Re-reading Tolkien: Famous last words
Maybe it's a sign of how clueless I was when I first read The Lord of the Rings, but in that first reading I didn't really see Gandalf's death coming. When Gandalf just . . . vanished, I felt it like a punch in the gut.
That was probably a naïve reaction, wasn't it, because heroes can't begin to do their hero thing until their Wise Guardians have kicked the bucket or otherwise been removed from the scene. If, in your old age, it ever becomes clear to you that a young person of your acquaintance is a Hero of some kind, my advice would be this: sell your condo, give away your cats, and go on a lengthy bicycling tour of Asia. And don't leave a forwarding address. From Merlin to Obi-wan Kenobi to Dumbledore, Wise Guardians have the life expectancy of a lemming on an express bus to the beach.
So: alert readers will realize that Gandalf's death (however temporary) is part of his job description. But the death isn't only a structural necessity hauled out of Ye Olde Bagge of Mythological Conventions. In the Moria chapters leading up to it, Tolkien does everything in his power to make us feel Gandalf's death as a horrible personal loss for almost all the characters. Perhaps Gandalf is such a moving and engaging variation on the Wise Guardian theme because he seems so human, both to readers and to everyone around him. He can battle wargs, and he literally serves as a light in dark places in Moria, but he's also vulnerable, and open about his vulnerability. He's uncertain. He makes mistakes. He gets tired. He's snarky. He even has a smoking problem.
But all this only helps Gandalf be the sort of guide who inspires not just awe (as Saruman might have done before he switched teams) but love. He so obviously cares about the Fellowship, each and every one of them, as people -- cares not in a fuzzy teddy-bear way, but in the sharply acerbic way of someone who pays other people the supreme and somewhat uncomfortable compliment of attending very closely to who and what they are.
One way to show just how successfully Gandalf did this is to is to consider the last lines of dialogue he speaks to or about each of the hobbits -- for the sake of space, I'll stick to hobbits -- before his death. Of course, the journey through Moria took quite some time, and if Tolkien had been writing some bizarre Joycean experiment reporting every minute of the journey, we'd have to assume that Gandalf said a lot of things like "look out for that rock, you fool!" But the following are the last lines to or about each hobbit that Tolkien -- who put every bit of his narrative to good characterization purposes -- actually reports:
To Sam: "There, Sam! He [Bill] will have quite as much chance of escaping wolves and getting home as we have."
To Merry: "I was wrong after all," said Gandalf, 'and Gimli too. Merry, of all people, was on the right track."
To Pippin: "Get into a corner and have a sleep, my lad," he said in a kindly tone. "You want to sleep, I expect. I cannot get a wink, so I may as well do the watching."
To Frodo: "You take after Bilbo," said Gandalf. "There is more about you than meets the eye, as I said of him long ago."
Each interchange tells us something important about both Gandalf and the hobbit concerned.
To Sam: "There, Sam! He [Bill the pony] will have quite as much chance of escaping wolves and getting home as we have."
I'm cheating a bit here, because Gandalf's last direct words to Sam are actually a long answer to Sam's question about whether gold and jewels are still lying about in Moria. That later interchange about Moria is intriguing, even though Gandalf is really talking to the entire group and not just to Sam there. Gandalf is in his standard guide mode; he's giving the group information. What makes the passage particularly Gandalfian, though (to coin a phrase) is that Sam didn't even ask Gandalf for this information: he asked Gimli, after Gimli sang his song about Moria. Sam loves the song, and wants to know more, but Gimli is too grief-stricken to answer. Gandalf does answer, however, and that's significant. Gandalf is, and has always been, someone who has been willing to take the time to answer a hobbit's questions -- particularly when that hobbit is showing interest not just in jewels but in another culture's songs and tales, as Sam does here.
But Gandalf also understands and values ALL of Sam's impulses, not just his attraction to tales. That comprehensive understanding is what we see when Gandalf talks to Sam one-on-one about Bill the Pony. It's Gandalf who tells Sam that they simply must leave Bill behind at the gate of Moria, and he even says that Sam will have to choose between Bill and his master.
