Faculty of Arts and Philosophy 2006-2007

A MYTHOLOGY FOR ENGLAND

OR A MODERN NOVEL?

A study of interacting chronotopes in J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings

Supervisors: Prof. Dr. Gert Buelens Prof. Dr. Bart Keunen

Dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of ‘Licentiaat in de Taal - en Letterkunde: Germaanse Talen’ by Bert Raman

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Table of contents ........................................................................................................................ 1

Acknowledgements ....................................................................................................................3

PART 1 | INTRODUCTION.........................................................................................................4 1. The importance of The Lord of the Rings as a lasting classic ......................................................5 2. A possible explanation for its lasting appeal .................................................................................5 3. A blind spot in Tolkien criticism? ...................................................................................................6 4. Theoretical framework ...................................................................................................................7 5. Structure ........................................................................................................................................9

PART 2 | ANALYSIS ..................................................................................................................11

CHAPTER 1 | THE IDYLLIC CHRONOTOPE : AN IMPORTANT PRESENCE THROUGHOUT THE NOVEL ......................................12 1. The beginning of LOTR : an illustration of the idyllic chronotope as described by Bakhtin ........12

1.1. Time: cyclical natural processes..........................................................................................12 1.1.1. Unified time of the collective ethos ............................................................................12 1.1.2. The cyclicity of natural rhythm ...................................................................................13

1.2. Space: an isolated and closed system ................................................................................15 2. The recurrence of the idyllic chronotope throughout the book....................................................17

2.1. Birthdays as indexes of the seasonal rhythm of idyllic time ................................................17 2.2. References to the initial idyllic situation...............................................................................19

2.2.1. Longing for a return to the idyllic space .....................................................................20 2.2.2. The Shire remains a point of reference......................................................................20 2.2.3. The Shire as an ontological ground for identity .........................................................22

2.3. Idyllic spaces functioning as havens along the road ...........................................................22 2.3.1. Space .........................................................................................................................23

2.3.1.1. Geographical isolation.......................................................................................23 2.3.1.2. Harmony, perfection and water.........................................................................25

2.3.2. Time ...........................................................................................................................27 2.3.2.1. The time of productive growth: from continuity across generations to the

immortality of the individual...............................................................................27 2.3.2.2. Conflicting experiences of time .........................................................................29 2.3.2.3. The land of Tom Bombadil: celebration of the seasonal cycles .......................31 2.3.2.4. Rivendell and Lothlórien: living in an eternal past ............................................32 2.3.2.5. Fangorn: two distinctive features of time ..........................................................34

2.3.2.5.1. The long view of the Ents .......................................................................34 2.3.2.5.2. Historical inversion .................................................................................36

CHAPTER 2 | MYTHICAL ROOTS : THE MISSION CHRONOTOPE .......................39 1. Classical approaches to the mythical elements in LOTR............................................................39 2. The mission chronotope : rooted in the mythical chronotope .....................................................40

2.1. Mission chronotope and eschatology ..................................................................................40 2.2. The epic story as part of a larger mythical structure ...........................................................41 2.3. The eschaton and eucatastrophe: when the mythical roots come to the surface ...............45

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2.3.1. Theoretical framework................................................................................................45 2.3.2. Concrete realisation of the eschaton .........................................................................47

2.4. Making the mythical past tangible: synchronism and historicity..........................................50

CHAPTER 3 | REACHING TOWARDS MODERNITY: THE DIALOGICAL CHRONOTOPE OF THE BILDUNGSROMAN ............................54 1. Introduction..................................................................................................................................54 2. The plot of emergence and its relation to the environment .........................................................55

2.1. Emergence in a cyclical environment ..................................................................................56 2.1.1. The problematic nature of the cyclical environment ...................................................56 2.1.2. Modification of the cyclical environment .....................................................................58

2.1.2.1. The chronotope of the provincial town ..............................................................58 2.1.2.2. From pre-scribed pattern of emergence to social exploration ..........................59

2.2. Emergence in the changing environment of Middle-earth...................................................62 3. The Bildungsroman and modernity .............................................................................................66

3.1. Mobility and homelessness .................................................................................................67 3.2. Constructing an identity .......................................................................................................68

3.2.1. Changing landscapes: a multiplicity of worldviews.....................................................68 3.2.2. The Changing Hero ....................................................................................................69 3.2.3. Archetype or Character?.............................................................................................71

3.3. Interiorization and socialisation ...........................................................................................72 3.3.1. Interiorization ..............................................................................................................72 3.3.2. Socialisation................................................................................................................74

CHAPTER 4 | THE SCOURING OF THE SHIRE : DOUBLE USE OF THE IDYLLIC CHRONOTOPE AT THE END OF LOTR........ 76 1. Introduction..................................................................................................................................76 2. Restoration of the initial idyll (mission-chronotope).....................................................................77

2.1. Anticipation of the restoration: the road back home............................................................77 2.2. The boon that restores the world.........................................................................................79 2.3. A successful invocation of the idyllic chronotope ................................................................81

3. Exceeding the initial idyllic chronotope (chronotope of emergence)...........................................84 4. Readings are not mutually exclusive...........................................................................................85 5. Consequences for the moral of the story ....................................................................................87

5.1. The mission chronotope ......................................................................................................88 5.1.1. The Shire as a source of morality ...............................................................................88 5.1.2. The individuum as embodiment and saviour of the community religion....................88 5.1.3. Conservative moral: back to how it was .....................................................................90

5.2. The dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman ................................................................93 5.2.1. Irony: undermining moral authority .............................................................................93 5.2.2. Frodo: not an individuum but an individual .................................................................94 5.2.3. Moral of forgiveness ...................................................................................................95

PART 3 | CONCLUSION ...........................................................................................................98

PART 4 | BIBLIOGRAPHY .....................................................................................................101

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank all the people who helped and supported me in writing this

thesis. First and foremost, thanks go to my supervisors: Professor Dr. Bart Keunen

for encouraging words and insightful comments on the contents of this text; and

Professor Dr. Gert Buelens for meticulous proofreading and constructive feedback

on the form of the text. I am grateful to Tessa en Ruth for their advice on the lay-

out. Thanks also go to my family and friends, for their concern and support. Special

thanks go to my father, who was always there for feedback, and who has spent a

lot of time trying to get the lay-out just right.

Thank you all!

Bert Raman

Ghent, July 2007

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PART 1 | INTRODUCTION

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1. THE IMPORTANCE OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS AS A LASTING CLASSIC

Since its first publication in 1954-55, The Lord of the Rings has managed to establish itself

as a lasting classic. The book is widely read –or at least widely bought, as the sales

figures show- and widely loved: it frequently scores very high in readers’ polls1. Peter

Jackson’s movie adaptation has given the Tolkien craze a new boost, and the popularity of

the books endures into the twenty-first century.

Tolkien’s work has also proved to be important as a source of inspiration for a whole group

of writers. LOTR2 was the start of a new branch within fantasy which would grow to be

very successful: heroic fantasy (Shippey 2000: xviii). According to Atterby, the importance

of LOTR to the genre of fantasy cannot be overestimated: ‘with the publication and popular

acceptance of Tolkien’s version of the fantastic, a new coherence was given to the genre.’

(Atterby 1992: 14)

Finally, Tolkien’s work has also grown to be a popular subject for literary research. If

fantasy was once rejected by literary scholars as a serious domain of study, this has

changed drastically over the last decades. People like Darko Suvin have pleaded

zealously for a democratisation of literary studies that would take the form of including

fantasy within its remit. That such a democratisation is gradually becoming a reality is

clearly illustrated by several bibliographies, which offer a long list of scholarly works on

Tolkien (Drout 2000).

Critics and scholars have furthermore reacted to Tolkien’s work in a wide variety of ways.

(Walker 1973: 3) If a potential for critical debate is an indication of the richness of art, then

Tolkien’s fiction is worth looking at more closely.

2. A POSSIBLE EXPLANATION FOR ITS LASTING APPEAL

What could be a possible explanation for the novel’s success? Many critics have pointed

to the imaginary world of Middle-earth which Tolkien meticulously created, complete with

its geography, inhabitants and legends. It cannot be denied that this imaginary world

appeals to many people: Middle-earth lives on in cyberspace in various roleplaying games,

1 We here refer to Joseph Pearce, as quoted in Sippey (2000: xx), who has examined the position

of The Lord of the Rings in the reader’s polls of 1996. That year, The Lord of the Rings had won the BBC/Waterstone’s poll. In an attempt to change this result, the poll was repeated by the Daily Telegraph and the television programme Bookworm, but to no avail, as the result was yet again the same. 2 I will frequently refer to The Lord of the Rings by the acronym LOTR.

