M E A N D E R I N G S
An Introduction
By Josh M. Shepherd

Various aspects of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings trilogy will be examined in this series of essays, Meanderings. What follows is a disclaimer to all writings in the series. To those more 'serious' Tolkien fans, I admit to simplifying some of the great Oxford writer's work. It is the only way a non-academic like myself can understand it.

Fantasy is for strange folk. Used correctly, the style takes an actual thing (say a ring) and gives it some peculiar power that it never could never realistically have. Or perhaps the writer makes up, with much intricacy, millennia of olden times that seem to culminate in a single moment.

One might indignantly say fantasy is "a load of 'what ifs' on the same level with Mary Poppins!" Yes, and no. Tolkien's work does depend on bending reality, using his mind for sheer enjoyment. Brilliance shines, however, in the way the professor's beliefs play out in the story (something P.L. Travers and Walt Disney can't say about Ms. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious).

Questions are raised in the subplots and asides. Suddenly one finds oneself considering the present state of mind and spirit-as in, "How do I respond to temptation?" or "Is my destiny far from me?" to reiterate the examples of a ring and absurdly involved histories. Muddle through the details of The Lord of the Rings and one will see lofty ideas made flesh and bone-or at least enjoy the birthday parties and sword fights.



Ponder "The Hobbit," endurance and God's will

This is second in a series of essays that will look at various aspects of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings fantasy trilogy.

It sounded like a mere change in the wind to those within the Mountain fortress. Then, a loud crash. Were their eyes outside, the landing of a red-golden winged creature would be visible, spouting flame and approaching the Mountain's gate: a dragon. Inhabitants of the fortress had no such foresight; a few were curious about the commotion. Opening the gate, they unwittingly gave entrance to the dragon.

Thousands died by fire; yet some knew a secret way out and rushed there. Five figures, singed and sooty, later emerged from a forest. Two bearded elders and three children had made it out-all five stout and stocky, resembling hobbits, only more burly and fierce. They were Dwarves.

Our study of Middle-earth continues with this prologue to a momentous Quest. Thorin Oakenshield, a dwarf, first recounted the tale above to the wizard Gandalf during an unexpected meeting. Dark thoughts had been on the wizard's mind, for whispers of a rising darkness had reached his ears. Gandalf knew that Mount Mordor's Sauron and this dragon in the Dwarves' Mountain were working in tandem; what if both struck at once? Even the Elves in Rivendell would not withstand the attack. It would be folly, the wizard knew, to muster an army and take back the Dwarves' home by force. It must be done discreetly.

Dwarves and mountains rolled around in Gandalf's head until a revelation hit. Was he not in the Shire to visit his old friend, a hobbit? The portly Bilbo Baggins is quite exemplary of his race, reminding one of everything comfortable and lazy they've ever seen. Somehow the musing of the wizard disregarded all this as he appeared at Bilbo's hobbit-hole door with the words, "I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging..." ("The Hobbit").

"There and Back Again," authored by Bilbo himself, tells what follows. In arriving at its purpose, this essay will abridge that work. Swayed by Gandalf's magic and the songs of 13 Dwarves (including Thorin) who arrive at his hole, Bilbo and 14 cohorts (the dwarves plus the wizard) set out to recover the Mountain. The company narrowly escapes capture by ugly, giant trolls and a stay at Rivendell assuages their long-felt hunger. Upon leaving, the Misty Mountains lie before them. A cave gives the journeyers a night's shelter from the cold.

Come sunrise, goblins emerge from a crack in the cave that becomes a passage. The rough adversaries soon bind the Dwarves and Bilbo. They drag their prey to the Great Goblin, who rages to discover their Quest. Suddenly, the light in the cavern goes out-courtesy of a certain wizard-separating Mr. Baggins from the others. The hopeless hobbit feels his way forward, picking up a ring that he finds. He comes to an underground lake occupied by a sea monster. An eccentric being under a disfiguring spell, Gollum engages the protagonist in a game of riddles. Winning the competition, Bilbo flees from his opponent, having the good fortune of putting on the ring he happened upon (which makes the wearer invisible). Goblin guards are confounded by the walking shadow, who exits at the other side of the Misty Mountains.

The tale is not all told, but a remark or two is in order. Either J.R.R. Tolkien doesn't know how to write anything but "chance" escapes from insufferable situations, or else some meaning hides therein. The latter must be assumed on token of the author's skilled diction. Indeed, morals about discernment, domination, mutual defense and the like could be uncovered with just the synopsis above.

Philippians 2:12b-13 best tells what aims we will investigate: "…work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who works in you both to will and to do for His good pleasure." Already, Bilbo has followed, withstood, served, fought and, on the whole, endured more than in all his life before. So is the Christian life no cakewalk either.

The hobbit would run many more miles before reaching the company's destination. He fights his dread and descends into darkness-to claim the Mountain from a dragon. On a bed of jewels the beast sleeps, but awakes to battle Bilbo with fire and words. The little hobbit comes near death multiple times, yet his gallantry is worn naturally, with much of his former self's uneasiness lingering. In fury, the dragon, the terror of the Mountain, abandons its fortress to feast on nearby Lake-town. The arrow of a guarding sentry flies straight, striking the ancient dragon, which meets death.

Men, goblins, and wargs (huge wolves) now vie for the unguarded riches that the Dwarves claim as theirs; the historic Battle of Five Armies ensues with a band of eagles and Gandalf eventually interceding on the behalf of Good. Though Thorin, the Mountain's heir, fell, his line is restored to their inheritance.

"But who wove the web? Did you plan all this then, Gandalf?" ("The Quest of Erebor"). These questions were put to the wizard ages after the Battle, and he pondered long before answering. "I do not know the answer. [In those days], I used in my waking mind only such means as were allowed to me, doing what lay to my hand according to such reasons as I had" ("The Quest of Erebor"). Even sages like Gandalf are not privy to everything that happens, nor how or why.

Indeed, some Lord-a caring One, intimately drawn to His creation-orchestrated all the key dealings, starting with the very encounter of Thorin and Gandalf. Yet this God didn't accomplish all single-handedly. (What "good pleasure" is in that?) Only pain and ultimate sacrifice can build character and ultimate joy. As our Father in Heaven cares about even our littlest matters, so should we give ourselves fully to the love and knowledge of Him.

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