Biblical and Theological Commentary on Unfinished Tales, Part 3
The Third Age
(avg. read time: 14–28 mins.)
This part concerns the unfinished tales of the Third Age. Some are expansions of stories told in the Appendices of LOTR (which are also hinted at in the main story), and the others are brief stories of The Hobbit and LOTR told from different perspectives. Something that is particularly interesting about this section, such as in the story of Isildur’s death, is how it shows Tolkien’s dedication to verisimilitude. He, as the narrator, expounds on the sources for the story and the history of how it came to be known and written down. He also speculates on what ultimately happened to Isildur’s body. This is consistent with what we have seen of how important he considered verisimilitude in sub-creation, particularly since myths, fairy stories, and fantasy are supposed to be means of telling the truth creatively (see here, here, and here). It is also consistent with what we have highlighted on multiple occasions of how Tolkien treats the events of his story as taking place in an imaginary past of our own world, and so he treats it like history.
Another Will at Work
For this story of the disaster at Gladden Fields when Isildur lost the Ring and died, only a couple points are worth observing for our purposes, although the tale as a whole is quite interesting. Gandalf had spoken to Frodo of other wills being at work in the Ring abandoning Gollum only to be picked up by Bilbo. The narration may present a similar dynamic at work here in the Ring abandoning Isildur. Although Isildur’s company initially rebuffed the charge of the Orcs, and that would usually have been enough to prevent them from trying to attack again, we are told that they were stiffened by the servants of Barad-dûr who came to command them and “though it was unknown to them the Ring, cut from his black hand two years before, was still laden with Sauron’s evil will and called to all his servants for their aid” (285). The will of the Ring, being the bearer of Sauron’s will, was to betray Isildur to his death so that it could be reclaimed by the Orcs and eventually returned to Sauron. Although it would not betray Gollum to his death in such an immediate way, this is what it was seeking to accomplish in abandoning Gollum nearly 3,000 years later.
However, it could be argued that there was another will at work beyond the visible actors in this story and besides the Ring itself, although it is described more obliquely here than in LOTR. As Isildur strives across the Anduin in his attempt to escape from the Orcs, he finds himself fighting the current as he swims and suddenly, “By chance, or chance well used, it had left his hand and gone where he could never hope to find it again. At first so overwhelming was his sense of loss that he struggled no more, and would have sunk and drowned. But swift as it had come the mood passed. The pain had left him. A great burden had been taken away” (287). After this, Isildur makes it to the opposite shore, whereupon he is felled with arrows, and his body drifts down the river.
Now, it is possible to read the previous text as suggesting only that the Ring is the one using “chance” here. The narrator is not direct about whether this is merely a case of happenstance/a circumstantial occurrence or whether this was the Ring using what looks like chance. But the narrator is also not direct about whether the other will referenced by Gandalf was not also at work in this in providential action.
Thus, I do not want to state the latter option to be the case too confidently, but there are a few aspects of this story that make me think this could be so. One, there is the aforementioned parallel with Gollum and Bilbo and the Ring’s action there being undercut by the other will. Two, the Ring calling to the Orcs makes clear that it would rather be reclaimed by an Orc to eventually make its way back to Sauron, but instead it is lost in the river for over 2,000 years thereafter. Three, this place where it is lost is where no one could manage to find it who was actively looking for it. What was true of Isildur was true of anyone else; they could never hope to find it again, and only much later with subtle changes in the river and the decision made by an obscure group of people to reside there might someone come across it by accident. This could not have been what the Ring wanted, but in the long, encircling designs of Providence it will come to be where it can be kept away from Sauron and destroyed. Four, the feeling that comes over Isildur also parallels Bilbo’s resolve to leave the Ring behind and the internal work of Providence that we noted there (although there is no parallel for Gandalf here).