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and moreover, it is the subject of what has come to be called ‘Middle-earth Studies’ (Drout

2005: 15).

Shippey, however, has rightfully pointed out that the novel’s ‘continuing appeal rests not

[exclusively] on mere charm or strangeness’, but that it is also the result of ‘a deeply

serious response to […] the major issues of [Tolkien’s] century.’ (Shippey 2000: ix) LOTR

should be read not only as a ‘mythology for England’, written by a professor of Anglo-

Saxon, but also as the work of a twentieth-century author. The novel unmistakably

addresses modern themes, such as the origin of evil, existential questions about human

existence and cultural relativity.

It is my conviction that this dual orientation of the novel provides an important explanation

for its popularity. LOTR takes the form of an epic, which is rooted in a mythical structure,

but at the same time branches out towards modernity. On the one hand it offers the

strange world of knights in armour, dragons and hobbits, which stimulates the reader’s

imagination; on the other hand, it thematises the development of a modern hero, which

makes the story not only more relevant to the modern reader, but moreover facilitates the

process of identification with the main character. Frodo works as a bridging element

between the modern reader and the mythical world. I believe that this cocktail of mythical

and modern elements strongly contributes to the lasting appeal of the trilogy.

3. A BLIND SPOT IN TOLKIEN CRITICISM ? Although research has been conducted on both the mythical and modern elements in

LOTR, there is a wide gap between both research traditions. Drout perceives a chasm

‘which closely matches larger divides in contemporary criticism between medievalists and

specialists in later (particularly twentieth-century) literatures’ (Drout 2005: 15).

This is very unfortunate for two reasons. Firstly, it is a missed opportunity. Both groups of

scholars seem to be blind to each other’s findings, while the results of their research would

certainly benefit from an interest in the work that is performed in the other field. Secondly,

and more importantly, this bigoted perspective entails a real danger. In their efforts to fit

LOTR into one specific literary current (either epic or modern), some of these scholars

tend to disregard or even distort certain parts of the actual text of LOTR. One example,

which is striking because it returns in several studies and moreover concerns a central

point in the story, is the destruction of the Ring. Some scholars make the case that LOTR

is a classical epic, and support this claim with the evidence that Frodo is a mythical hero

who destroys the Ring. Yet the text is very clear on this point: Gollum, not Frodo, destroys

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the Ring. This is a textual fact which cannot be explained from a limited perspective that

focuses solely on mythical and epic aspects of the novel.

It is therefore desirable that a reading of Tolkien takes into account both the mythical and

modern elements of the text. Once the presence of both is acknowledged, a next step

could be to try and establish the relationship between both elements, and investigate the

ways in which they interact.

4. THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK This text will try to formulate an answer to the question of how LOTR combines modern

and mythical elements in one story. To be able to do this, we first have to clearly group

and isolate these elements, in order to subsequently investigate how they are combined in

one text. A very fruitful way of approaching this matter is the concept of ‘chronotope’, as

developed by Bakhtin, and elaborated by Keunen.

A chronotope is ‘a unit of analysis for studying texts according to the ratio and nature of

temporal and spatial categories.’ (Bakhtin 1981: 425-26) Literally translated, a chronotope

is a ‘time-space’; it is a ‘tijd-ruimtelijke constellatie’ which is conceived as a ‘mentale

eenheid die de ruggengraat van het schrijf- en leesproces vormt.’ (Keunen 2005: 8). An

essential aspect of Bakhtin’s theory is that time and space are equally important: they are

closely interconnected, and the one cannot exist without the other.

In the literary artistic chronotope, spatial and temporal indicators are fused into one carefully thought-out, concrete whole. Time, as it were, thickens, takes on flesh, becomes artistically visible; likewise, space becomes charged and responsive to the movements of time, plot and history. (Bakhtin 1981a: 84)

This perspective implies a radical break with classical narratology. Space is studied as an

explicitly ‘procesmatige, temporele verschijning’ (Keunen 2007b: 19).

In other words, the emphasis of ‘Bakhtinian’ research lies on ‘de chronotopische

constructie die door schrijvers en lezers met de tekst in kwestie wordt geassocieerd.’

Consequently ‘[zijn] het soort agent en het soort actie die gestalte krijgen in het verhaal,

steeds relatief […] ten opzichte van het soort wereldbeeld [of chronotoop]’ (Keunen 2005:

6). A chronotope informs a specific type of hero or action. In this text, our discussion of a

specific chronotope will initially focus on the spatial and temporal dimensions, but this

perspective will always broaden to include the hero and his actions.

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Bakhtin’s concept of the chronotope has a wide range of applicability. This can cause

confusion with the reader of Bakhtin’s work. It is Keunen’s merit that he has systematically

described the different ways in which the concept can be used.

Keunen distinguishes three different uses of chronotopes, depending on the degree of

abstraction. These are: ‘actieruimte-chronotopen, plotruimte-chronotopen en wereldbeeld-

chronotopen’ (Keunen 2007b: 8). Each of these chronotopes stimulates our imagination on

a different level. As all three types of chronotopes are addressed in this study, it is

appropriate to briefly discuss them here.

The ‘actieruimte-chronotoop’ refers to ‘een gebeurtenis in een min of meer visualiseerbare

ruimte’ (Keunen 2007b: 8). This is the chronotope in its most concrete form. The image of

several generations which are all seated at the family dinner table is an example of the

physical representation of the idyllic chronotope. Most of these tangible images, however,

also function on a higher level: ‘literaire ruimtebeelden bezitten een surplus aan betekenis

– een symbolische betekenis’ (Keunen 2007b: 24). On a higher and more complex level of

the reader’s imagination, the dinner table from the example above will evoke a sense of

peace and harmony. This way, the ‘actieruimte-chronotoop’ can function within the

overarching ‘plotruimte-chronotoop’.

The ‘plotruimte-chronotoop’ concerns ‘een tijdsontwikkeling in de abstracte totaliteit van de

fictionele wereld’ (Keunen 2007b: 24). These chronotopes describe the structure of the

story in its totality. This structure is essentially nothing more than the alternation between

moments of equilibrium and disequilibrium (which take the form of ‘actieruimte-

chronotopen’).

The two ‘plotruimte-chronotopen’ that are of central importance in this study are the

mission chronotope, the structure of which can be described as a period of conflict

(disequilibrium) which is framed between two moments of harmony (equilibrium); and the

dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman, which is constructed as a complex network of

competing structures.

On the one hand the focus will be on the concrete aspects of these ‘plotruimte-

chronotopen’, as they will be described by means of their typical ‘actieruimte-chronotopen’.

On the other hand, the focus will also shift towards the abstract level, with the study of the

overarching structure, and its moral implications.

This brings us to the third level of abstraction, which Keunen distinguishes within the

concept: the ‘wereldbeeld-chronotopen’. ‘Werelbeeld-chronotopen’ are an ‘abstracte

filosofische voorstelling omtrent de morele implicaties van de geschetste gebeurtenissen’

(Keunen 2007b: 11). Here the concept of the chronotope is lifted to its highest level of

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abstraction: it is a means to trace the moral message and worldview that is contained

within the story.

Keunen’s distinction between different levels of abstraction allows him to interpret an

enigmatic quote from Bakhtin. Bakhtin states that interaction between chronotopes is

possible. This interaction is dialogical in nature. The dialogue, however, ‘cannot enter into

the world represented in the work, nor into any of the chronotopes represented in it: it is

outside the world represented, although not outside the work as a whole.’ (Bakhtin 1981a:

252)

The key to this puzzle is the different levels of abstraction: ‘actieruimte-chronotopen’

function autonomously, but at the same time they enter into a dialogical relationship, as

they interact with the ‘plotruimte-chronotoop’. Keunen describes the result as follows:

Op het niveau van de plotruimte ontstaat er een tweede verhaal, dat de visualiseerbare actieruimtes (“the world represented in the work”) op zich niet aantast, maar dat evenmin buiten het kunstwerk staat. (Keunen 2007b: 41)

This perspective will form the basis for our exploration of the relationships among

chronotopes in LOTR.

If we reformulate the central goal of this text in the terminology of Bakhtin, we could say

that our aim is to explore how the three different chronotopes (idyllic, mission- and

dialogical chronotope) manifest themselves in the story, and how they interact with each

other.

