Warning: We're definitely heading for Osgiliath.
Melodrama?Sass wrote:forgive me, but I think implicit in the order of your words is the notion that 'melodrama' is a part of Tolkien's 'relentless hopelessness'.
Well, yes. I do think that melodrama is a part of the 'relentless hopelessness' of the Sil's "history" of the Elves. It is myth, and myth is most often melodramatic, IMO. Myth exaggerates pretty much every aspect of the human condition: love, hate, sacrifice, fear, courage, honor, envy, greed - you name it. Fingolfin's ride is most certainly melodramatic, and it is also most certainly “acceptable within the parameters of that war”. But if you take it out of the realm of myth, what do you have? A man driven by rage and despair, who is no longer capable of rational thought, a man bent on a suicidal mission, riding towards blind and futile vengeance. He is, quite simply, nuts. At least he would be in the “real world”, and I really believe he would be in LOTR’s world as well. That is not at all like Théoden, at least, not to me (I’m just going to leave it at that, as we’re on the outskirts of Osgiliath already!)
And getting back to Sam…..well, imagine if he had pulled a Fingolfin at Cirith Ungol. Imagine if he succumbed to his grief and rage and hopelessness and went charging off to go “mano a mano” with Gollum, or had thrown himself over the precipice in the ultimate act of despair. Sam knows what those choices are – self-indulgent and useless. He chooses the hardest path – to go on, in spite of all the horror and sorrow that burdens him. As he rejects the Ring itself, weighing him down and tempting him with the release of glorious omnipotence, Sam rejects the temptations of “sweet” vengeance and “welcome” oblivion. It brings to mind, if you’ll forgive the reference, something Dumbledore says in the Harry Potter series that firmly lodged itself in my memory from the moment I read it: most often, we do not make a conscious choice between what is right and what is wrong, but “between what is right and what is easy”. You wouldn’t want old Fingolfin to get his hands on the Ring. I have no doubt that he would take the easy path, but by god, it would be one magnificently apocalyptic ride.
You know, this is what kind of irks me about my own response to Tolkien’s most gloriously heroic passages. They really get to me. They suck me into a vacuum of savage, brutal beauty, where there is little room for thought amid a swirling maelstrom of reactionary emotion. I know better. I know that Fingolfin’s ride is a mad, self-destructive act. I know that the Rohirrim singing as they slaughter is, well……psychopathic. It’s funny isn’t it, that these passages that are written in such high language and evoke such vaulted. stirring emotion, actually appeal to what I consider the lower levels of my human nature. Go figure.
After our discussion of the Sil came to an end, I read LOTR again, and it felt like such a relief, such a refreshing and joyous relief, to walk with the small and humble again through Middle-earth. Thank goodness for hobbits. Thank goodness for the balance they bring to all that high and glorious melodrama that Tolkien so compellingly offers us in the Sil (as well as many parts of LOTR). Under all those flashing swords and streaming banners and stirring speeches, there’s the mundane reality of Merry crawling through the mire, sick with blind terror, and Pippin yearning to see “cool sunlight and green grass” as the hosts of Sauron rush towards him. No Elf from the Sil could make his or her way across Gorgoroth without a healthy dose of melodrama, let’s face it. But there’s nothing melodramatic about Sam and Frodo gratefully drinking the foul, oily water of Mordor, or Sam’s heartbreaking decision to throw away his beloved cooking pots, or Frodo’s simple, wordless act of taking Sam’s hand after hearing all that his friend has been through. If I had to, I’d trade in all the grand triumph and tragedy of the Sil for those moments with the hobbits, I really would.
The Long Defeat
Sass wrote:I must take a bit of umbrage over “relentless hopelessness of his thematic Long Defeat”. It's all in the eye of the beholder, I suppose, every descriptive word you use is true, however I, for one, am immeasurably moved by the concept of 'Long' and 'Defeat'. The realization that this brilliant, melancholic, profoundly artistic, deeply-convicted race is doomed to a destiny of eternal sadness, regardless of root cause, cannot change the direction of one single footstep. It is because the Elves have no choice that I find their doom unutterably tragic.
Now there’s a passage from LOTR that moved me right from my first reading! It was one of those times I knew a curtain that veiled a deep and ancient past had been momentarily lifted. I yearned for the publication of the Sil because of passages like that."For the Lord of the Galadrim is accounted the wisest of the Elves of Middle-earth, and a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings. He has dwelt in the West since the days of dawn, and I have dwelt with him years uncounted; for ere the fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin I passed over the mountains, and together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat."
I can absolutely understand your take on those words, Sass. They are so lovely and sad, and thinking about it, I liked them better when I knew less about Tolkien, and trusted more in my own limited sense of his world. For years, I interpreted them very narrowly, understanding them to mean something like “the failing guard” against the will and force of Sauron. Galadriel’s words applied to herself and Lothlórien, as they gradually and inexorably weakened and faded against the encroaching shadow. But as my view of Tolkien’s world expanded and changed, so did my interpretation: I have two, actually – one I feel comfortable with, and one that I don’t really like at all.