Unforeseen Help
The story of Cirion and Eorl is part of a larger story of Gondor and its northern allies. Before the Rohirrim became a distinct people, their ancestors were part of the Northmen with whom the Gondorians formed an alliance early in the Third Age. Appendix A of LOTR covers the twists and turns of the relationship in broad strokes. Here, we are told that some of the Northmen, under the leadership of Marhwini, settled in the Vales of Anduin and became the “horse-people” who would later be the Eorlingas and the Rohirrim. They formed an alliance with King Calimehtar against the Wainriders. Although this alliance would not be immediately successful in decisively defeating the Wainriders, it would prove to be an effective instrument in the hands of Providence for the preservation of both peoples. Far beyond what they could have intended or foreseen, the greatest effect of this alliance would come in their descendants over a thousand years later: “But the greatest effect of the alliance lay far in the future which none could foresee: the two great rides of the Rohirrim to the salvation of Gondor, the coming of Eorl to the Field of Celebrant, and the horns of King Théoden upon the Pelennor but for which the return of the King would have been in vain” (303–304). This instrument was set in place long before Gondor even lost its kingship, and even longer before Marhwini’s people would have a kingdom of their own. But such is the subtle and long-arcing work of Providence bringing these people together to accomplish ends and provide help they cannot possibly foresee. That this is indeed providential is further supported by how Providence is at work in the War of the Ring for these kingdoms and specifically with their alliance to help them achieve the intended goal, as we have noted in the commentary on LOTR.
A minor note in further signification of this comes in the central story of this section when the steward Cirion sent messengers to Eorl for aid against the Balchoth. We are told that the path for the messengers was perilous, and of the six messengers sent in three pairs only one, Borondir made it through. His companion was slain by arrows on the way, but the narrator tells us that from this ambush “Borondir escaped by fortune and the speed of his horse” (311). This is another way we have seen at many other junctures of referring to the subtle work of Providence, even as the guiding of arrows also shows evidence of the same on other occasions.
Marks of Religion in Gondor
After the battle in which Eorl and his men come to the aid of Cirion, we are given a scene in which we see more marks of religion in Gondor. This is in addition to what we have noted about religion in Númenor and its successor realms from LOTR, The Silmarillion, and the previous part of this volume. In this instance, Cirion brings Eorl to the tomb of Elendil on Amon Anwar/Halifirien. The place is considered hallowed, as Isildur said at its establishment, “here shall the memorial of Elendil the Faithful abide in the keeping of the Valar, while the Kingdom endures. This hill shall be a hallow, and let no man disturb its peace and silence, unless he be an heir of Elendil” (318; cf. 322, 323). The invocation of the Valar to keep it is the invocation of the agents of Providence, and the entrusting of the keeping of this place to them is a recognition of their link to the one to whom Elendil was faithful (cf. Num 6:24; Pss 91:11; 121:3–8). The confirmation that the Valar have kept this place is that “though the woods might grow tangled and be avoided by men because of the silence, so that the upward path was lost, still when the way was re-opened the hallow was found unweathered and unprofaned, ever-green and at peace under the sky, until the Kingdom of Gondor was changed” (323). Moreover, the designation of Elendil as “Faithful” resonates with what we have seen at multiple points about the Faithful, the religious significance of this designation, and the use of faith terminology in the NT (besides the LOTR commentary, see examples here and here), since the terms also have the sense of “steadfast (in allegiance).”
Cirion then makes this oath with Eorl first in Quenya and then in Common Speech: “This oath shall stand in memory of the glory of the Land of the Star, and of the faith of Elendil the Faithful, in the keeping of those who sit upon the thrones of the West and of the One who is above all thrones for ever” (319). This is a reflection of the sworn alliance Elendil made with Gil-galad in the Second Age, and it would be reflected again in what King Elessar would swear in renewed commitment to Éomer. Such an oath was once considered the province of the King alone, but the Stewards thereafter were authorized, since “It had been held lawful only for the King of Númenor to call Eru to witness, and then only on the most grave and solemn occasions” (331). The acknowledgment that the One is above all thrones forever (cf. Dan 7:9–14; Col 1:16; Rev 4–5) is also a declaration of humble devotion on the part of the King or, in this case, the Steward to the One who is greater than himself, who has authority over him, who transcends all, and who reigns forever and ever. And in view of the nascent belief in facing Eru for judgment after death (at whatever time that will be), to call Eru as witness also reinforces that Eru will hold him to account for keeping his word or failing to do so (cf. Rev 21:8; 22:15).