5. STRUCTURE In chapter one, the focus lies with the idyllic chronotope. This chronotope is omnipresent in

LOTR. First, we will see how the idyllic space is depicted in the prologue, and we will

subsequently look at the different ways in which it recurs throughout the novel: birthdays

which function as indexes of idyllic time, repeated references to the idyllic homeland, and

the many different idyllic spaces that function as havens along the road.

In chapter two, the focus shifts towards the mission chronotope, and as a result our

attention will mainly be directed at the mythical elements in LOTR. After a brief discussion

of the classical approaches to the mythical elements of the novel, we will see how the

concept of the mission chronotope provides new insights in the relation between epic and

myth: we will be able to situate the structure of LOTR in a greater mythical structure, and

we will see how the mythical past is made tangible in the present.

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Chapter three deals with the third and last chronotope that is analysed in this study: the

dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman. In the first part of this chapter, we focus on

the pattern of emergence, which is typical of the hero in the Bildungsroman, and we will

pay special attention to the difference between emergence in a cyclical environment on

the one hand, and emergence in the changing environment of Middle-earth on the other.

The second part of the chapter will focus on the link between the Bildungsroman and

modernity. Three elements will be highlighted which are typical of modernity: mobility and

homelessness, identity construction, socialisation.

The three different chronotopes are brought together in chapter four, which focuses on the

ending of LOTR. It will become apparent that the ending can be read in two different ways,

depending on the place the reader attributes to the idyllic space in the overall structure of

the novel. A reading which starts from the mission chronotope will find that the initial idyll is

restored at the end, whereas a dialogical reading is bound to conclude that the initial idyllic

space is opened up or even destroyed. This observation will prove to be important to

establish the moral of the story, as both readings carry a different moral.

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PART 2 | ANALYSIS

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CHAPTER 1 | THE IDYLLIC CHRONOTOPE : AN IMPORTANT PRESENCE THROUGHOUT THE NOVEL

The significance of the idyll in the development of the novel is, as we have already said, enormous. Its importance as an underlying image has not been understood and appreciated up to this day, and in consequence all perspectives on the history of the novel have been distorted.

(Bakhtin 1981a: 228)

Bakhtin rightfully stresses that the importance of the idyllic chronotope cannot be

overestimated. The idyll is omnipresent in literary works as an underlying image and works

as an organising centre that helps to structure the plot. This is also the case in LOTR.

Idyllic spaces function differently in the mission chronotope than in the dialogical

chronotope. They moreover play a central role in determining the moral of the story. For a

good understanding of the book it is therefore crucial to investigate and map the idyllic

elements with great care.

Firstly, the characteristics of the idyllic chronotope will be discussed with reference to the

hobbit society as it is described in the prologue of LOTR. The second part of this chapter

will focus on the various ways in which the idyllic chronotope recurs throughout the story.

1. THE BEGINNING OF LOTR : AN ILLUSTRATION OF THE IDYLLIC CHRONOTOPE AS DESCRIBED BY BAKHTIN

The concept of the idyllic chronotope as defined by Bakhtin will be approached from two

directions. The centre of attention will first be the dimension of time, and the focus will

subsequently shift to the spatial dimension. It will soon become apparent that both

dimensions are closely interconnected. They furthermore offer a lot of information on a

third aspect, which is implicitly present, but is never treated separately: the collective

community of the idyll.

The theoretical insights of Bakhtin will be developed in close relation to the specific case of

the Shire.

1.1. Time: cyclical natural processes 1.1.1. Unified time of the collective ethos It is very hard to find a pure example of unified time in literature. Stories essentially evolve

around a plot, and thus inevitably destroy unified time: ‘When [time] was appropriated for

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the making of plots, it bifurcated’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 208). Bakhtin here develops an

opposition between ‘plots of history’ on the one hand, which he associates with unified

time and a collective ethos; and ‘plots of personal life’ on the other, which is the time of

personal events in the life of the private individual.3 In the idyllic chronotope, ‘time is

collective’, and should therefore be ‘differentiated and measured only by the events of

collective life’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 206). Through the insertion of a prologue, Tolkien creates a

space which is determined by collective time, even in its strictest interpretation. The

prologue is detached from the actual story, and does not engage with the plot.4 It is

concerned with a description of the hobbit-race in general, and keeps away from individual

matters. The writer is mainly concerned with geography and habits, and stresses

continuity: ‘estates, farms, workshops, and small trades tended to remain unchanged for

generations.’ (Lotr, 9) However, continuity must not be mistaken for stasis. The prologue

clearly suggests ‘a time of productive growth’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 207), in its impressionistic

sketch of the history of the hobbits. This history strongly emphasises continual growth. If

exceptional events, such as an invasion of wolves, or a famine, do surface, they are

directly recuperated by the overarching dynamic of productive growth. The perspective is

not that of the individual, but that of the people of the Shire, a perspective that reaches

across generations. As a result, ‘single items that perish are neither individualized nor

isolated; they are lost in the whole growing and multiplying mass of new lives.’ (Bakhtin

1981a: 207) Death and decay can be seen as sowing, which is followed by ripening and

harvest. In this way, hobbits ‘prospered and multiplied after the Dark Plague’ (Lotr, 5) just

like they overcame the ‘Days of Dearth’ (Lotr, 5) and soon again became accustomed to

plenty.

1.1.2. The cyclicity of natural rhythm Human life and nature are perceived in the same categories (Bakhtin 1981a: 208). Hence

the time of the collective ethos can easily be transposed to the level of natural cycles. This

natural rhythm is reflected in ‘categorical images’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 208) such as the

seasons, waxing and waning of the moon, day and night, stages in the lives of all living

3 One way to reconcile ‘plots of history’ and ‘plots of personal life’, and at the same time link the

cyclical time of the idyll with the linear time of the quest, can be the use of an individuum. According to Bakhtin (1981a: 218), ‘Individuums are representatives of the social whole, events of their lives coincide with the events of the life of the social whole, and the significance of such events (on the individual as well as on the social plane) is identical. Internal form fuses with external: man is all on the surface. This way, a story can be concerned with the adventures of an individual, and at the same time stay true to the collective ethos. This idea is develloped more fully in chapter 3 : Sam, Merry and Pippin will be identified as individuums which represent the collective ethos of the Shire. 4 To be exact, the prologue consists of two parts: one part concerning ‘Hobbit-lore’ and a second

part which consists of a synopsis of ‘the Hobbit’. Here, we are only concerned with the first part, which is the description of the idyll. The second part is linked to the plot, and will therefore be treated in chapter III, which deals with the mission chronotope.

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things, such as birth, copulation and death, birthdays and much more beside. Hobbits

originally lived completely according to the natural rhythm:

It is recorded by the hobbits that they had no ‘week’ when they were still a wandering people, and though they had ‘months’, governed more or less by the Moon, their keeping of dates and calculations of time were vague and inaccurate. (Lotr, 1081)

This experience of time originates from a folkloric base. It is always connected to a

collective, work-oriented agricultural society (Bakhtin 1981a: 206). Hobbits are an example

of such an agricultural society. They ‘love good tilled earth: a well ordered and well-farmed

countryside was their favourite haunt’ (Lotr, 1). The land they inhabit is clearly farmland:

The land was rich and kindly, and though it had long been deserted when they entered in it, it had before been well tilled, and there the king had once had many farms, cornlands, vineyards and woods. (Lotr, 5)

Sam, as a gardener, symbolises the love of plants and living things. This attitude towards

nature is typical of the whole of the Shire. That is why gardeners are held in high esteem,

as Faramir rightly guesses: ‘Your land must be a realm of peace and content, and there

must gardeners be in high honour’ (Lotr, 666)

Later this organic experience of time was replaced by a more sophisticated calendar-

system, called ‘Shire Reckoning’. This is problematic if we stick to a very strict

interpretation of idyllic time, because unified time does not allow a ‘precise differentiation

of time into a present, a past and a future (which presumes an essential individuality as a

point of departure).’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 207). However, I would argue that this Shire

Reckoning supports the idyllic chronotope in various ways.