Some readers understand Gandalf's warning in a way that isn't very complimentary to Sam at all: how, they ask, could Sam be genuinely torn between Frodo and a pony? What kind of a clueless wonder is he? Well, when the actual moment of choice comes, it happens very fast and Sam's reaction is instantaneous. I think Sam comes off very well for a hobbit who has never before faced a many-tentacled monster with an agenda. The Watcher in the Water pops up; Bill bolts; Sam runs after him -- but then he hears Frodo's cry, and of course Sam immediately turns around and rescues Frodo instead, hacking at one of the Watcher's tentacles until the Watcher lets go, and then dragging Frodo away before any of the bigger, stronger characters have time to react.
Yay Sam! So yes, he's committed to Frodo, but that doesn't mean Gandalf's warning that Sam will have to choose is unnecessary. Gandalf understands that Sam is and always has been torn in two: torn not just between Bill and Frodo but between what they represent. He's torn between his commitment to the earth (ponies, gardens, anything in his care) and his commitment to the stars (Frodo, anything Elvish).
That's a pretty profound conflict, one that Sam never resolves within the confines of LotR proper. In the end Frodo has to choose for him by leaving Middle-earth altogether; as far as I know, this rapid-fire little action scene is the first place in the narrative where Sam has to make this choice by himself. He chooses Frodo, but it still hurts -- and Gandalf knew that it would, which is why he took the time to assure Sam that Bill had as good a chance as any of them. He understands Sam's conflict well enough to take it seriously. Far from seeing this conflict as something that disqualifies Sam from the quest, Gandalf accepted it from moment one. Perhaps Gandalf suspected that Frodo would need someone so deeply tied to the Shire that he could remember it even in Mordor when Frodo no longer could.
To Merry: "I was wrong after all," said Gandalf, 'and Gimli too. Merry, of all people, was on the right track."
I have less to say about Merry because Merry appears less often in these chapters than any of the other hobbits. Obviously that situation will not last for long, though, and what we do see of Merry is fascinating. At one point, both he and Pippin barge in to a narrow dark room, only to be pushed back by Gandalf, who discovers that the darkness concealed an open pit. Once again, Gandalf's in guide mode there, saving the his charges from doing something rash, and in a chilling moment Aragorn tells Merry that he should take advantage of his guide while he still has one.
I find it interesting that Aragorn says this rather than Gandalf. Gandalf's actual last words to (or about) Merry and Merry alone are the ones quoted above, and they suggest almost the opposite. Aragorn encourages Merry to rely on his guide. But Gandalf acknowledges that Merry's perceptions are worth something: Merry was on the right track about the inscription on the gate of Moria while Gandalf was not.
And that, I think, is the most important thing that Gandalf can do for Merry over the long term: nourish his independence. Merry's most important choices will involve trusting his own judgment -- even when he is directly ordered by a king (Theoden) to stay behind and do as he's told. If Merry had taken Aragorn's advice (listen to your guide) rather than Gandalf's (sometimes even you are on the right track), Eowyn would have died at the hands of the Witch-King. Gandalf's acknowledgment of Merry's value is snarky, but it's real, and Merry is smart enough to understand this and pay attention.
To Pippin: "Get into a corner and have a sleep, my lad," he said in a kindly tone. "You want to sleep, I expect. I cannot get a wink, so I may as well do the watching."
I love this bit. Gandalf says this after Pippin has done something almost unforgivable: out of a mysterious compulsion he does not understand, Pippin tossed a stone down a well and quite possibly alerted someone or something to the Fellowship's presence. Thoroughly annoyed ("Fool of a Took!"), Gandalf gives Pippin first watch -- but then changes his mind, partly because he takes pity on Pippin and partly because he really is too worried to sleep.
I love how vulnerable Gandalf is here. Wizard insomnia! Who woulda thunk! He even admits that he needs to smoke his pipe! But it's the kindness, the forgiveness, that Pippin most needs at this point. Pippin and Gandalf will go through a more serious version of this scene later in the trilogy: Pippin will feel an inexplicable attraction to the Palantir, succumb, and then be forgiven. You have to assume that an interaction important enough to happen twice must have some significance, and I think this does: Pippin is someone who has experienced both the pull of darkness and what it's like to be forgiven for this flaw. And Gandalf is a wizard who understands that anyone can succumb to the pull of darkness, and that you don't, can't, give up prematurely on those who do.