Eorl affirms his hope that “those whom we called in witness of our oaths have us in their keeping” (321). And before they part, Cirion makes a rather remarkable claim: “But I believe that the words of my oath, which I had not forethought ere I spoke them, were not put into my mouth in vain. We will part then in hope” (321). Nor is this without basis in Tolkien’s mythos. On the one hand, we have seen multiple times in commentaries on LOTR and The Silmarillion how words come to characters in ways described as inspiration by an external source. On the other hand, he has spoken an oath that he was not intending to be like the words of Elendil, but he has spoken those same words anyway. Nor is such a claim born of hubris, as the narrator says, “After the manner of the Chronicles no doubt much of what is here put into the mouths of Eorl and Cirion at their parting was said and considered in the debate of the night before; but it is certain that Cirion said at parting his words concerning the inspiration of his oath, for he was a man of little pride and of great courage and generosity of heart, the noblest of the Stewards of Gondor” (321).
Recognition of Providence in the Story of Bilbo
The next story tells about the Quest for Erebor from a different perspective, and it exists in multiple versions. As in the pertinent section of Appendix A.III of LOTR, the setting for this story is one of Gandalf recollecting the quest for Frodo, Pippin, Merry, and Gimli during their time in Minas Tirith. He had concluded his story as related in that appendix (and here on 340) with this remarkable note:
Yet things might have gone far otherwise and far worse. When you think of the great Battle of the Pelennor, do not forget the battles in Dale and the valour of Durin’s Folk. Think of what might have been. Dragon-fire and savage swords in Eriador, night in Rivendell. There might be no Queen in Gondor. We might now hope to return from the victory here only to ruin and ash. But that has been averted—because I met Thorin Oakenshield one evening on the edge of spring in Bree. A chance-meeting, as we say in Middle-earth. (Appendix A.III)
The suggestive phrasing is akin to other statements we have seen from Gandalf, as well as others like Tom Bombadil and Elrond. This could be seen as something that happened “by chance,” but “chance” is another name for the work of divine providence here.
There are more such notes in this version of the story. After observing the strange chance whereby he met Thorin, as well as how thoughts coalesced in his mind to make him think Bilbo should be fit for this quest, he recalls another strange change whereby he had come to possess the map and the key Thorin would need for Erebor. He remembers, “I had not thought of them for years. It was not until I got to the Shire and had time to reflect on Thorin’s tale that I suddenly remembered the strange chance that had put them in my hands; and it began now to look less like chance” (338). No other will could be at work to orchestrate his receiving the key and map years ago, his encountering Thorin, and his being in the Shire to remember Bilbo than a transcendent will. This will’s operations can sometimes look like chance, but in retrospect his operations look “less like chance.” We also see the internal operations of Providence through Gandalf being motivated to keep these things “by some warning of my heart” (338). Likewise, he admitted that he had kept them for nearly a century “without any design of my own, until the moment when they would prove most useful” (338). He could not have imagined the time and the circumstances that would make these objects and his long keeping of them prove useful, but because of his faithfulness in keeping them in listening to the warning of his heart, he once again became an instrument of the operations of Providence. Conversely, the Enemy’s small oversight from overlooking Thráin’s possessions through obsessive focus on claiming his ring proved to be fatal by the operations of Providence: “I think that the Dark Power had desired nothing from him except the Ring only, and when he had taken that he troubled no further, but just flung the broken prisoner into the pits to rave until he died. A small oversight; but it proved fatal. Small oversights often do” (351).
Similarly, Gandalf perceived, though he could not have explained it at the time, that it was quite necessary for Bilbo to go on this quest with Thorin. As he says, this was made clearer to him in retrospect: “I knew in my heart that Bilbo must go with him, or the whole quest would be a failure—or, as I should say now, the far more important events by the way would not come to pass” (339). Gandalf’s intuition proved right on both counts, as should be readily apparent to anyone who has read The Hobbit and as should be apparent from the aforementioned summary. It is precisely because this quest connected to so many other purposes, even more than he could have imagined at the time, that Gandalf helped Thorin, as he told him, “If I had no other purposes, I should not be helping you at all. Great as your affairs may seem to you, they are only a small strand in the great web. I am concerned with many strands. But that should make my advice more weighty, not less” (339). This reflects Gandalf’s larger mission as an emissary of the Valar and an agent of Providence, as we have outlined elsewhere. By virtue of who he is and what his mission was, he was more aware of the interweaving works of Providence, but even he was made to wonder at them in retrospect.