Firstly, in the prologue, the calendar-system does not serve as a backdrop against which

personal events are situated. Rather, it is used to describe the history of Hobbiton, and

evoke a sense of time which is characterized by ‘a general striving ahead’, which is typical

of folkloric time. (Bakhtin 1981a: 207)

Secondly, the Shire Reckoning underlines the insular perspective of the hobbits, as its use

is restricted to the Shire, and differs from the commonly accepted reckoning of the

Dunedain. Hobbits found their system ‘quite convenient at home, but not so convenient if

they ever travelled further than Bree.’ (Lotr, 1082) The calendar is completely oriented

towards the Shire, as it counts ‘as year 1 the year of the colonization of the Shire.’ (Lotr,

1080) In this way the idyllic time of the Shire is severed from the experience of time in the

surrounding countries. The hobbits passed ‘out of the history of men and elves.’ (Lotr, 4)

This isolation of the Shire is not limited to the level of time: it is also reflected as an

isolated space.

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1.2. Space: an isolated and closed system Bakhtin describes the idyllic space as

a little spatially limited world [in which] a sequence of generations is localised that is potentially without limits. (Bakhtin1981a: 225)

The closed space of the idyll, with its clear boundaries, is very important as it gives unity to

the many generations with which idyllic time is concerned. This idea is already reflected in

the housing of hobbits: ‘Many generations of relatives lived in (comparative) peace

together in one ancestral and many tunnelled mansion.’ (Lotr, 7) The ancestral mansion

could easily serve as a metaphor for the whole of Hobbiton.

As Bakhtin demands of an idyllic space, the Shire is ‘primarily defined by the unity of

place, by the age-old rooting of the life of generations to a single place [...]’ (Bakhtin

1981a: 225). Whole generations have been born, have grown up and have died in the

same spatial corner of the world. Every generation has looked upon the same river, the

same trees and the same Smials. A lot of importance is attached to enduring elements in

the environment (Keunen 2005: 80). Some examples of these enduring elements are the

borders of the Shire, which have remained unchanged since the colonisation of the Shire:

Forty leagues it stretched from the Far Downs to the Brandywine Bridge, and fifty from the northern moors to the marshes in the south. The hobbits named it the Shire […] (Lotr, 5)

The idyllic space is clearly delimited. We can speak of a closed system: ‘in that pleasant

corner of the world they plied their well ordered business of living, and they heeded less

and less the world outside where dark things moved’ (Lotr, 5) Here, the idyllic character of

the Shire is reinforced through an opposition with the threatening outside world. This

opposition is further underlined by the introduction of Guardians, people who were ignored

by the hobbits, but had in fact laboured for years to make the long peace of the Shire

possible. The borders of the Shire were also protected by the hobbits themselves. They

had Shirrifs whose job was ‘to see that Outsiders of any kind, great or small, did not make

themselves a nuisance.’ (Lotr, 10)

The spatial delimitation of the idyll is repeated in the psyche of the hobbits. A hobbit’s

world view might best be described as insular. ‘[Hobbits] meddled not at all with events in

the world outside.’ (Lotr, 4) The typical hobbit indifference to the outside world is displayed

in a striking way in their cartography: ‘Maps made in the Shire showed mostly white

spaces beyond its borders.’ (Lotr, 42) This narrow-minded view of the hobbit-community is

16

sometimes ironised by the narrator: ‘Giants and other portents on the borders were

forgotten for more important matters: Mr. Frodo was selling Bag End [...]’ 5 (Lotr, 65)

If hobbits are not concerned with drawing out maps of the outside world, they delight in

drawing up elaborate family trees. The importance of kinship relations is not to be

underestimated: the family trees of Frodo, Merry, Pippin and Sam are important enough to

be included in the book as an appendix. A hobbit is always seen as being part of a bigger

group, be it a family or a generation: ‘All hobbits were in any case clannish and reckoned

up their relationships with great care.’ (Lotr, 7)

Social ties are further strengthened by a sophisticated system of handing out presents on

one’s birthday:

Hobbits give presents to people on their own birthdays. Not very expensive ones, as a rule, [...] Actually in Hobbiton and Bywater every day in the year it was somebody’s birthday, so that every hobbit in those parts had a chance of at least one present at least once a week. (Lotr, 27)

The pleasure of getting a present has very little to do with the qualities of the present itself,

as the gift is generally not expensive. Rather, the pleasure seems to coincide with a

feeling of belonging; of being accepted. Through handing out gifts, one recognises people

as being part of a social whole.

Finally, the importance of the social body is also reflected in the hobbits’ love of food.

According to Bakhtin (1981a: 227), ‘Food and drink partake of a nature that is social or,

more often, family; all generations and all age groups come together around the table.’

Excessive love of food is one of the characteristics which set hobbits apart from other

races: ‘And laugh they did, and eat, and drink, often and heartily, being fond of simple

jests at all times, and of six meals a day (when they could get them).’ (Lotr, 2) Even when

the hobbits set out on their quest, food and feasting remain very important. Shippey offers

a list of their meals, which includes ‘Yellow cream, honeycomb, and white bread and

butter’, ‘hot soup, cold meats, a blackberry tart, new loaves, slabs of butter, and half a ripe

cheese’, not to mention the elves’ ‘fruits sweet as wildberries and richer than the tended

fruits of gardens’ and Farmer Maggot’s ‘mighty dish of mushrooms and bacon’’ (Shippey

2000: 65). If love of food is indeed an indication of a collective orientation, then we can

safely conclude that the hobbit community is a collective society.6

5 The insular perspective which dominates Hobbiton will later prove very important, when we look at

LOTR from the perspective of the Bildungsroman (chapter III). It will become apparent that part of the Bildungsroman-type development pertains to the hero’s confrontation with different world views and different cultures; which will eventually result in the hero questioning and ultimately leaving behind his initial world view. 6 The collective aspect of hobbit-society of course needs nuance. In a collective community,

everybody should be equal. Yet a distinction is made between the poor and the rich: ‘it was, as a rule, only the richest and poorest hobbits that maintained the old custom [of living in a hole]. (Lotr,6) Likewise the master-servant relationship between Frodo and Sam seems hardly indicative of a collective society. Yet the relationship between Frodo and Sam does not symbolise class division.

17

2. THE RECURRENCE OF THE IDYLLIC CHRONOTOPE THROUGHOUT THE BOOK

The hobbits leave the Shire in chapter V of book one, only to return some nine hundred

pages later at the end of the novel. During the quest, our heroes are completely cut off

from their homes. Only two times do they get information about the Shire, and even then

only in an indirect way. The first time the hobbits learn something about the Shire, is when

Sam looks in the mirror of Galadriel and sees the destruction of Hobbiton. However,

Galadriel warns the hobbits that the visions in the mirror are not reliable. The second time

the hobbits learn something about their beloved Shire, is when they find pipe-weed in the

storage rooms of Orthanc. This suggests that Saruman has had dealings with people in

the Shire, and the hobbits fear that he has been causing mischief in the Shire. Again, this

is mere speculation, and no definite information about the Shire is provided. These

observations might lead the reader to conclude that the initial idyllic situation disappears

as soon as the hobbits leave the Shire and is completely absent during the quest, only to

return at the very end. However, this is not the case.

Though the initial idyllic situation moves to the background during the quest, it is not

completely absent, but repeatedly resurfaces. This happens in three main ways. Firstly,

the idyllic ideas survive in the concept of birthdays. Secondly, the idyllic space remains

present through repeated reference to idyllic home of the hobbits. Lastly, we will see how

the refuges along the road function as idyllic islands.

2.1. Birthdays as indexes of the seasonal rhythm of idyllic time In what way can a birthday celebration be interpreted as an exponent of the cyclical

rhythmicality of idyllic time? According to Bakhtin, the cyclical rhythm of nature is

thematised in literature through the use of ‘categorical images’ , which structure both

‘individual life, and the life of nature (in its agricultural aspect)’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 208).

Bakhtin sums up a number of these categorical images. Some of these have been

ritualised, and are celebrated : copulation (marriage), pregnancy (celebrations of birth),

ripening (initiation rites) and death (burial). These ‘ritual festivities’7 are a sociological

mirror in which the regularity of natural cycles is reflected. Although neither Bakhtin nor

Keunen explicitly mentions birthdays, we can safely posit that Birthday-celebrations are

Rather, it stands for ‘the breakdown of Victorian class divisions’. Frodo crosses the social divide through his relationship with Sam (Chance, quoted in Kleinman 2005: 145) 7 This is my own translation of the Dutch term ‘rituele feestelijkheden‘ used by Keunen (Keunen

2005: 79). Keunen does not include birthdays in his list of ritual festivities, but neither does he claim the list to be exhaustive. He enlists: ‘oogstfeesten, initiatiefeesten, huwelijksfeesten en geboortefeesten’ (Keunen 2005:79).

