The decision to begin this blog with Lord of the Rings was easy. No other book’s impact on my life can compare to the quintessential high fantasy epic. I’ve read through The Hobbit several times, and probably started Fellowship of the Ring five separate times in the past, each time getting interrupted by life in a way that I couldn’t give such an important book the undivided attention it deserves.
My mom bought me the handsome trilogy pictured in this post. This omnibus was a bit too handsome though, and I decided to pick up some cheap $8 paperbacks that I wouldn’t mind carrying and abusing. This way the handsome gray omnibus could be used as a reference book. I admit it may speak volumes about me as a person that I have two separate copies of this trilogy– one for reading, and one for reference.
I owe nearly all of my hobbies to J.R.R. Tolkien, including my love for reading. From the beginning, I decided I was going to take my time and step through each page with great care, savoring every bit of his famous Tolkien descriptions. I knew these deserved it, and I couldn’t be happier with how right I was in deciding to take my time.
Generally, cliches make me cringe. Every time a movie is made from a book, every human who has read the book seems to momentarily set aside their differences to take up arms in the coalition of “Yeah, But the Book Was Better.” Peter Jackson has enough Academy Awards for his trilogy to shield himself from any haters in the YBtBWB coalition, but I find myself in a grey area. While sympathetic to the cause of the YBtBWB coalition, I love Jackson’s trilogy. After stepping through each page of the books, I can say that Peter Jackson gave an authentic and lovingly crafted rendition of Tolkien’s story. But technically, yes… technically the books were still better.
I love to watch the cinematic trilogy at least once or twice a year (extended version only, thank you very much). But my reading list is getting long enough that it may be a while before I read through the trilogy again. Without spoiling anything, I’ve decided to record some bits, scenes, and conclusions that stuck out to me while still fresh in my mind.
My first note is pretty funny: Shadowfax is a more integral character than Arwen Evenstar. While Arwen is mostly implied to have a history with Aragorn, she is almost entirely absent from the story until she arbitrarily arrives to marry Aragorn at the conclusion of his story arc in the final book. In contrast, Shadowfax is often found literally carrying the plot (pun intended). Kingdoms covet him. Kings cannot tame him. While Tolkien may have just been writing figuratively, he says Shadowfax’s hooves “flame” as he gallops. So cool.
The next thing to note is the complete change of mood I felt in The Fellowship of the Rings. I’ll call it the “Tom Bombadil Hump”, because up to the conclusion of the Tom Bombadil arc, the mood of the story is more akin to The Hobbit. Tom Bombadil is an enigma in his quirk and downright goofiness, and the villains are even fable-like (Old Man Willow). Contrasting The Hobbit, Fellowship is very slow paced until you pass the Tom Bombadil Hump. While enjoyable, the Tom Bombadil story arc seems almost like it’s own short story, as it differs so much from the rest of the trilogy. Retrospectively, I see it as an incredibly well done transition from the safe and quirky atmosphere of The Shire into the grim and serious story that the epic becomes. In his mastery, and keeping consistent with this “geographic mood-changing device”, on the trip back, Tolkien transitions us in mood back from the grim-darkness of Dark Lords and warring kingdoms to the innocent childlike “Hobbit-world” the moment we reach the boundary where we last left Tom Bombadil. Example: Outside The Shire, Saruman is a powerful dark wizard and betrayer of mankind seeking to wipe the goodly races from the face of Middle Earth with his amassing army (serious business). But as we approach Tom Bombadil’s domain on the way back to The Shire, he’s just a bum that turns out to be ol’ “Sharkey” who decided to bully the hobbits and ruin their little utopia. A sliver of “grim-dark” returns for a moment in a paragraph where Saruman and Wormtongue receive their fate, but afterwards the innocent Hobbit-mood is fully restored to The Shire once and for all. I found Tom Bombadil to be a sort of “fence” between two completely different moods. As a reader, the pace of the story is nice and slow inside the Bombadil fence, just like the hobbits declare it to be, and just like the hobbits prefer.
I don’t know if it was my misinterpretation of the movies, but they always gave me the impression that putting the ring on would reveal your location to Sauron/The Nazgul. This isn’t the case in the books. The ring is in fact used to hide from the Witch-King of Angmar outside Minas Morgul as he leads the first wave of Mordor’s forces against the West.
In the books, men are awesome.
“Aragorn threw back his cloak. The elven-sheath glittered as he grasped it, and the bright blade of Anduril shone like a sudden flame as he swept it out. ‘Elendil!’ he cried. ‘I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dunadan, the heir of Isildur Elendil’s son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and is forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me? Choose swiftly!’ ”
— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Two Towers
Growing up with the movies, most people were infatuated with Legolas and elves. No way. Boromir was easily my favorite character in the first book. His strength carries the team (literally through the snow in one case). His prowess in battle is at the forefront of all the action. Boromir is awesome. After Boromir, Faramir sort of fills in as the same character, but with less faults. I guess that’s why he gets Princess Eowyn in the end, which is fully left out of the movies for some reason? I understand most of Jackson’s cut decisions, but I think this would have been easy to insert, as well as not leaving the viewers feeling like Eowyn got ice-cold scorned and rejected for an elf maiden (who didn’t even kill the Witch-King of Angmar or anything!).
Ent Draughts. I knew that the Ents take their time discussing things to painful lengths, but I never knew that while they discuss, they throw back magical potions. When Merry and Pippin rouse the Ents of Fangorn Forest to singlehandedly resolve the conflict approaching from the Southwest, they spend the whole time swigging magical Ent draughts with the cooler Ents. Even on the way back through Isengard, Merry and Pippin pop off with Fangorn (Treebeard) for one last Ent draught before continuing home. Why is this remarkable? Because the draughts make them ltierally grow in size, which is pretty spectacular if you’re a hobbit, and doubly spectacular if you’re a Took! (Bandobras Took was tall enough to ride a horse, he was!) By the time the hobbits return to The Shire, Merry and Pippin are the tallest hobbits to ever live, and they have no problem giving Sharkey’s ruffians the boot.
Last is a scene that sticks out to me more than any other. I mentioned earlier that the race of men in the books is way cooler than it is portrayed in the movies. The scene is when the wall of Helm’s Deep is breached and Aragorn is revealed to the enemy. I live to read scenes like this. As cool as Boromir, Faramir, and Eomer are, none of them compare to Aragorn from this moment on. Until this scene, all the members of The Fellowship are awesome, and they take turns being the coolest. In the movies, for whatever reason, Aragorn doesn’t receive Anduril (his sword) until Return of the King. In the books, he has the sword before we even meet him in the Prancing Pony. This is important because he has Anduril during this scene, and Anduril is QUITE different in the books. Anduril is called “Flame of the West” for a reason: it flashes with red flame.
“Very bright was that sword when it was made whole again; the light of the sun shone redly in it, and the light of the moon shone cold, and its edge was hard and keen. And Aragorn gave it a new name and called it Andúril, Flame of the West.”
– J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
When the wall of Helm’s Deep is breached, there stands Elessar, King of the West. In the blackness and pouring rain, he stands alone, Anduril shining in his hand. Believing they had made it through the Helm’s Deep’s defenses, the host of orcs instead finds itself so gripped with terror at the sight of the king, they dare not enter at all.
Hail to the King, baby.