To me this seems like the perfect background for a hobbit who is going to have to deal with Denethor and do all he can to save Denethor from himself. Denethor takes Pippin on for many reasons, but one of them is perverse amusement at what he believes is an amusing mismatch between a comic little hobbit and his own dark, brooding self. He's wrong. Pippin knows darkness by that time, and Gandalf teaches him (repeatedly) that it's possible to be pulled back from the brink of it and welcomed into the fold of people who are worth sympathy and consideration.
To Frodo: "You take after Bilbo," said Gandalf. "There is more about you than meets the eye, as I said of him long ago."
I guess I have even less to say about Frodo, not because Frodo doesn't show up in these chapters, but because Gandalf's last line to him is so perfect that any elaboration seems superfluous. Oh, on one level, the remark might be about Bilbo's mithril shirt, but there's far more to it than that. Frodo's central concern over the course of the story is endurance: is it possible for him to carry out the quest that inexplicably has fallen to him? This is Gandalf's answer. Gandalf has faith in Frodo, and he communicates this faith in the way a hobbit can understand best: he tells Frodo that Frodo takes after the hobbit he loves most in the world. In hobbit terms one of the highest compliments that you can be paid is to hear that you are a good and worthy heir. Frodo is, and Gandalf's last gift to him before Frodo completes his quest is to reassure him of this fact.
So: Sam is bound to the earth; Merry doesn't follow orders; Pippin has a fatal attraction to the dark; Frodo is just plain terrified. Unpromising material? Probably. No doubt that's what Saruman would say. But what emerges for me from these lines of Gandalf's is a curious combination of supreme perceptiveness and supreme optimism. Gandalf sees the whole person, warts and all, and still believes they can accomplish something. Perhaps his last words to the Fellowship as a whole are best understood in this light. "Fly, you fools!" They're fools, yes. But they should still keep going, and Gandalf's willing to die to help them do it.
That was probably a naïve reaction, wasn't it, because heroes can't begin to do their hero thing until their Wise Guardians have kicked the bucket or otherwise been removed from the scene. If, in your old age, it ever becomes clear to you that a young person of your acquaintance is a Hero of some kind, my advice would be this: sell your condo, give away your cats, and go on a lengthy bicycling tour of Asia. And don't leave a forwarding address. From Merlin to Obi-wan Kenobi to Dumbledore, Wise Guardians have the life expectancy of a lemming on an express bus to the beach.
So: alert readers will realize that Gandalf's death (however temporary) is part of his job description. But the death isn't only a structural necessity hauled out of Ye Olde Bagge of Mythological Conventions. In the Moria chapters leading up to it, Tolkien does everything in his power to make us feel Gandalf's death as a horrible personal loss for almost all the characters. Perhaps Gandalf is such a moving and engaging variation on the Wise Guardian theme because he seems so human, both to readers and to everyone around him. He can battle wargs, and he literally serves as a light in dark places in Moria, but he's also vulnerable, and open about his vulnerability. He's uncertain. He makes mistakes. He gets tired. He's snarky. He even has a smoking problem.
But all this only helps Gandalf be the sort of guide who inspires not just awe (as Saruman might have done before he switched teams) but love. He so obviously cares about the Fellowship, each and every one of them, as people -- cares not in a fuzzy teddy-bear way, but in the sharply acerbic way of someone who pays other people the supreme and somewhat uncomfortable compliment of attending very closely to who and what they are.
One way to show just how successfully Gandalf did this is to is to consider the last lines of dialogue he speaks to or about each of the hobbits -- for the sake of space, I'll stick to hobbits -- before his death. Of course, the journey through Moria took quite some time, and if Tolkien had been writing some bizarre Joycean experiment reporting every minute of the journey, we'd have to assume that Gandalf said a lot of things like "look out for that rock, you fool!" But the following are the last lines to or about each hobbit that Tolkien -- who put every bit of his narrative to good characterization purposes -- actually reports:
To Sam: "There, Sam! He [Bill] will have quite as much chance of escaping wolves and getting home as we have."
