by Peter Archer
If You Have a Chance to Do an Eagle a Favor…
If you’re casually sitting under a tree, thinking of this and that and not paying much attention to the world around you, and an eagle drops by with an arrow in its wing, promptly remove it. Trust me, it’ll work out for the best in the end. A grateful eagle is one you want on your side. He’ll at least be more willing to do you a lot of favors. He might even rescue you from the middle of Mordor just as Mount Doom is erupting.
When in Woods
Woods are comfortable. Woods are places where hobbits can be happy and frolic. Hobbits have a natural affinity for trees; they love everything that grows. Give the average hobbit a tree, a soft spot on the grass beneath its spreading branches, and a patch of sunshine, and he’ll be asleep before you can say “Belladonna Took.”
When in Big, Scary, Unknown Woods. And I’m Not Talking About Woods Anywhere Remotely Close to the Shire, But Woods That Are in a Completely Different Part of Middle-earth and Seem to Be Alive. That’s How Scary They Are.
Make friends with the trees. Fast.
If the Trees Start Talking to You
Talk back. You don’t want to be rude. Trees have feelings too, you know. And there’s no reason to think they won’t be able to give you valuable advice. They might even be able to offer significant support. Or overthrow a rogue wizard or two. Trees are very important allies.
If they offer you a drink—drink it. You can always buy a larger set of clothing.
If You’re in a Live Wood
If the wood comes alive and offers you a drink, it’s probably a good idea to accept. And if you find yourself very far from home and the wood is offering to take you to one of its halls, that’s a good time to accept its hospitality as well. Who knows? You might like the drink it offers.
Accepting Drinks from Strange Trees
A tree that offers you drinks that taste like water on steroids is probably not something you’ll encounter in the normal course of things. But if you do, drink the drink. It’ll increase your height, weight, strength, and sexual stamina. You’ll come home taller than everyone else. And you’ll be able to tell other people in bars that you met the Oldest Living Thing Ever. That’s got to be good for a few rounds of ale.
If You See a Fire Among the Trees
If something glows a long way off in the distance and it looks like a fire, but you’ve been warned not to leave the path under any circumstances, no matter what you see, even if it looks like a fire and you’re starving and tired and hungry and you don’t really care anymore about your quest, and you wonder if they’ve got honey cakes and mead and ale wherever they’re eating way back among the trees and you really, really, really want to go and investigate. Don’t. Trust me. It won’t end well.
Just Who Lives in Woods?
Lots of nasty creatures make their homes in the woods. These include, but are not limited to, the following:
TROLLS. Stone trolls aren’t very bright and can easily be fooled, but once they’ve got their hands on you they’re not likely to let go. They like to eat anything that moves, including men, elves, dwarves, and hobbits (when they can recognize them). To render them helpless, wait until dawn, when they’ll turn to stone.
SPIDERS. Ordinary-sized spiders exist, of course, in abundance, but in the darker, more remote sections of the forest, you’ll find the descendants of Ungoliant, ready to feast on fresh blood. They’re larger than men (even pretty big men) and equipped with stingers that will render smaller creatures helpless. They prefer their meat fresh, having hung it head down for a couple of days. To defend against such spiders, have plenty of stones and an assortment of insulting names handy.
GOBLINS. Let’s face it: Goblins are pretty much everywhere you find darkness, damp, gloom, and mold. They have swords, fire, and an appetite for ponies. I mean, they eat ponies! What else do they eat? Fluffy kittens? Baby ducks? Elmo? To defend against them, you need magic goblin-killing swords and a spell that produces fire from nothing.
WOOD-ELVES. All right, Wood-elves aren’t nasty. They’re just… unreliable. Like most elves, they have a somewhat exaggerated opinion of their own importance, and they’re suspicious of nearly all strangers, no matter how innocent. They don’t treat their prisoners badly, compared to the way goblins treat prisoners, but still, they keep prisoners in cells underground.
When in Caves
Compared to some of the really unsavory places you may find in Middle-earth, caves aren’t too bad. Hobbits are fond of holes, really, and caves are just very long, deep holes. However, when caves are inhabited by goblins and other, nastier things, they can be problematic. Be sure to find the exit as quickly as possible. You don’t have to use it right away, but at least know where it is.
If You Meet Something in a Cave That’s Lived There for a Really, Really Long Time…
Caves are places where dark, mysterious things dwell. Slimy, dark, mysterious things. With big, pointy teeth. If you meet one of them, it’s probably as well to find something to pass the time. Possibly a riddle game. Yeah, that’s it. A riddle game. Because dark slimy things always like riddles.
Hobbits and dwarves are more comfortable in caves than, say, elves (except the Wood-elves of Mirkwood, and they are a special case). The main thing to keep in mind is to keep going up. Going down in a cave gets you into all sorts of places you’d rather not be. Going up gets you closer to the light and back doors, which are both very good things.
Stalagmites and Stalactites
Caves are full of mysterious protrusions that grow from the floor and from the ceiling. Lots of people confuse the two, but it’s pretty simple to keep them straight. A stalactite hangs from the ceiling (it has to hold “tight” to the ceiling of a cave). A stalagmite grows from the floor (it takes a lot of “might” to grow upward). In either case, stalagmites and stalactites can be handy places to hide from the prying eyes of strange creatures that want to eat you.