But first of all, I’d like to address your thoughts. I remember from our Sil conversations how deeply intrigued and moved you were by the idea that the Eldar are rigidly and irrevocably bound by the Music – that they carry this burden that gets heavier and heavier as the ages pass, that they wear a chain that’s linked all the way back to the discords of Melkor, and before that, to the very designs of Eru. But what if there had been no discords? What if the Music was played all the way through, harmonious and joyful and lovely, just as the Second Music supposedly will be played? The Elves would still have no choice but to be bound to it and shaped by it, so would their doom still be tragic? They would still not be able to escape Time, but would that still be considered their millstone? Would predestined eternal bliss be a burden and a chain? I sure don’t know what the answer is, but I am sure that it wouldn’t make for a very good story. One of David Byrne’s lyrics keeps running through my mind as I think about this: “Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.” Notice that Tolkien doesn’t dwell on the Vanyar doing whatever it is they do back in Aman. I wonder if the Vanyar also feel the weight of eternal sadness. I wonder if eternal life is pretty much the same thing. I wonder if eternity itself is the weight.
You've got me thinking big thoughts, Sass.
What do I think the long defeat means now? Well, my personal preference is to think of it in a more circular, rather than linear way. To me, it’s rooted in the idea of beginnings and endings, of gains and losses. One age must end so that another can begin. One kindred must fade so that another can rise. Every journey starts with leaving something behind. An eternal cycle of ebb and flow, wax and wane – the way of the earth itself. But more than anything, I guess I view the long defeat as being rooted in our need (as both Elves and Men) to love. This is the sadness we all understand, the sadness that must be part of our lives because we all must lose some place, some thing, someone that we love. We all have to say good-bye, but even those endings begin something new. I’m more than sure that this wasn’t Tolkien’s intention, although much in LOTR, especially in its final chapters, speaks to me in these terms. In a way, we’re back to Sam again, lamenting the departure of the Elves and the ending of an Age at the beginning of the book, and on the final page, walking towards a future made possible by what has passed away.
But I said that Tolkien’s thematic long defeat was relentless and made me cranky, so I guess I should (finally) get to that. And here’s where sometimes knowing too much and thinking too long can be dangerous. After such a long and detailed discussion of the Sil, after looking at it so closely and analyzing it so thoroughly, I re-read it straight through, along with the accompanying Akallabêth, and something felt…..unsettling, even oppressive. The long defeat just seemed to mean the never-ending war against evil, where battles could be won, but never for long, where every single living thing was marred – targets for corruption, decay and diminishment. Oh I know, the Sil wouldn’t be the Sil without those elements. I love the myth, but something goes off for me right at the end. I’ve decided that I don’t like the ending of the Sil. I think theological considerations molded it, and rather than letting the myth play out with the inclusion of the Second Prophesy, Tolkien’s Catholic faith won out. He wrote in a letter:
I like your interpretation better, Sass. And mine. I don’t much like the idea of one long, never-ending struggle against evil, and being constantly reminded that the “dark seeds” of Morgoth will never cease to find fertile ground. I’ll say it again – thank goodness for LOTR, Thank goodness for Sam the gardener, who knows that winter must always surrender to spring, and that shadows are but passing things. That’s the greatest thing, to me, about that moment when he looks up at the star. That star could symbolize the defeat of Sauron, or the remaking of Arda itself in the “final victory” that Tolkien wrote of, or maybe it’s God, or goodness itself, but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t have to see it in any of those ways. I can see it as Sam’s belief, his deep-down belief in the world that sustains him. It's his belief in the story that he and Frodo are part of. The world is a wonder, stars are a wonder, and they will carry on, long after our own little journeys are over and others are walking those paths. We should find hope and joy in that.Actually, I am a Christian, and indeed a Roman Catholic, so that I do not expect 'history' to be anything but a 'long defeat' - though it contains (and in a legend may contain more clearly and movingly) some samples or glimpses of final victory.
Now, let’s leave Osgiliath and get back to Cirith Ungol.
I have thoroughly enjoyed everyone's thoughts on Sam's song, and was particularly struck with something Jny wrote:
This very much reminds me of Éowyn's laugh as she stands before the Witchking. This is so close to how I feel about that moment, but I've never found words to describe it. Thank-you.This ... singing in the Tower of Cirith Ungol ... this is really important, imo. Important to the book and important to the gift that Sassy has given us with this thread.
{snip}
Sartre once wrote that there are only two possible “good faith” responses to the human condition: laughter, or suicide. If I might tweak that a bit: song, or suicide.
This song in the Tower is the song of humanity which, seeing defeat ... (the unavoidable defeat that is the human condition of all of us) ... says “yes” anyway. Sings anyway. Even in the face of inevitable death,
{snip}
Think what it means to be confronting Mordor and your answer is to sing! What sovereignty in that choice!
) I felt the urgent need to give some very hearty 
to the thread.
You know, Griff, I think you are quite right. What an acute observation; isn't it marvelous how one person's insight can add more substance to the book we all ( I assume) we know inside out? He does seem a little 'flippant' in his interaction with Elves, even Elrond himself. 
No fish to slap him with unfortunately, and my kids got bitten by fleas in their hovel so that was the end of that.