18

ritual festivities, and as such refer to the cyclical rhythmicality of idyllic time. Firstly, the

celebration refers to a stage in the cycle of growth and decay: birth.8 Secondly, the annual

recurrence of this celebration is a further evocation of nature’s cyclicity. Here we can refer

to Walker, who stresses ‘the reiterative force of birthdays, their ambivalent significance as

reminders of birth and progressions towards death’. (Walker 1973: 77)

Birthdays are very important to hobbits. It is no accident that the first chapter of The Lord

of the Rings opens with the announcement of Bilbo’s birthday party.

When Mr Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. (Lotr, 21)

We find many other indications of the importance of birthdays. When Bilbo proposed to

adopt Frodo, he used their shared birthday as an argument to persuade him: ‘“You had

better come and live here, Frodo my lad,” said Bilbo one day; “and then we can celebrate

our birthday-parties comfortably together.”’ (Lotr, 21). After Bilbo’s departure, Frodo keeps

up ‘the custom of giving Bilbo’s Birthday Party year after year’ (Lotr, 41) , and as it is the

habit among hobbits to hand out gifts on one’s birthday, every hobbit is confronted with

birthdays ‘at least once a week’ (Lotr, 27). A last indication is Gollum (a hobbit once), who

refers to the Ring as his ‘birthday present’ (Lotr, 55).

Birthdays often coincide with important moments in the story. Take Gollum, who came into

the possession of the Ring on the day of his birthday (Lotr, 52), or Elanor, the daughter of

Sam, is born the day the Fourth Age begins in the reckoning of Gondor (Lotr, 1071). As

Walker (1973:77) rightly points out, that day is also the first birthday of the fall of Sauron

(Lotr, 931). The birthday of Elanor symbolises a new beginning, as it is the day on which

‘the New Year will always now begin’ (Lotr, 931). The third and last illustration is the

shared birthday of Bilbo and Frodo. This birthday is linked with departure in three places in

the novel. The first time, it is the day of the long expected party, the day Bilbo leaves for

Rivendell. Apart from its importance in the evolution of the story, this day is of special

importance to each of the birthday boys:

Bilbo was going to be eleventy-one, 111, a rather curious number […]; and Frodo was going to be thirty-three, 33, an important number: ‘the date of his coming of age’ (Lotr, 22)

The second time their birthday marks a significant stage in the story, it is the day on which

Frodo intends to leave the Shire.

8 Birth is also recognised by Bakhtin as an element of the matrix of idyllic societies. This matrix

includes: love, birth, death, marriage, labour, food and drink and stages of growth. (Bakhtin 1981a: 225)

19

He had indeed privately made up his mind to leave on his fiftieth birthday: Bilbo’s one hundred and twenty-eighth. It seemed somehow the proper day on which to set out and follow him. (Lotr, 64)

Again, this birthday is not like any other birthday; it has a special meaning to Frodo: ‘fifty

was a number that he felt was somehow significant (or ominous); it was at any rate at that

age that adventure had suddenly befallen Bilbo.’ (Lotr, 42)

The last time the birthday of Bilbo and Frodo marks an important stage in the story, is

when the two hobbits leave Middle-earth.

‘I have passed the Old Took today! So that’s settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?’ ‘Yes, I am coming,’ said Frodo. (Lotr, 1006)

Again, this day has an importance on the personal level9. It is the day that Bilbo has

surpassed the old Took, which means he is now the oldest hobbit who ever walked

Middle-earth. This idea of rivalry between the two had already been introduced at the very

beginning of the book (Lotr, 22), and resurfaced at several points in the story.

Birthdays are not only linked with important moments in the story, they also coincide with

significant dates in cycles of nature and astrology (Walker 1973: 77). September 22 is not

only Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday; it is also the autumnal equinox. It is not a coincidence that

the other significant birthday, Elanor’s, is March 25, the vernal equinox.

We can thus conclude that Tolkien, through his special use of birthdays, connects the plot

of the story with cycles in nature. Walker uses the term ‘organic plot’ (Walker 1973: 226) to

describe this narrative, which ‘resonates with deeper rhythms of life.’ (Walker1973: 77)

2.2. References to the initial idyllic situation Tolkien refers to the idyllic space in three main ways. The first strategy is very

straightforward and consists of characters who voice their desire to return to their idyllic

homes. Secondly, the Shire remains present, as it functions as a point of reference to the

hobbits. They judge situations and evaluate objects according to the criteria of their

homeland. Lastly, the idyll functions as an ontological ground for the identity of the hobbits.

9 Birthdays mark major events in the history of the Ring and Middle-earth. Yet to the hobbits the

relevance of the dates to their own personal lives is just as important, if not more important. This can be interpreted as an additional example of the insular viewpoint so typical of hobbits .

20

2.2.1. Longing for a return to the idyllic space The most common way for the idyll to manifest itself during the quest, is as the subject of

the main protagonists’ desires. During their hardships, the hobbits often fantasise about

the Shire, and wish that they were back again in their country, far away from the dangers

and complexities of the outside world. Malpas has also noted this: ‘[The] journey will be

bearable given that there is always the possibility of imaginative recourse to the stability of

a home that retains its life-sustaining virtues irrespective of the threats and difficulties of

the protagonist’s unhomeliness’ (Malpas 2005: 96). Frodo says at his departure:

I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again. (Lotr, 61)

During his quest, in times of hardship, Frodo will think back to this foothold. His thoughts in

the mines of Moria are an illustration of this:

But now his thoughts had been carried away from the dark Mines, to Rivendell, to Bilbo, and to Bag End in the days while Bilbo was still there. He wished with all his heart that he was back there, and in those days, mowing the lawn, or pottering among the flowers, and that he had never heard of Moria, or mithril, or the Ring. (Lotr, 310)

This is not the first time this thought crosses Frodo’s mind. In fact, it is an elaboration of

his thoughts as he was looking down from Weathertop to the East-West Road: ‘He stared

down at the hateful Road, leading back Westward – to his home.’ (Lotr, 183). Frodo is

plagued by similar thoughts throughout the quest, and he is not alone10. All hobbits dream

of being back at home at one point or another during the quest: but one example will

suffice to illustrate my point. Sam is probably the first of the company who suffers from

homesickness, as the thought already occurs to him when he is only crossing the

Brandywine, the boundary of the Shire: ‘He scratched his head, and for a moment wished

that Mr. Frodo could have gone on living in Bag End’ (Lotr, 97)

2.2.2. The Shire remains a point of reference The inhabitants of the Shire share a narrow-minded worldview. They are not interested in

anything that happens beyond the borders of their country. During the quest, the

perspective of the hobbits is broadened as they are confronted with new countries, new

species and new races, each with its own distinctive worldview. I will come back to this

evolution in our discussion of the Bildungsroman-type elements in The Lord of the Rings.

10

Actually, once could claim that Frodo suffers the least of all hobbits from homesickness. As we will see in chapter 3, Frodo is different from the other hobbits, in that his conception of home changes drastically. He moves from homesickness to homelessness.

21

Important here is that, despite the broadening of their worldview, the Shire remains a point

of reference to the hobbits.

On several occasions, the narrow-minded perspective of the Shire resurfaces. A clear

example of this is when Bilbo, whose travels in the company of Gandalf -one might

assume- have expanded his perspective, sees Frodo again in Rivendell. Here, he clearly

values the Shire above anything else in Middle-earth, including the One Ring: ‘but let us

not worry about [the Ring] now – let’s have some real news! Tell me all about the Shire!’

(Lotr, 226 my emphasis). The bigoted perspective of the Shire often seems out of place in

the dangerous or serious context of Middle-earth, and can therefore have a comical effect.

Another example of the Shire-centred perspective is the moment when Frodo realises that

the mithril coat he is wearing is worth a fortune: ‘He felt staggered to think that he had

been walking about with the price of the Shire under his jacket.’ (Lotr, 310). He can only

express the value in relation to the Shire. On another occasion, Frodo courageously

attacks a cave troll in the Chamber of Marzabul, in the mines of Moria. His battle cry again

refers to the Shire:

Suddenly, and to his own surprise, Frodo felt a hot wrath blaze up in his heart. ‘The Shire!’ he cried, and springing beside Boromir, he stooped, and stabbed with Sting at the hideous foot. (Lotr, 316)

It may strike the reader that Frodo establishes the link with the Shire in moments of

surprise or anxiety. In the one case, Frodo feels ‘staggered’, and in the other he is

‘surprised’ by his own courage and battle cry. It seems that the Shire is always

subconsciously present in the minds of the hobbits, and wells up in the characters,

together with, and just like emotions do.