To Merry: "I was wrong after all," said Gandalf, 'and Gimli too. Merry, of all people, was on the right track."
To Pippin: "Get into a corner and have a sleep, my lad," he said in a kindly tone. "You want to sleep, I expect. I cannot get a wink, so I may as well do the watching."
To Frodo: "You take after Bilbo," said Gandalf. "There is more about you than meets the eye, as I said of him long ago."
Each interchange tells us something important about both Gandalf and the hobbit concerned.
To Sam: "There, Sam! He [Bill the pony] will have quite as much chance of escaping wolves and getting home as we have."
I'm cheating a bit here, because Gandalf's last direct words to Sam are actually a long answer to Sam's question about whether gold and jewels are still lying about in Moria. That later interchange about Moria is intriguing, even though Gandalf is really talking to the entire group and not just to Sam there. Gandalf is in his standard guide mode; he's giving the group information. What makes the passage particularly Gandalfian, though (to coin a phrase) is that Sam didn't even ask Gandalf for this information: he asked Gimli, after Gimli sang his song about Moria. Sam loves the song, and wants to know more, but Gimli is too grief-stricken to answer. Gandalf does answer, however, and that's significant. Gandalf is, and has always been, someone who has been willing to take the time to answer a hobbit's questions -- particularly when that hobbit is showing interest not just in jewels but in another culture's songs and tales, as Sam does here.
But Gandalf also understands and values ALL of Sam's impulses, not just his attraction to tales. That comprehensive understanding is what we see when Gandalf talks to Sam one-on-one about Bill the Pony. It's Gandalf who tells Sam that they simply must leave Bill behind at the gate of Moria, and he even says that Sam will have to choose between Bill and his master.
Some readers understand Gandalf's warning in a way that isn't very complimentary to Sam at all: how, they ask, could Sam be genuinely torn between Frodo and a pony? What kind of a clueless wonder is he? Well, when the actual moment of choice comes, it happens very fast and Sam's reaction is instantaneous. I think Sam comes off very well for a hobbit who has never before faced a many-tentacled monster with an agenda. The Watcher in the Water pops up; Bill bolts; Sam runs after him -- but then he hears Frodo's cry, and of course Sam immediately turns around and rescues Frodo instead, hacking at one of the Watcher's tentacles until the Watcher lets go, and then dragging Frodo away before any of the bigger, stronger characters have time to react.
Yay Sam! So yes, he's committed to Frodo, but that doesn't mean Gandalf's warning that Sam will have to choose is unnecessary. Gandalf understands that Sam is and always has been torn in two: torn not just between Bill and Frodo but between what they represent. He's torn between his commitment to the earth (ponies, gardens, anything in his care) and his commitment to the stars (Frodo, anything Elvish).
That's a pretty profound conflict, one that Sam never resolves within the confines of LotR proper. In the end Frodo has to choose for him by leaving Middle-earth altogether; as far as I know, this rapid-fire little action scene is the first place in the narrative where Sam has to make this choice by himself. He chooses Frodo, but it still hurts -- and Gandalf knew that it would, which is why he took the time to assure Sam that Bill had as good a chance as any of them. He understands Sam's conflict well enough to take it seriously. Far from seeing this conflict as something that disqualifies Sam from the quest, Gandalf accepted it from moment one. Perhaps Gandalf suspected that Frodo would need someone so deeply tied to the Shire that he could remember it even in Mordor when Frodo no longer could.
To Merry: "I was wrong after all," said Gandalf, 'and Gimli too. Merry, of all people, was on the right track."
I have less to say about Merry because Merry appears less often in these chapters than any of the other hobbits. Obviously that situation will not last for long, though, and what we do see of Merry is fascinating. At one point, both he and Pippin barge in to a narrow dark room, only to be pushed back by Gandalf, who discovers that the darkness concealed an open pit. Once again, Gandalf's in guide mode there, saving the his charges from doing something rash, and in a chilling moment Aragorn tells Merry that he should take advantage of his guide while he still has one.
