Rereading LoTR, and every time I get something new out of it. This time, its the tension between the nearsighted and farsighted characters. The scene where Théoden and crew rest for the night at Hornburg, and Aragorn (spoiler alert) decides to leave and take the Path of the Dead. Merry, who youll remember passed time making a splendid second breakfast in the ruin of Isengard while the folks of importance made plans, swears fealty to Théoden. Like Pip to Denethor, it is an act of spontaneous generosity, spoken in total ignorance of what was being given and received (like all of our most important promises, made in blessed ignorance). There is no weighing out, no pondering, there is only acting in obedience to the impulses of their own good nature. I love the whole exchange: I have a sword, said Merry, climbing from his seat, and drawing from its black sheath his small bright blade. Filled suddenly with love for this old man, he knelt on one knee, and took his hand and kissed it. May I lay the sword of Meriadoc of the Shire on your lap Théoden King? he cried. Receive my service, if you will! Gladly will I take it, said the king; and laying his long old hands upon the brown hair of the hobbit; he blessed him. Rise now, Meriadoc, esquire of Rohan of the household of Meduseld! he said. Take your sword and bear it unto good fortune! As a father you shall be to me, said Merry. For a little while, said Théoden. For a little while. Ah, it kills me. It absolutely slays me. I think Tolkien gives us his own commentary through Aragorn when the company parts ways: There go three that I love, and the smallest not the least, he said. He knows not to what end he rides; yet if he knew, he still would go on.
Posted on: Thu, 11 Dec 2014 18:13:33 +0000
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