A last example will illustrate both how reference to the Shire is connected to strong

emotions, and how it is used to a comical end. Again I refer to the battle in the Chamber of

Marzabul, but this time the focus is on Sam:

A quick duck had saved him; and he had felled his orc: a sturdy thrust with his Barrow-blade. A fire was smouldering in his brown eyes that would have made Ted Sandyman step backwards, if he had seen it. (Lotr, 317)

The presence of emotions is obvious: a fury is raging within Sam. The focaliser here is

Sam. The reader learns what Sam feels, as the narrator brings the reader inside Sam’s

head, through the brown eyes. As Sam is the focaliser, it is no surprise that a reference is

made to the Shire. Just like Frodo automatically expresses the value of his coat in terms of

the value of the Shire, Sam expresses his emotions in relation to an inhabitant of the

Shire.

The reference to the shire also has a subversive comical effect. The first sentence

describes Sam’s courageous conduct in battle, and its style is completely in line with the

22

rest of the description of the fight. The second sentence, however, constitutes a break with

the heroic style, as reference is made to the Shire. In a heroic climax to the fight, Sam’s

fury should be described as scaring even a troll. However, the ending is anticlimactic and

the troll is replaced by Ted Sandyman, a miller from the Shire with whom Sam is not on

friendly terms. Inimical though his relationship with Ted might be, Sam does not need to

fear Ted. The greatest harm Ted can cause is irritation, while an encounter with an orc can

be lethal. Furthermore, an ignorant hobbit like Ted is more easily frightened than a sturdy

orc. We can therefore conclude that the description of the fight according to hobbit

standards serves as an ironic inflation of the heroic fight.

2.2.3. The Shire as an ontological ground for identity

The Shire is represented […] as a foundational space, an ontological ground for the hobbit’s identity, that lies securely outside of the conflict he is about to enter (Malpas 2005: 96)

Hobbits and the Shire are inextricably linked. The former cannot exist without the latter.

Therefore, the Shire can never be absent during the quest, as it is constantly represented

by its inhabitants. The hobbits remind the reader of the Shire in everything they do. The

hobbits are an anomaly in Middle-earth. They are pawns, ‘but on the wrong chessboard’,

as Pippin rightly points out (Lotr, 715).

Hobbits cannot disavow their origins. Sometimes, the hobbits explicitly stress their

hobbitness, as when Sam tells Faramir: ‘I am only a hobbit, and gardening’s my job at

home, sir, if you understand me’ (Lotr, 664). This thought need not always be put into

words though. Frodo is the Ringbearer, and as such is treated with respect. Yet, he sees

himself first and foremost as a hobbit, rather than a hero on a mission: ‘And here he was a

little Halfling from the Shire, a simple hobbit from the quiet countryside, expected to find a

way where the great ones could not go.’ (Lotr, 630)

We must stress, however, that the identity of the hobbit heroes is more complex than is

suggested here. Of course, their quest, and the confrontation with other worldviews it

inevitably entails, affects their personality, and their own view on the world. We will come

back to this aspect in chapter 3, where we will examine the dialogical chronotope . For

now, we can say that the Shire is a fundamental factor in establishing the identity of the

Hobbits. The Shire is therefore always present through its representatives: the Hobbits.

2.3. Idyllic spaces functioning as havens along the road According to Bakhtin, idyllic elements are scattered sporadically throughout the novel:

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‘Scattered throughout the great, cold alien world there are warm little corners of human feeling and kindness.’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 233)

This manifestation of the idyllic chronotope can also be found in the epic of The Lord of the

Rings: the fellowship’s dangerous quest through the threatening and hostile lands of

Middle-earth is interrupted now and again by pauses, which take the form of idyllic refuges

where our heroes can shelter from danger. These refuges will prove to be very important,

as they help to establish the link with a mythical past. I will come back to this in chapter 2.

Here, we will examine the original and creative ways in which Tolkien creates different

idyllic spaces. Four places will be scrutinized for idyllic elements. These are the country of

Tom Bombadil, Rivendell, Lothlórien and Fangorn forest. Special attention will go to the

spatial dimension and the dimension of time.

2.3.1. Space 2.3.1.1. Geographical isolation According to Bakhtin, the idyllic space is strongly isolated: ‘This little spatial world is limited

and sufficient unto itself, not linked in any intrinsic way with other places, with the rest of

the world.’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 225) This isolation is also identified by Pleij as an important

formulaic unit, which constantly recurs in the Cockaigne-materials. Cockaigne is fenced off

from the outside world by borders, which can take the form of ‘een langdurige tocht door

een berg boekweitbrij, waarbij men zich een doorgangshol moet eten. Andere teksten

hebben het over parmezaanse kaas of zelfs nauwelijks doorwaadbare massa’s stront.’

(Pleij 1997: 193) This isolation is not solely achieved through the erection of barriers.

Isolation is also realised as a ‘sterke scheiding tussen het vertrouwde en het vreemde’, as

the idyllic island is surrounded by an ‘onbekende, oninteressante of beangstigende

vreemdheid.’ (Keunen 2005: 81)

This isolation is shared by all idyllic retreats in the story. We can find it in Elrond’s

comments on Tom Bombadil:

And now he is withdrawn into a little land, within the bounds that he has set, though no one can see them, waiting perhaps for a change of days, and he will not step beyond them. (Lotr, 259)

Tom’s country is clearly delimited. Outsiders have to cross certain borders or thresholds in

order to gain access to his land. The hobbits first have to enter the Old Forest, which is

separated from Hobbiton by a huge and impenetrable hedge, through a secret tunnel gate.

Secondly, they have to cross the ‘wide stone threshold’ (Lotr, 121) of Tom’s house. This is

the moment where they really enter the idyllic space: ‘The hobbits stood upon the

threshold, and a golden light was all about them.’ (Lotr, 120). This idyllic space is

contrasted with the outside world. The ‘safety of these stone walls’ (Lotr, 125) is opposed

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to the threats of the forest. Tom assures the hobbits that no bad things can enter the idyllic

space: ‘Heed no nightly noises! For nothing passes door and window here save moonlight

and starlight and the wind of the hill-top.’ (Lotr, 123). When the hobbits move on, Tom

sees them off, but he will not cross the borders he has set for himself:

Tom’s country ends here: he will not pass the borders. Tom has his house to mind, and Goldberry is waiting! (Lotr, 144)

In Rivendell, the idyllic space takes the form of a lovely valley, hidden in the Misty

Mountains. This is a fairly common way of portraying idyllic spaces. It reminds the reader

of ‘het arcadia van Herakles, de ingesloten vallei in de Peloponnesus die een oase vormt

in het barre landschap’ (Keunen 2005: 80). Rivendell is also called ‘the last Homely House

east of the sea’ (Lotr, 219). This idea of the house as the core of the idyll, an idea we also

found in Tom’s country, is continued in Rivendell. The idyllic space is strongly secluded,

and the entrances can be closed at any time: ‘The river of this valley is under [Elrond’s]

power, and it will rise in anger when he has great need to bar the Ford.’ (Lotr, 218) The

contrast between the idyll and its surroundings -the vale of Rivendell and the surrounding

mountains- is emphasised more than it was in the land of Tom. The valley is ‘filled with a

faint scent of trees and flowers’, and the air is warm, ‘as if summer still lingered in Elrond’s

gardens.’11 (Lotr, 220) The idyllic space is in shrill contrast with the surrounding countries.

The climate changes as soon as the fellowship leaves Rivendell:

They crossed the bridge and wound slowly up the long steep paths that led out of the cloven vale of Rivendell; and they came at length to the high moor where the wind hissed through the heather. (Lotr, 274)

The next idyllic space, Lothlórien, is the most geographically isolated of all retreats:

the Naith of Lothlórien […] is the land that lies like a spearhead between the arms of the Silverlode and Anduin the Great [both are rivers]. We allow no strangers […] few indeed are ever permitted to set foot there. (Lotr, 338)

The idyllic space is bordered by two rivers which are guarded by secret sentinels.

Whoever crosses the borders will be brought before Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel,

and will be judged. This also is a characteristic of isolation: hostility towards strangers.

Only very seldom are the idyllic islands visited by outsiders. This is the case for Tom

Bombadil’s country: as a rule, ‘“people don’t go in there”’ (Lotr, 105). The same applies to

Fangorn forest: men very seldom come in the vicinity, ‘and they do not go under the trees.’