I find it interesting that Aragorn says this rather than Gandalf. Gandalf's actual last words to (or about) Merry and Merry alone are the ones quoted above, and they suggest almost the opposite. Aragorn encourages Merry to rely on his guide. But Gandalf acknowledges that Merry's perceptions are worth something: Merry was on the right track about the inscription on the gate of Moria while Gandalf was not.
And that, I think, is the most important thing that Gandalf can do for Merry over the long term: nourish his independence. Merry's most important choices will involve trusting his own judgment -- even when he is directly ordered by a king (Theoden) to stay behind and do as he's told. If Merry had taken Aragorn's advice (listen to your guide) rather than Gandalf's (sometimes even you are on the right track), Eowyn would have died at the hands of the Witch-King. Gandalf's acknowledgment of Merry's value is snarky, but it's real, and Merry is smart enough to understand this and pay attention.
To Pippin: "Get into a corner and have a sleep, my lad," he said in a kindly tone. "You want to sleep, I expect. I cannot get a wink, so I may as well do the watching."
I love this bit. Gandalf says this after Pippin has done something almost unforgivable: out of a mysterious compulsion he does not understand, Pippin tossed a stone down a well and quite possibly alerted someone or something to the Fellowship's presence. Thoroughly annoyed ("Fool of a Took!"), Gandalf gives Pippin first watch -- but then changes his mind, partly because he takes pity on Pippin and partly because he really is too worried to sleep.
I love how vulnerable Gandalf is here. Wizard insomnia! Who woulda thunk! He even admits that he needs to smoke his pipe! But it's the kindness, the forgiveness, that Pippin most needs at this point. Pippin and Gandalf will go through a more serious version of this scene later in the trilogy: Pippin will feel an inexplicable attraction to the Palantir, succumb, and then be forgiven. You have to assume that an interaction important enough to happen twice must have some significance, and I think this does: Pippin is someone who has experienced both the pull of darkness and what it's like to be forgiven for this flaw. And Gandalf is a wizard who understands that anyone can succumb to the pull of darkness, and that you don't, can't, give up prematurely on those who do.
To me this seems like the perfect background for a hobbit who is going to have to deal with Denethor and do all he can to save Denethor from himself. Denethor takes Pippin on for many reasons, but one of them is perverse amusement at what he believes is an amusing mismatch between a comic little hobbit and his own dark, brooding self. He's wrong. Pippin knows darkness by that time, and Gandalf teaches him (repeatedly) that it's possible to be pulled back from the brink of it and welcomed into the fold of people who are worth sympathy and consideration.
To Frodo: "You take after Bilbo," said Gandalf. "There is more about you than meets the eye, as I said of him long ago."
I guess I have even less to say about Frodo, not because Frodo doesn't show up in these chapters, but because Gandalf's last line to him is so perfect that any elaboration seems superfluous. Oh, on one level, the remark might be about Bilbo's mithril shirt, but there's far more to it than that. Frodo's central concern over the course of the story is endurance: is it possible for him to carry out the quest that inexplicably has fallen to him? This is Gandalf's answer. Gandalf has faith in Frodo, and he communicates this faith in the way a hobbit can understand best: he tells Frodo that Frodo takes after the hobbit he loves most in the world. In hobbit terms one of the highest compliments that you can be paid is to hear that you are a good and worthy heir. Frodo is, and Gandalf's last gift to him before Frodo completes his quest is to reassure him of this fact.
So: Sam is bound to the earth; Merry doesn't follow orders; Pippin has a fatal attraction to the dark; Frodo is just plain terrified. Unpromising material? Probably. No doubt that's what Saruman would say. But what emerges for me from these lines of Gandalf's is a curious combination of supreme perceptiveness and supreme optimism. Gandalf sees the whole person, warts and all, and still believes they can accomplish something. Perhaps his last words to the Fellowship as a whole are best understood in this light. "Fly, you fools!" They're fools, yes. But they should still keep going, and Gandalf's willing to die to help them do it.