The Woods and the Mountains
When traveling between the mountains and the woods, keep an eye out for:
PARTIES OF ROVING WARGS AND GOBLINS. This sort of thing is seasonal. Summer is a popular time for raiding parties—the days are warm, the light stays longer, and all the woodsmen are busy getting drunk. What better time for wargs and goblins to team up and eat a few villages?
EAGLES. Eagles like to hunt at night, and even though their eyesight is extremely keen, it’s entirely possible that a large economy-size eagle will mistake an innocent traveler for dinner. Consider waving a primitive flag or making a hand signal to show you’re not a wayward rabbit, just an innocent wayfarer who wants to be left in peace.
SHAPE CHANGERS. Bears are bad enough. Bears that change into humans that pretend to be bears are even worse. The technical term for creatures like this is were-bears, but shape changers will do. They’re dangerous, but they can be useful allies, particularly against goblins and wargs. The chief lesson you can learn from were-bears is that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover or an ally by its skin. Remember: Some of the best and stoutest allies have fur.
Crossing Water
Essentially there are two ways to cross a body of water: by swimming or by boat. If you can’t swim (and almost no hobbits can), you can try a boat. If you don’t like boats (and few hobbits do), you can walk around the water or sit down and wait in hopes of something or someone coming along to carry you to the other side.
Cities
Hobbits much prefer towns to cities; the latter are too large and too populated for comfort. However, hobbits can acclimate to just about anything, including cities. Fortunately, they’re not called upon to do so very often. In the time of Frodo and Aragorn, Middle-earth had, effectively, only two cities: Minas Tirith, the guard against Mordor, and Minas Morgul, city of the Witch-king. Towns (such as Bree, Hobbiton, or the towns surrounding Gondor), settlements (such as Rivendell or Isengard), or military outposts (such as Osgiliath) were much more prevalent.
Finding Your Way About
; Fortunately, cities in Middle-earth aren’t that big or that complicated in their structure. Minas Tirith rises in seven concentric circles, each piercing the reef of rock at the easternmost point of the city. So even Pippin, who’s new to Minas Tirith, doesn’t have a lot of difficulty in navigating the city. He simply continues downward until he reaches the level of the gates; there’s nowhere else to go.
Minas Morgul’s geography is more difficult to estimate, but it’s no larger than Minas Tirith—probably smaller, since the Ringwraiths don’t require as much space to operate.
Food and Drink
Every big city has its taverns. Even smaller towns such as Hobbiton and Bywater offer places where a hungry and thirsty hobbit can settle down with a well-deserved sandwich and a pint. Minas Tirith may be a city of stone and tradition, but plenty of friendly pubs within its city walls will serve a pint to a warrior after a hard day’s work of fighting off Nazgul. Take a lesson from hobbits: When entering a city, your first matter of business should be to find out where the grub is served.
Government
Hobbits, by and large, use simple governing structures. The Shire has a mayor, the Mayor of Michel Delving, elected once every seven years. His primary duty is to preside at banquets. Cities, on the other hand, are more complicated. Minas Tirith comes complete with a steward, at first, and later, a king. The latter’s jurisdiction extends all the way to the Shire. (King Elessar eventually makes it a free province and forbids men to enter.) Even so, the hobbits maintain their traditional ways, seven times electing Samwise Gamgee mayor of the Shire. The kingship of Gondor continues, although the Shire may or may not still be part of its domain. In any case, the lesson of Shire politics is simply: “All politics is local.”
Town Masters
The exception that proves the rule about local government seems to be the Master of Lake-town. His is an elected position, and it’s clear that a certain amount of corruption accompanies it. Like most politicians, he’s a proven coward, and he is willing to say anything to divert attention from his involvement in Esgaroth’s deplorable situation following the dragon attack.
It’s impossible to say how many other towns in Middle-earth have masters. The general rule of thumb is clear, though: Don’t trust anyone who’s elected (except the Mayor of Michel Delving, who’s pretty harmless).
Facing Fears and Confronting Evil
I’ve been in terror of you and your dogs for over thirty years, Farmer Maggot, though you may laugh to hear it. It’s a pity: for I’ve missed a good friend.”
—Frodo in JRR Tolkien’s
The Fellowship of the Ring
Hobbits are small, and the world is big. There are monsters in Middle-earth, and most of these—indeed most everything in that world—are bigger than hobbits. Even all the hobbits together would not make an army of much significance, nor are there hobbit warlords who could stand toe-to-toe with orcs or cave trolls.
In a sense, hobbits are the children of Middle-earth. In their secluded Shire, they are blissfully unaware of the horrors and creatures that could destroy them in a day. Dark forces would’ve long ago crept into the Shire and ended its innocence had Strider’s Rangers not kept their long vigil. The Rangers, like parents sheltering young children, strove to maintain the hobbits’ isolation for as long as possible.
Because, for the hobbits, “growing up” would mean the death of something precious in the world.
