Elfhelm’s eored is among the siege engines, killing and driving the enemy into their own fire-pits. Orcs are fleeing toward the River ‘like herds before the hunters.’

But the siege is not yet lifted. There are still great numbers around the Gate and hosts unchallenged on the south part of the plain. Among them is a host of Haradrim horsemen gathered around their chieftain. This leader, seeing Theoden’s banner far ahead of his men, raises his own standard (black serpent on red) and charges the King. ‘… and the drawing of the scimitars of the Southrons was like a glitter of stars.’

Theoden does not wait but leads a charge right into their superior numbers. The ‘white fury’ of the Rohirrim burns the hotter and their skill is greater; ‘they clove through the Southrons like a fire-bolt in a forest.’ Theoden’s spear is broken in the assault as he kills the chieftan, but he sweeps out his sword. He strikes down the serpent standard of the enemy, and all who are left flee before his wrath.

Notes

It is interesting to note that the darkness is breaking before Sauron had set a time for it. It implies that the darkness is only a temporary measure, a tactic to sow fear and give cover to the hosts of Mordor. Eventually the darkness would have broken at the ‘date’ Sauron had set for it. One would imagine that it would have been an enormous drain of power.

The phrase that ‘fortune’ had betrayed him is also intriguing. Throughout the story the terms ‘luck’ or ‘fortune’ can be seen as veiled references to what has been called Providence, the will of God. Gandalf has often expressed his scorn of the idea of ‘mere luck’ or ‘chance, if chance you call it.’ There has been some speculation that Manwe, Lord of the Valar and Master of Winds, has sent this blast to scatter the darkness and bring other aid to the forces of the West. A speculation that would not have been likely before the publication of The Silmarillion.

This section uses a lot of similes: ‘like herds before hunters;’ ‘like a glitter of stars;’ ‘like a fire-bolt (lightning) in the forest.’ This gives one unfamiliar with battle an idea of the speed and sights of the field.

I was hoping to get a little farther today, but perhaps it’s just as well as we leave Theoden at his most glorious moment. It’s about to get pretty dark again.

 

The Lord of the Rings: The Ride of the Rohirrim (Part 4 and Last)

The Tale

It is night. The host of Rohan ride along the road on either side, and now turn southward along the side of Mindolluin. They can see the red glow of the assault on the distant Minas Tirith. They are getting close to the distant outer wall (Rammas) and it is not yet day.

King Theoden leads the way and Merry (who is riding with Dernhelm), notices the Rider is slowly leaving the company of Elfhelm to ride closer to the King until they are at the rear of his guard. Suddenly scouts approach the King to report.

There are fires all around Minas Tirith, with the foes swarming all about. But they seem concentrated on the assault, with few on the approaches to City, and those heedless with wanton destruction.

One of the scouts, Widfara, reminds Theoden of Ghan-buri-Ghan’s words. He too feels a change in the wind from the South, bearing a faint tang of the sea. The wind is turning. When they reach the wall, it will be dawn above the reeking pall. The morning, he concludes hopefully, will bring new things.

Theoden blesses him with the hope of long life, if he speaks truly. He issues his commands with a loud clear voice.

‘Now is the hour come, Riders of the Mark, sons of Eorl! Foes and fire are before you, and your homes far behind. Yet, though you fight upon an alien field, the glory that you reap there shall be your own forever. Oaths ye have taken: now fulfill them all, to lord and land and league of friendship!’

The men clash their spears on their shields in acknowledgement and Theoden give his order. He and Eomer shall lead an eored (company), with Dernhelm and Grimbold with eored on either side. All other companies shall follow as they can and strike where needed. No other plan can be made now, for they don’t know how things are on the field. ‘Forth now, and fear no darkness!’

They leave as quickly as they can; it is still dark, no matter what changes Widfara feels. Merry holds on behind Derhelm with one hand and tries to loosen his sword in its sheath. He remembers bitterly Theoden’s question what he would do in such a battle.  ‘Just this,’ he thought: ‘encumber a rider, and hope at best to stay in my seat and not be pounded to death by galloping hoofs!’

It's only a league to the out-walls, and there are brief cries as the few looting orcs there are surprised and swept away. At the ruin of the north-gate in the wall Theoden halts and the riders draw around him. Ten miles away they can see the great blaze around Minas Tirith surrounded by a great crescent of flame surrounding it, the outer line not a league away. Merry, gazing out upon it from behind Dernhelm, can see no hope of morning of feel any wind of change.

The host of Rohan moves silently spreading into the field of Gondor, like a tide breaching a dike, but the enemy doesn’t raise any alarms. It seems the Black Captain is too focused on the falling city to notice them yet. The King leads the host a little east to get past the fires and then they halt again.

Burning is in the air and ‘a very shadow of death.’ The horses are uneasy. Theoden sits on his horse Snowmane and gazes on the agony of Minas Tirith. He seems suddenly stricken by dread and doubt and weighed down by age. Merry feels horror and doubt settling on him.

‘They were too late! Too late was worse than never! Perhaps Theoden would quail, bow his old head, turn, slink away to hide in the hills.’

Then Merry feels it at last, a definite wind blowing from the south, breaking the pall of shadow and allowing a glimmer of light! But in the city there is a sudden flash like lightning, lighting up the white tower ‘like a glittering needle’ then closing in into darkness. A rolling boom comes over the field.

At the sound Theoden springs erect again. He cries in a loud voice, clearer than any there have ever heard.

‘Arise, arise, Riders of Theoden!

Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter!

spear shall be shaken, shield shall be splintered,

a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!

Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!’

He grabs a horn from Guthlaf his banner-bearer and sounds a blast that bursts the trumpet. All the horns of Rohan are lifted up, ‘like a storm upon the plain and a thunder in the mountains.’

Theoden springs forward and his banner, a white horse on a green field, flies in the wind, but he outpaces it. He outpaces all his men, even Eomer with ‘white horsetail on his helm' floating with his speed. The first eored roars like a wave breaking on the shore but Theoden cannot be overtaken.

‘Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Orome the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! It shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City.’

Bits and Bobs

Widfara = ‘wide-farer, far traveller.’

Guthlaf = ‘guth = battle + laf = leave’ or one who survives a battle, not someone who runs away

Orome = ‘the sound of horns blowing’. He was the Huntsman of the Valar (gods, more or less, not THE God). The battle may have been the first one after the Elves had awakened and Morgoth, the first Dark Lord, was taken to be imprisoned in Valinor.

Fey = Fey: fey • \FAY\ • adjective. 1 : marked by a foreboding of death or calamity 2 a : marked by an otherworldly air or attitude b : crazy, touched.” Fey is a Scottish word denoting something doomed or fated, and therefore partaking of a heedless nature, caring not for consequences.

The lightning and boom is obviously the breaking of the Gate of Gondor.

This is one of the most Old English parts of the book, from the battle-fury (berserk?) to the Anglo-Saxon meter of the verses. But, as Tom Shippey has pointed out, the Anglo-Saxons had no tradition of fighting en masse on horseback.

The lightning and boom is obviously the breaking of the Gate of Gondor.

Even the Peter Jackson films cannot not help but show the glory of the charge of the Rohirrim, deglamorizing of the joy of battle as they try to be. Don't get me wrong, I love the films, but they go far in their efforts to debunk martial heroism. Tolkien also shows the cost of war and such heroics later, but he does not deny the exhilaration of fighting in a good cause against terrible odds. 

You can't really summarize this part without very large direct quotations. It is a section that has a recording of Tolkien reading it aloud. Like a bard.