In the same way, to take one example among others from the Bible, Joseph meeting the unnamed man in Shechem while looking for his brothers is but a small event in Gen 37:14–17, easily missed for its significance as the reader progresses through the story. But without it, the rest of the story does not happen. For then Joseph would not have found his brothers in a timely enough fashion that they would have been able to catch him, have the debate about what to do to him, and then find the caravan passing at just the right time to have the idea occur to them to sell him into slavery. Without selling him into slavery, he does not go to Egypt. Without him going to Egypt, he does not end up in Potiphar’s house. Without ending up in Potiphar’s house, and in an honored position at that, he does not go to prison when he does after being falsely accused by Potiphar’s wife to encounter the baker and cupbearer of the pharaoh. Without that encounter, he does not ultimately (after a long delay) get out and into the pharaoh’s favor. Without getting into the pharaoh’s favor such that he can be second in power over the kingdom, he cannot enact his plan for the famine to come. Without enacting his plan for the famine to come, many, many more would have suffered much worse, including his family. And thus, without him being where he was, his family would not have had reason to move to Egypt, and the events of the story of Exodus would not have happened as they did. And all of this was set in motion by an unnamed man being in the right place at the right time (which someone in the time of the story could have easily described as a “chance” encounter) to tell Joseph what he needed to know, which seems to be coincidence, but we are reminded in Gen 50:20 that God intended what had happened for good, including his brothers’ evil intentions.
Thus are the strange ways of Providence that a supposedly chance meeting had such wide-ranging ramifications. But so it is that the Author takes such events up and directs them to greater purposes than anyone involved in the story might have imagined at first. Even one who is an intentional agent of Providence like Gandalf marvels at it in hindsight when the great web of the story can be seen more fully. One can only imagine how it will be when the whole mega-narrative of history is laid out for review.
Related to this, in an earlier version of the story, Gimli reflects on the Shire and says, “‘Did not the recovery of the Kingship under the Mountain, and the fall of Smaug, begin there? Not to mention the end of Barad-dûr, though both were strangely woven together. Strangely, very strangely,’ he said, and paused” (343). He then goes on to ask Gandalf, “But who wove the web? I do not think I have ever considered that before. Did you plan all this then, Gandalf? If not, why did you lead Thorin Oakenshield to such an unlikely door? To find the Ring and bring it far away into the West for hiding, and then to choose the Ringbearer—and to restore the Mountain Kingdom as a mere deed by the way: was not that your design?” (343). Gandalf’s response to the same should be quoted in full:
Gandalf did not answer at once. He stood up, and looked out of the window, west, seawards; and the sun was then setting, and a glow was in his face. He stood so a long while silent. But at last he turned to Gimli and said: ‘I do not know the answer. For I have changed since those days, and I am no longer trammeled by the burden of Middle-earth as I was then. In those days I should have answered you with words like those I used to Frodo, only last year in the spring. Only last year! But such measures are meaningless. In that far distant time I said to a small and frightened Hobbit: Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker, and you therefore were meant to bear it. And I might have added: and I was meant to guide you both to those points.
‘To do that I used in my waking mind only such means as were allowed to me, doing what lay to my hand according to such reasons as I had. But what I knew in my heart, or knew before I stepped on these grey shores: that is another matter. Olórin I was in the West that is forgotten, and only to those who are there shall I speak more openly.’ (344; emphases original; cf. 351)
As we have noted elsewhere in discussing Gandalf’s mission, certain limitations were placed on him in this incarnate form, for which his appearance as an old man was a signification. Again, we need not repeat it all here, since we have gone over such matters in the commentaries on both LOTR and The Silmarillion. But it amazes even him how his simple dedication to his mission only using what he had to hand should be taken up by Providence and made to produce such wondrous results. So much of what was accomplished laid beyond his control. He simply had to do what he was able and trust that Providence would use it to higher ends. And so it came to be by the One who meant for Bilbo and Frodo to have the Ring for a time and who meant for Gandalf to guide them. He would likewise say of Bilbo, “I dare say he was ‘chosen’ and I was only chosen to choose him; but I picked out Bilbo” (345). These are the sorts of things he would discuss with those in the West to explore the subtle work of Providence in his choices, through his choices, and beyond his choices.