It is natural for a child to be afraid of things. A healthy dose of fear keeps him from dangerous situations. Fear is an acknowledgment that something may be more powerful than oneself and that it could cause damage and should therefore be avoided or at least treated with great care.
Yet, even in the rarified preserve in which the hobbits live, some fears remain: fear of boats and drowning, fear of Gandalf’s magical fireworks, fear of Farmer Maggot’s dogs, fear of strange news from Bree. Just across the Hedge from Buckland lies the Old Forest, where there are indeed things to fear. And beyond that, the Barrow-downs, where no hobbit with any sense would ever go.
A person, young or old, who has never faced true fear does not know what he would do in a truly fearful situation. Some parts of one’s character can be revealed only in a crisis. An argument can be made that, without fear, no person can reach his full potential. Certainly that is true of the hobbits who left the Shire in Tolkien’s stories.
The greater world of Middle-earth, just like the world beyond a child’s understanding, is filled with virtuous men, women, and other beings, but also with agents of terrible evil. All of us must reach childhood’s end eventually. We must venture out from the protection of our upbringing and encounter the wide world. Because it is not inside the Shire where our true identities are to be found, but outside.
The (Hobbit) Hero’s Journey
Both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings belong to a category of narrative called the hero’s journey.
The hero’s journey is a term coined by American mythologist Joseph Campbell to refer to the monomyth, the one basic narrative pattern that is found in nearly every culture and civilization throughout human history.
In The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Campbell laid out the phases of the hero’s journey. They fall into three parts: departure, initiation, and return. These phases contained most or all of the following components:
Departure:
The call to adventure (often brought by the “herald”)
Refusal of the call
Supernatural aid
The crossing of the first threshold
Belly of the whale
Initiation:
The road of trials (including new allies and enemies)
The meeting with the goddess (a.k.a., mystical marriage)
Woman as temptress
Atonement with the father
Apotheosis (elevation in rank to godhood)
The ultimate boon
Return:
Refusal of the return
The magic flight
Rescue from without
The crossing of the return threshold
Master of two worlds
Freedom to live
The graphic on the next page depicts the journey, though with some added or altered terms.
Broadly speaking, the hero’s journey is the story of 1) a hero (or heroine) who was safe and protected at home, perhaps spoiled and longing for adventure, who is 2) forced to go out into the scary outside world, where he meets many new challenges and allies but eventually overcomes them all to truly become a mighty warrior, and who then 3) returns home to bring to his people the fruit of what he’s learned and achieved.
The application to The Hobbit is clear. Bilbo was the epitome of the spoiled and protected—and untried—innocent. He is cast out, quite against his will, into that terrifying unknown beyond the boundaries of his land. In this journey, he encounters new allies and enemies, gains a mentor, finds a magical talisman, and achieves heroic, grown-up things of which he never believed himself capable. In the end, he returns to the Shire with the riches won on his journey. But he is no longer the same. He is master of two worlds—those inside and outside the Shire—and prefers the company of elves and wizards to that of his fellow hobbits.
Frodo’s journey in The Lord of the Rings follows the same pattern, though on a more epic scale. Many people wonder about the extended ending of the book version of The Return of the King. In a purely narrative sense, the story is essentially over when Sauron is defeated. All that is required is a return home to enjoy the peace and innocence the heroes have protected.
But from a hero’s journey perspective, the story is not over until the heroes have returned home and brought to their families the wealth of what they have learned and become on their travels. They went out to war and became heroes. When they get home, they find that their heroism is in need once again. They lead the uprising against Sharky and achieve the Scouring of the Shire.
Had they never gone on their journey, no one would have opposed
Sharky and his minions, and the Shire would’ve been surely enslaved. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin would’ve been herded to their doom like all the rest of the hobbits. But they are heroes now, and dark times call for heroes.
Tolkien wrote hero’s journey tales. Certainly he didn’t rely on Joseph Campbell’s work directly, since The Hero with a Thousand Faces wasn’t published until 1949 and The Hobbit was published in 1937. But Campbell’s genius was to recognize the monomyth in every culture and to condense the various components into a cohesive list, like the one found previously. Doubtless Tolkien sensed these steps inherently, as have so many others across every civilization throughout human history. It has even been argued that the hero’s journey is a fingerprint of the divine.
Because, truly, it is man’s story. We all start as children who are sheltered in some respect or another but who must eventually venture out into the frightening world of adulthood. Hopefully, while on this journey, we “grow up,” we become individuated (to use Carl Jung’s term), we finally “get it” and achieve a level of mastery that allows us to excel in our lives as confident adults. Finally, we bring what we have learned and apply it to the home, family, and community in which we choose to live.
Once you understand the phases and their components of the hero’s journey, you’ll begin to see it everywhere. At least half of the stories Hollywood and novelists produce are hero’s journey stories. Examine Star Wars, The Little Mermaid, Cars, Ender’s Game, The Hurt Locker, The King’s Speech, No Country for Old Men, and many, many others, and you’ll see the monomyth lying beneath. Indeed, George Lucas befriended Joseph Campbell and worked with him extensively to make Star Wars the quintessential hero’s journey tale. Tolkien’s narratives are no less hero’s journey stories.