11

The use of the word ‘gardens’ is striking in this context. It immediately reminds the reader of the locus amoenus, ‘de lusthoven’, which are studied by Pleij in addition to the Cockaigne-materials. The gardens of pleasure can be seen as an attempt to recreate Cockaigne on earth.

25

(Lotr, 431). Rivendell seems to be the exception to the rule. Although geographically

isolated, it is the place where envoys of all the different races of Middle-earth gather to

decide what to do with the Ring.

The positive characteristics of Lothlórien are highlighted through a contrast with the

outside world, which is devalued, or even presented as threatening: ‘[…] the elves

distrusted the world outside: wolves were howling on the wood’s borders: but in the land of

Lothlórien no shadow lay’ (Lotr, 340). Lothlórien is characterized by a ‘power and light’

(Lotr, 342) which distinguish it from the surrounding countries: as soon as Frodo ‘lifted his

eyes across the river […] all the light went out, and he was back in the world he knew.

Beyond the river the land appeared flat and empty, formless and vague […]’ (Lotr, 342)

We can even read the description of the surrounding lands as an inversion of the idyllic

island. The trees in the outside world with their ‘twisted and thirsty roots’ (Lotr, 370) are

‘like ghosts’ (Lotr, 370) compared to the grand Mallorn trees, which can only be found in

Lothlórien, are golden roofed, and have ‘pillars […] of silver, for the bark of the trees is

smooth and grey’ (Lotr, 326). Similarly, the sound of water in the outside world is

described as ‘the faint lap and gurgle of the river fretting among the tree- roots and

driftwood near the shore […]’ (Lotr, 370) Again this is a clear antithesis of water in the

idyllic space, the sound of which is described as ‘so beautiful, for ever blending its

innumerable notes in an endless changeful music.’ (Lotr, 337)

2.3.1.2. Harmony, perfection and water According to Keunen, the idyll prefers ‘harmonical settings’12. Pleij also interprets

Cockaigne and paradise materials as a response to a desire for harmony (Pleij 1997: 205).

This perfect harmony is reflected in formulaic units such as ‘de verjongingsbron, een

permanent lenteklimaat, volslagen harmonie zonder haat of nijd en altijd muziek en

dansen […]’ (Pleij 1997: 93).

We have already commented on the eternal spring of Lothlórien, and will not return to the

subject here. We will, however, look more closely at how the idyllic spaces evoke a sense

of harmony. In many cases, the idyll is straightforwardly described as a perfect space.

Rivendell is ‘a perfect house’, and ‘merely to be there was a cure for weariness, fear and

sadness’ (Lotr, 219) Lothlórien is just as perfect: ‘No blemish or deformity could be seen in

anything that grew upon the earth. On the land of Lórien there was no stain’ (Lotr, 341).

Just as Pleij found that this harmony is expressed in music and dance, we find that Tolkien

links harmony with music and songs. When the hobbits are in the country of Tom

Bombadil, they ‘set free their voices’ (Lotr, 123). They sing when they are eating, and they

12

This is my own translation of the Dutch term ‘harmonische settings’ used by Keunen (Keunen 2005: 80).

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sing when they take a bath. Tom himself seems to be very fond of singing. His speech is

often restricted to songs that resemble nursery rhymes. Pippin notices that it is impossible

to feel ‘gloomy or depressed’ in Rivendell, and adds: ‘I feel like I could sing […]’ (Lotr, 220)

Evenings in Rivendell are spent listening to songs, and we learn that Bilbo sings his own

songs on those occasions. Even Treebeard can be heard ‘humming and singing’ (Lotr,

467) in Fangorn.

Finally, there is one more motif which recurs throughout all the idyllic spaces: water. All

idyllic spaces have at least one river running within their borders - the Withywindle in

Tom’s land, the Bruinen in Rivendell, the Entwash in Fangorn -, or have a river which

functions as a natural border - Lothlórien lies between the Silverlode and Anduin.

Furthermore, the hobbits meet Tom Bombadil at the shores of the Withywindle and

Goldeberry -Tom’s spouse- is described as the river-daughter, and she is constantly linked

with the river: ‘the sound of her footsteps was like a stream falling gently away downhill

over cool stones in the quiet of night’ (Lotr, 123). Rivendell is described as a ‘fair house,

looking out upon a sunlit valley filled with the noise of clear waters’ (Lotr, 260). The water

is constantly heard: ‘the sound of falling water was loud’ (Lotr, 220) and later on ‘the noise

of bubbling waters came up from the foaming river-bed’ (Lotr, 233). In the house of

Quickbeam, in the forest of Fangorn, ‘there was water (as in all ent-houses), a spring

bubbling out from the bank’ (Lotr, 472). The home of Treebeard was also built around ‘a

little stream’, which ‘fell tinkling down the sheer face of the wall’, and ‘was gathered again

into a stone basin in the floor between the trees’ (Lotr, 459).

The waters of Fangorn and Lothlórien have powers which remind the reader of the four

streams of paradise: ‘het genezende bronwater uit het paradijs, dat in vier stromen de

wereld bevloeide, heelde in principe elke aftakeling en dus ook die van het leven zelf’

(Pleij 1997: 30). According to Christian belief, many of the waters on earth, which

ultimately flowed from paradise, possessed healing powers. The drink offered by

Treebeard seems to possess special powers:

The drink was like water, indeed very like the taste of the draughts they had drunk from the Entwash near the borders of the forest […] the effect of the draught began at the toes, and rose steadily through every limb, bringing refreshment and vigour as it coursed upwards, right to the tips of the hair. (Lotr, 460)

The draught furthermore causes the hobbits to grow, and Merry and Pippin become the

tallest hobbits ever.

The river Nimrodel equally seems to possess healing power, ‘for it is said that the water is

healing to the weary’ (Lotr, 330). This claim proves to be correct, as Frodo notices when

he is bathing his feet:

27

For a moment Frodo stood near the brink, and let the water flow over his tired feet. It was cold but its touch was clean, and as he went on, and it mounted to his knees, he felt that the stain of travel and all weariness was washed from his limbs. (Lotr, 330)

We can thus safely say that the idyllic spaces in The Lord of the Rings are typified by

harmony. This harmonic perfection even allows the reader to establish a link with the

Christian dream of perfection: paradise.

2.3.2. Time The cyclical time of the idyll is fundamentally different from the time in the outside world,

which is the linear time of history. We have seen how the Shire isolated itself in time by

adopting the idiosyncratic Shire Reckoning. When Frodo sets out on his quest, he not only

trades his beloved Shire for a life on the road, but he also leaves idyllic time behind, and

enters the linear time of history.

However, this does not mean that the idyll is absent during the quest, and only recurs

when Frodo has completed his quest and returns to Hobbiton. I want to show that the

linear time of the quest is punctured at regular intervals by idyllic time. Furthermore,

through the hobbits, the idyllic refuges are linked to the initial idyllic space: the Shire. They

are the link with ‘home’, as becomes apparent in Sam’s reaction to Lothlórien: I’ ve never

heard of a better land than this. It’s like being at home and on a holiday at the same time.,

if you understand me. I don’t want to leave. (Lotr, 352) Firstly, we will briefly examine how

the confrontation between cyclical and linear time is a problematical experience for the

main characters. Flieger (Lotr, 101) adds to this that Tolkien himself has struggled strongly

with the conflicting time-patterns. Secondly, we will investigate how each idyllic retreat

realises the idyllic time in a different way. The idyllic retreats under investigation are, in

order of appearance in the quest: the land of Tom Bombadil, Rivendell, Lothlórien and

Fangorn forest. It is no coincidence that my selection of idyllic spaces corresponds to a

selection made by Langford, who, in his essay on the use of time in The Lord of the Rings,

lists a group of characters ‘who opt out of history altogether’.(Langford 2005: 39) These

characters are Gaffer Gamgee, who acts as a representative of the hobbit community,

Tom Bombadil, who is the personification of his own country, the elves of Rivendell and

Lothlórien and the Ents which dwell in Fangorn forest.

2.3.2.1. The time of productive growth: from continuity across generations to the

immortality of the individual Idyllic time is essentially the ‘time of productive growth’:

Insofar as individuality is not isolated, such things as old age, decay and death can be nothing more than aspects subordinated to growth and increase

(Bakhtin 1981a: 207)

28

This form of time, which stresses continual growth, can only be realised through a

collective ethos, through continuity across many generations. There is no place for the

limited perspective of the individual.