Also in retrospect, Frodo can have a better grasp of what Gandalf meant in the conversation Gandalf referenced. He recognizes more clearly how he and Bilbo were chosen for higher purposes. And so we see him speak similarly of his quest with an understanding of Gandalf’s mission, “Though I suppose that, whether meant or not, Bilbo might have refused to leave home, and so might I. You could not compel us. You were not even allowed to try. But I am still curious to know why you did what you did, as you were then, an old grey man as you seemed” (344). The same issue could be raised about other chosen ones throughout history. It will remain unclear in fact if they could have said “no” to the calls placed on their life, or if a “no” would have only delayed their arrival at the fulfillment of God’s will. Answers to such queries in theory will necessarily depend on larger assumptions about how divine sovereignty works, the character of our volition, and so on.
We cannot hope to delve into such matters adequately here, but Frodo is at least of the view that he could, in principle, have refused to do what needed to be done. Gandalf, ever faithful to his mission, was not permitted to compel him to do otherwise. Both were willing agents of Providence. At the same time, these choices were not isolated. Frodo might have made choices to become less like Bilbo, and fear can always be a powerful motivator against what needs to be done, but to choose other than he had would have meant going against his character formed through his years of living with Bilbo, through his upbringing, and through all that shaped him therein. Gandalf might have chosen to abandon his mission, as Saruman adequately demonstrates was at least theoretically possible. But to make that choice at this moment would have been against his character in light of how he had been formed from before the time of creation, from his life in the Undying Lands (especially in learning from Nienna), and from his last 2,000 years in Middle-earth. And we have seen elsewhere in this commentary series on Tolkien’s works how Providence works through character formation and the cultivation of virtues.
Courage and Pity
This version also has a comment resembling this one from the prologue of LOTR:
ease and peace had left these people still curiously tough. They were, if it came to it, difficult to daunt or to kill; and they were, perhaps, so unwearyingly fond of good things not least because they could, when put to it, do without them, and could survive rough handling by grief, foe, or weather in a way that astonished those who did not know them well and looked no further than their bellies and their well-fed faces. (Prologue)
While this is a general statement, Gandalf’s comment is inspired by how remarkable he found the Hobbits during the Long Winter of TA 2758–2759: “They were very hard put to it then: one of the worst pinches they have been in, dying of cold, and starving in the dreadful dearth that followed. But that was the time to see their courage, and their pity one for another. It was by their pity as much as by their tough uncomplaining courage that they survived” (345). Both of these virtues are prominent in Tolkien’s mythos for reasons we have explored elsewhere, including in their theological associations. Such hard times were prime opportunities for not only showing what each individual was made of to do what needed to be done, but also showing how they cared for each other in enacting love, compassion, and mercy when it might have been advantageous to do otherwise.
Enslaved Will
The other story in this section relevant for our purposes is “The Hunt for the Ring.” This provides an expansion on certain details of events in LOTR. There is also included here a text about the relationship between Gandalf and Saruman in the days leading up to the Quest for Mount Doom.
The first interesting aspect of this story contrasts with how the servants of Providence operate willingly. The Ringwraiths were greatly empowered compared to what they were as mortal Men and their existence has been extended, but this was at a cost of truly living because it also came at a cost of having independent wills. Long ago, they fell for the deception of receiving a counterfeit immortality, of which Tolkien said in Letter #212, “To attempt by device or ‘magic’ to recover longevity is thus a supreme folly and wickedness of ‘mortals’. Longevity or counterfeit ‘immortality’ (true immortality is beyond Eä) is the chief bait of Sauron – it leads the small to a Gollum, and the great to a Ringwraith.” The Ringwraiths are thus even more extreme examples than Gollum of the self enslaved to sin as illustrated in Rom 7:14–25. As the narrator explains here, “They were by far the most powerful of his servants, and the most suitable for such a mission, since they were entirely enslaved to their Nine Rings, which he now himself held; they were quite incapable of acting against his will, and if one of them, even the Witch-king their captain, had seized the One Ring, he would have brought it back to his Master” (358).
