Lest we despair, Tolkien

It is tempting to dwell on Tolkien’s medieval side and go down the hobbit hole of his work and of what he would have read - Kalevala, Beowulf, Sir Orfeo and the list goes on – to try to get a glimpse, hoping for more of course, of that lost odd world where man wrote and passed on these grand stories of impossible quests, dragons and curses, and bejeweled the bones of saints and wrought rich monstrances for the Body of Christ who himself protagonized the eucatastrophe of a story. But that might lead one to miss an important aspect of Tolkien’s work, how well he bridges the gap between the medieval tradition he is drawing from and his modern readers, and how aware he is of modern sensibilities. Indeed, through this bridging of the old traditions to our time and his awareness of the struggles of modern men, Tolkien gives us a great gift: a reflection on suffering, death and, ultimately, hope. Starting with the story we all know, The Lord of the Rings, I will show how Tolkien’s awareness of modern sentiment informs his tale and invites the reader to reflect on suffering and death. 

We first consider Aragorn and Frodo, two heroes in their own right. Aragorn is the hero that stands tall above, quite literally, both hobbit and regular man. Coming from the shadows and with his half-elven ancestry, Aragorn is foreign. On the other hand, Frodo is not foreign to us. Frodo is the little man ‘alive in the films of Chaplin as he is in Chaucer’ that we can identify with. (T.C, p.124) What Tolkien does to these two heroes accommodates his tale for an age that can no longer stomach the supernatural and mythological very well. On one hand, although Aragorn reminds us of many earlier larger-than-life heroes via divers motifs – for example, from his superhuman ancestry, the likes of Sigurd fathered by Odin; from his time in obscurity and from his relationship with Narsil, Beowulf – Tolkien takes care that modern readers are not pushed away. He provides more realistic basis for Aragorn’s ancestry than that of his predecessors, for example Sigurd, who were fathered by gods. Aragorn’s ancestry is thus still noble and ‘immortal’, but ‘no god’s intervention, no magic, … or supernatural event’ are behind it; it’s rather that he is half-elven through the union of two natural races. (T.C, p.126) Creating Aragorn in a great lineage of heroes larger than oneself, Tolkien doesn’t forget to bridge the gap between our modern minds and the mythological where that divide would be too detrimental to his goal, ‘the realization of imagined wonder.’ (F.S, p.14) On the other hand, although Frodo is closer to us, Tolkien doesn’t leave it at that and ennobles him by linking him to mythological motifs. One of these is seen in Frodo’s relationship to Bilbo, the nephew-uncle motif present in Beowulf, where the nephew takes to conclusion something initiated by the uncle. And, perhaps more importantly, Frodo’s orphancy echoes that mysterious child motif seen in splendor in the story of Scyld, a.k.a Frodi, who brings prosperity. Creating Frodo as a common man, Tolkien ennobles both Frodo and the common man through the mythological associations and, specially, in his role as bringer of prosperity, although he himself doesn’t share in this prosperity. By giving mythological importance to Frodo, Tolkien thus raises us closer to Aragorn's greatness, who on his own was already made more believable. Also worth of notice is Tolkien’s modernization of the battle ‘against the offspring of the dark which ends for all in defeat.’ (Monsters, p.29) As Flieger describes it as it happens in TheLord of The Rings, ‘fighting those dark elements within himself which Gollum externalizes, Frodo fights the most insidious monster of all - and loses.’ (T.C, p.144) Rather than choosing a too-much-to-swallow of a dragon, Tolkien chose a struggle his modern audience would accept without a struggle. Frodo’s struggle and subsequent failure is all too much familiar, which together with the successful ‘realization of imagined wonder’ around him and his mythological importance as bringer of prosperity begs the practical-minded modern man to reconsider whether sacrifice is worthless after all. But how does Frodo bring prosperity if not by failing? It is not fair that Frodo should suffer! one could answer. Tolkien might well agree with this, but he would then point us to the gift of death.

In Tolkien’s legendarium death is central to both its stories and philosophy. It’s but through death and successive generations that the stories take place. Death is Eru’s gift to man. It’s malice that leads man to think otherwise. While elves are bound to this world to its end, man can escape the pains found here on earth by accepting death. Although it’s without guarantees, death releases man from his bondage to earth. In Numenor, those who didn’t willingly accept their deaths when the time came and postponed it were seen as doing wrong. The epitome of not accepting death can be seen in Ar Pharazon’s foolish search for immortality that led to the Downfall of Numenor. On the other hand, Aragorn accepts death. Indeed, his death recalls us of the Ars Moriendi, the instructions for a good Christian to die well. He rejects despair and gives away his earthly riches, in the crown of Gondor, to Eldarion. Tolkien’s thus illustrates the necessity to die well, to accept ‘hope without guarantees.’ (Letters, 237) To further this point, we look at the great philosophical debate of the Legendarium: Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth. Finrod, discussing the place of man’s mortality in Eru’s creation with Andreth, raises the point that man is in a constant restlessness in Arda: they ‘look at no thing for itself’ … Where are these other things?’ In further discussion, they reach that man has in this way a sort of vision of Eru’s plan. And questioned by Andreth whereto man should now go, ‘'What then is to be done now? … darkness lies before us, into which we stare in vain,’ Finrod proposes hope, and again, without guarantees. Tolkien expounds on the preciousness of dying well, without relinquishing hope. For man, death is in his nature, it’s foolish and perilous to fight it, all he can have is hope: hope in the One who gave man the gift of death.

Although we might be no Aragorn, hope is found in the fact that small hands can and do turn the wheels of the world as Elrond reminds us. In Frodo, Tolkien raises our littleness and our sacrifice to great worth. Suffering exists and one might incur in it even if ‘unfair’, but it’s far from pointless: Frodo’s breaking down gained great prosperity for Middle Earth. What Tolkien offers is not a remedy for our earthly sorrows, but hope. Indeed, hope without guarantees, but nonetheless: as our restlessness in Arda points us ever to an unreasonable joy beyond the confines of Ëa, may we delight in the ‘thought of regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness’ and hope that one day we are

                                        ‘Over death, over dread, over doom lifted

                                        Out of loss, out of life, unto long glory.’ (LOTR, Many Partings)

PT

Cited Work:
Zimbardo, Rose A., and Neil D. Isaacs. Understanding The lord of the rings : the best of Tolkien criticism. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2004

Tolkien, J. R. R., Humphrey Carpenter, and Christopher Tolkien. The letters of J.R.R. Tolkien. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1981.

Tolkien, J. R. R., Verlyn Flieger, and Douglas A. Anderson. Tolkien on fairy-stories. London: HarperCollinsPublishers, 2014.

Tolkien, J. R. R., and Christopher Tolkien. The monsters and the critics, and other essays. London: HarperCollins, 1997.