The Ringbearer Sonnets – Another Iteration

I have been working on this series of sonnets for many years, editing and rearranging them. In previous iterations, I presented titles spelling out who was the subject of a given sonnet and who was its speaker. I have removed these, so getting one’s bearings may take a little effort; though I think that it will be effort that will be rewarded.

I have kept the fundamental structure of the sonnets the same, with four appearing before the destruction of the ring—the eucastrophe—and three after, with this imbalance being perhaps the saddest thing in all of the Lord of the Rings.

Admittedly, these sonnets may be a bit of a heavy lift, as they may necessitate some Google searches—perhaps beginning with “eucastrophe” — or an awful lot of reading.

Finally, these poems may be a bit too “on the nose” for some in the connections that I make to Christianity, but teasing that out in the sufferings of the Ringbearers was one of my primary ends.

____________

My dear Smeagol. Indeed, you still are dear
To me. My son, please hear me if you may.
Turn from the dark, from things that crawl in fear
Of light into the earth. Look to the day,
Though it may hurt you for a while. Repent
Of whatever deed it is that chills your heart.
Warmth will return; the daylight is not spent.
My son, seek light again. Come take your part
Again in wholesome meals, in wholesome talk
Around the table. I will make amends
If you will but start; just begin the walk
Towards your healing. There are much worse ends,
My dear son, than to feel chastising pain.
Smeagol, repent. Come back to life again.

____________

And we all smiled to hear the Gaffer’s son
So named. Should not one born to earth and root,
Indeed, have such a name—the “half-wise” one?
Why, then, this reaching for a foreign fruit?
Why should a gard’ner ever tend to more
Than to roots of glorious taters. Thanks be
For those, for simple fruit and flow’rs. Why put store
In more, in your fancies wild and airy?
Dear, simple Samwise you of all should know—
Strange, wondrous weeds will grow from wand’ring seeds.
Lad, be planted here. Think of only how
To care for roses. Have no other need
For wizard dreams and mountains cold and Elves,
For old-fool Hobbits who forget themselves.

____________

My dear Bilbo, you know it must be so;
The burden has moved on. It came to you
For one purpose alone, for him to go,
Full-knowing of the Dark he must walk through,
To give it up into the Cracks of Doom.
For you it was a treasure far too great.
And taken once again it would consume
You from within. And even now it waits,
Subdued within these holy walls, to rise
Again and chain the neck on which it hangs,
And drag it to the dark where its lord lies.
Your task must be to wait—not hear the clang
Of swords—but help to bear the pangs of fear,
To plead the grace of Elbereth be near.

____________

My dear Frodo, I did not ever dream
To be my heir would mean so dark a road.
But adventures never come as it seems
They ought, only at our bidding. A load
Unsought will seldom await our choosing.
But with the load the Unseen Giver also gives
Graces and beauty to soothe the losing
Of homely things. So, take now as you leave
Fair mithril for without, and for within
Fair memories of sunlit days and friends,
Of glorious Elder Days, of Elves and Men
In darkness fighting for a brighter end.
Despair not, if night falls; all will be well.
Sing still, “A Elbereth Gilthoniel!”

EUCASTROPHE AT THE CRACKS OF DOOM

Dear, Samwise, you now see you are ill-named.
True wisdom ever shoots from lowly roots.
Of those who faithful stand and seek no fame,
You now belong, to taste its well-earned fruits.
Your love of tree and earth, all living things,
Of holy Elves and song and wizard tales,
Your guileless keeping of the guilty ring,
Your simple wisdom praised in Lorien’s vale,
By Lorien’s glorious Lady and her gifts,
Bring to the Shire its healing and its rest.
With rose and oak now golden Mallorn lifts
Its leaves to bless; and Elanor, gold-tressed,
Your joy begins. So, Ringbearer, through thee,
To Iluvatar may praise and glory be.

____________

Dear, faithful tenant of my homely house,
Who melds the joys of Shire and Elven-home,
The time has come. The secret power that rose
Through you was raised, ever to be cast down.
But its failing also begins the end
Of all things foul or fair wrought by the Rings
Of Power. This home I made to blend
The good of Middle Earth with holy things
Must also pass. So, Ringfinder, now come
And taste the joy for which we long have ached.
The homely joys we leave, as such, are done,
But I perceive Iluvatar shall take
Up each reflected image of His face
And make anew a joyous, homely place.

____________

Dear Elf-friend well met here under these trees
That bloom in part because of sorrow borne
By you, and of the love and toil of he
Who, gentle, bore you up, who soon will mourn
That you will not savor the fruits of joy
Which bloom in field and hearth since Elven-home
Has stretched to bless the Shire. For pain alloys
Each joy you feel vicariously alone.
But, know, your pain has brought you close to me.
You feel the holy ache we feel who knew
Undying light beyond the Sundering Seas,
And bear a restless wound till all’s made new.
You will be healed. The shoot of Melkor’s fall
Will fall and Iluvatar be all in all.

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“Under the Fading Trees”

-the setting of the Evenstar.

The Children of Hurin

In the blog post before this one I quoted Guillermo del Toro as saying that Smaug must be “the dragon.” Well, Glaurung from the Children of Hurin might have a thing or two to say about that. Even though he hasn’t wings like Smaug, his destructive power is awesome, and his dark malevolence even more subtle and wicked.
I read The Children of Hurin last weekend and…wow! If you have read The Silmarillion before you will already know the contours of the story of Hurin and his children, specifically Turin Tarambur, though I did not remember it from my reading and went back and re-read that chapter. Nonetheless, the tale is wonderfully filled out here, put together by Tolkien’s son, Christopher, from existing manuscripts. Christopher Tolkien also edited The Silmarillion.
In The Silmarillion, every thing that one encounters in the LOTR trilogy is bigger and badder. And the good is bigger and purer as well, as well as, sadly, the heights from which some of the good Fall. And, perhaps shockingly, this includes grievious Falls even by many elves.
This sense of a story being played out on a larger canvas, intensified to greater degrees of pathos and tragedy, is even stronger in The Children of Hurin, as the story of Turin is fleshed out with more detail and dialog and descriptions of landscapes, external and internal. And, oh my, the curses and predictions and choices and outcomes are every bit as tragic as a Greek tragedy, and I do emphasize Greek tragedy, because there is very little hope of redemption presented, though there are whispers.
All in all, despite the severely bleak backdrop…no, perhaps because of the severely bleak backdrop, the story is very satisfying. One really gets invested in hoping that Turin can avoid his fate…and then being torn to see it inexorably creep towards him. And, reader beware, some of the more distrubing elements of Greek tragedy (think Oedipus…well, kind of) are also present here, though, in no way valorized.
It all makes the victory and peace won in the LOTR seem all the sweeter, even though not even that story is the final reckoning. Tolkien meant his mythology to be a mythology for England, for our world. And we know the dear and ultimate cost that was paid to heal the wounds from the cacophony of evil that Melkor sang into the world.
P.S. A note on easier reading: If you cannot keep track of the the people and place names as you read, don’t worry about and plow on, though I do recommend having a quick look at the map before reading. Things will become clearer as you go along. And, after reading, perhaps at the end of a chapter or even the end of the book, look at the geneologies in the appendix and the map for greater clarity. The story is worth this mental bother. You must either geek out (I have not done this at least) and memorize the family trees of elves and men and dwarves or be content to follow the something like the procedure I outline above. Do not try to construct family trees in your mind as you go, or it will drive you crazy. Unless you are Rainman.
P.S.S. Here is a little hope for you below [Spoiler Alert!}, in a fantastic painting by John Howe…