Sauron’s intention, as embodied in the Ring, is enslaving others to his will by false promises of transcending creaturely limitations. While he offers certain benefits, they come at a much higher cost hidden from the slave. And because such slaves are extensions of Sauron’s will, they share in his weaknesses and oversights, such as the ignorance of knowing where the Shire is. Such ignorance, by the subtle operations of Providence, bought time for Frodo and his companions, without which Frodo would have been apprehended weeks sooner (357).
Saruman’s Dysfunctional Wisdom
Also of interest in this story is what we are told of Saruman. We see some hints of his tenuous position at this point in the story after he has betrayed the White Council but has also secretly been acting to betray Sauron if he could acquire the Ring for himself. In one version of this story, when he was made aware that the Nine Riders arrived seeking news from him, he thought for a moment to yield himself to Gandalf and seek his help against Sauron and his servants. But Saruman arrived to the summit of his tower to find Gandalf already gone, surmising that he had the help of the great Eagle he saw flying towards Edoras. We are thus told, “In his heart Saruman recognized the great power and the strange ‘good fortune’ that went with Gandalf” (361).
This is similar to how Saruman begrudgingly acknowledges that Frodo has grown in his quest, which is to say that he recognizes his sanctification (Letter #181). Here, the “good fortune” he recognizes is the operation of Providence (i.e., ultimately, of the One he knew before the world was made). But in both cases, his insight does him no good because it is overwhelmed by his pride. This ultimately makes his wisdom dysfunctional, not bearing the fruit that it should (in line with proverbs like we see in Prov 8:13; 11:2; 16:18; 29:23).
His wisdom is also made dysfunctional by his pettiness and envy, both of which are related to his pride. Although he was treated by the majority of the White Council as the head of his order, he himself knew Gandalf to be greater: “Saruman soon became jealous of Gandalf, and this rivalry turned at last to a hatred, the deeper for being concealed, and the more bitter in that Saruman knew in his heart that the Grey Wanderer had the greater strength, and the greater influence upon the dwellers in Middle-earth, even though he hid his power and desired neither fear nor reverence” (364). It was Gandalf’s fidelity to his mission, as opposed to the preference to order things according to his own will like Saruman, that gave him greater influence. And we have seen elsewhere, particularly in The Silmarillion how his learning from others, particularly Nienna, made him greater in power by making him more like his Creator. And because he was more like his Creator, he did not desire the reverence due only to the One.
It was because of Gandalf’s interest in the Shire that Saruman took an interest, though he sought to conceal that from Gandalf. He had even mocked Gandalf for his fondness for pipe-weed, but secretly he tried it for himself and found that he enjoyed it. And because he mocked Gandalf for this, he did not want this newfound habit to be known to others, lest his pride be hurt by the scorn of others for his hypocrisy. But this was for nothing, because Gandalf knew of his visits and said nothing, “for it was never his wish that any one should be put to shame” (366). Likewise, because of his pride, he could not understand how Gandalf, one of the Great like him, “could concern himself with such a people as the Halflings for their own sake merely” (367). But that was precisely the case for Gandalf. Moreover, he knew the wisdom of his Creator that he had his ways of exalting the humble and humbling the exalted, a motif we also see throughout Scripture (1 Sam 2:1–10; Pss 9:11–14, 17–20; 10:1–4; 12:1–5; 14:6; 18:25–29; 22:26; 25:9, 16–18; 37:14; 69:30–33; 140:12; 147:6; 149:4; Isa 11:4; 29:19; 61:1; Zeph 2:3; Matt 5:3, 5; 18:4; 23:12; Luke 6:20; 14:11; 18:14; Phil 2:1–11; 3:21; Jas 1:9; 4:6–10; 1 Pet 5:5–6). As Tolkien himself said in Letter #163:
Anyway I myself saw the value of Hobbits, in putting earth under the feet of ‘romance’, and in providing subjects for ‘ennoblement’ and heroes more praiseworthy than the professionals: nolo heroizari [I do not wish to be a hero] is of course as good a start for a hero, as nolo episcopari [I do not wish to be a bishop] for a bishop. Not that I am a ‘democrat’ in any of its current uses; except that I suppose, to speak in literary terms, we are all equal before the Great Author, qui deposuit potentes de sede et exaltavit humiles [Luke 1:52].