Bakhtin firmly anchors the idyll in ordinary time: ‘the fantastic in folklore is a realistic

fantastic: in no way does it exceed the limits of the real […] it works with the ordinary

expanses of time and space […]’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 150) However, The Lord of the Rings is

a work of fantasy, and as such makes use of fantastic time. This fantastic time, which

exceeds the boundaries of realistic time, opens up new possibilities in the realisation of the

time of productive growth, which were never considered by Bakhtin.

One possible realisation of the time of productive growth in fantasy is immortality. One of

the differences between the fantastic and the real world is that the fantastic world allows

for creatures to be immortal. The life of one immortal creature equals many generations of

mortal folk. This allows for a shift from the collective to the individual, without violating the

long term continuity of the time of productive growth.

In short, we can say that Bakhtin places the idyll within the limits of ordinary time.

Consequently, the time of productive growth can only be realised through a collective

ethos, a continuity that spans many generations. However, as soon as the demand for

realism is dropped and time is no longer controlled within its ordinary boundaries, other

realisations of the time of productive growth are made possible. One of these possibilities

is immortality. Continuity across generations can thus be represented in two ways: one

can adopt the collective perspective -the perspective typical of the idyll-, or one can adopt

the perspective of the immortal, who sees the comings and goings of many generations.

We find both perspectives in The Lord of the Rings.13 The idyll of Hobbiton is typified by a

collective perspective, as we have seen above. The idylls along the road, however, are

characterized by an immortal perspective. It is a good idea now to investigate how this

theme of immortality is presented in the idyllic retreats along the road of the fellowship.

13

In fact Tolkien developed a third way to evoke the sense of continuity, which holds the middle between the immortality of the elves and the generational approach: reincarnation. We find evidence of this in Appendix A, part three, which is devoted to the Dwarves. We learn that the Dwarves believed that their forefather was immortal. Therefore, ‘he was known far and wide as Durin the Deathless’ (Lotr, 1045). This longlivety resembles the immortality of the elves. Yet Durin is not immortal: although he lived very long; ‘in the end he died’ (Lotr, 1045). On the other hand, the Dwarves recuperate the generational approach we already found with the Hobbits, for Durin’s ‘line never failed, and five times an heir was born in his House so like his Forefather that he received the name of Durin.’ (Lotr, 1046). Here we find both the cyclicity, in the form of a son who is born five times, and the stasis, which is emphasised by giving him the name of his father. These two elements are combined in the idea of reincarnation: Durin was held to be ‘the Deathless that returned’. (Lotr, 1046).

29

Tom Bombadil is the oldest of the immortals. The elves call him ‘Iarwain Ben-Adar’ (Lotr,

258), which means as much as ‘oldest and fatherless’. Tom’s experience of time comes

very close to the experience of time of the collective community: a unified time where

personal plots have not yet ‘been individualized and singled out from the time of the

collective historical life of the social whole.’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 208) As Langford notes,

Tom’s all-embracing perspective ‘is almost wholly unhistorical’ (Langford 2005: 40). He still

lives in a unified time, which is governed by the seasons, and he keeps far from the plots

and intrigues of the war of the Ring.

If we look at Golberry, Tom’s partner, and at the elves, we note that ‘no sign of age was

upon them’ (Lotr, 345). The face of Elrond was ‘ageless, neither old nor young’ (Lotr, 220),

and of his daughter, Arwen, we learn that ‘young she was, and yet not so’ (Lotr, 221).

Strikingly, Goldberry is described as ‘young and ancient as spring’ (Lotr, 119). The use of

the image of spring is an indication of this character’s organic experience of time, which

‘resonates with deeper rhythms of life.’ (Walker 1973: 77). Furthermore, the cyclical

character of spring leads to an ambiguous reading. On the one hand, spring symbolises

youth, as it is the time of year when everything starts to grow. From the perspective of the

immortal who has seen many springs, on the other hand, the adjective ‘ancient’ is

appropriate. The same ambiguity can be found in the elves’ experience of their immortality

in relation to he seasons:

For the elves the world moves, and it moves both very swift and very slow. Swift, because they themselves change little, and all else fleets by: it is a grief to them. Slow, because they do not count the running years, not for themselves. The passing seasons are but ripples ever repeated in the long stream. (Lotr, 379)

Again we find an organic experience of time which testifies of a perspective which is

fundamentally very similar to the cross-generational perspective of the collective

community.

2.3.2.2. Conflicting experiences of time The idyllic havens along the road are isolated in time, just like the Shire is isolated by its

shire-reckoning. The only difference is that in some idyllic refuges the isolation is much

more extreme than it is in the Shire. The first example is the country of Tom Bombadil. The

hobbits are not completely sure how long they had stayed in the country of Tom Bombadil,

but ‘it seemed at least a week.’ (Lotr, 130). Yet, as soon as they are back on the road,

Frodo realises that they ‘haven’t lost more than two days’ (Lotr, 144). Here the return from

the idyllic time causes confusion to the main character and the reader alike. Within twenty

pages, however, the confusion is resolved by Frodo.

30

The stay in Lothlórien causes a comparable confusion; only this time it is not so easily

resolved. Once the fellowship is back on the road, Sam tries to determine the duration of

their stay in the forest of Lórien by the stance of the moon. He comes to the conclusion

that: ‘[…] either [the moon] is out of its running, or I’m all wrong in my reckoning.’ (Lotr,

379) There seems to be a discrepancy between time in Lothlórien and time in the real

world, which Sam cannot fathom:

Well, I can remember three nights there for certain, and I seem to remember several more, but I would take my oath it was never a whole month. Anyone would think that time did not count in there! (Lotr, 379)

It seems that, during their stay in Lothlórien, which lasted only for a couple of days, either

a whole month, or no time at all has passed in the real world. From Legolas we learn that

‘[…] change and growth is not in all places and things alike’ (Lotr, 379). Time runs slower

in Lothlórien. ‘In that land,’ Aragorn explains to Sam, ‘you lost your count. There time

flowed swiftly by us, as for the elves.’ (Lotr, 379) Frodo describes the difference in time in

the most visually striking way:

It was not, I think, until Silverlode bore us back to Anduin that we returned to the time that flows through mortal lands to the Great Sea. And I don’t remember any moon, either new or old, in Caras Galadhon: only stars by night and sun by day. (Lotr, 379)

The idyllic space is not only geographically separated from the mortal lands by the river

Silverlode, but also temporally isolated. The absence of the moon is a clear metaphor for

the idiosyncratic experience of time, which stands completely aloof from mortal time.

Sam’s problem, however, remains unresolved. Did a whole month pass in the outside

world during their stay, or did no time pass at all?14 In order to get a definite answer, we

have to turn to Appendix B at the end of The Lord of the Rings (Lotr, 1067). Only then do

we learn that the fellowship stayed in Lothlórien for a month. We find that Tolkien strongly

confronts the reader with the problem of time.15

It is important to point out that, although Tolkien has seriously considered the possibility,

he ‘decided to have no time difference between Lórien and the rest of the world’ (Flieger

14

Shippey points out that this passage reflects a tension that can already be found in traditional fairy stories. Two competing time patterns can be found in those texts. In the one tradition, Elvish time flows far slower than mortal time: the mortal resides in the land of the fairies for one night, but when he comes back in the real world, everyone he knew is dead, and ‘there is only a dim memory of the man once lost in the Elf-hill’ (Shippey 2000: 89). In the other tradition, Elvish time flows quicker. When their music plays, everything stands still in the real world, and even the river stops running. We find that Lothlórien combines these two motifs: ‘Lothlorien in a way reconciles the two motifs of ‘The Night that lasts a Century’ and ‘The stream that stood still’.’ (Shippey 2000: 89) 15

Tolkien himself was also troubled by the conflicting experiences of time. For a full discussion of his ideas as they can be deduced from the different drafts of the Lothlórien section, see Flieger (1997: 92-110).

31

1997: 99). Time runs the same on the road and in the idyllic spaces alike. What is different

is the way time is experienced. Therefore, ‘the issue is not whether time counts, but how

it counts.’ (Flieger 1997: 99)

Once it has become clear that idyllic time is experienced in a different way than mortal

time, the next challenge should be to establish how time counts in each specific

concretisation of the idyll.

2.3.2.3. The land of Tom Bombadil: celebration of the seasonal cycles Keeping track of time in the land of Tom Bombadil proves to be very hard for the hobbits:

‘Whether the morning and evening of one day or many days had passed Frodo could not

tell.’ (Lotr, 129) In the land of Tom Bombadil, the passing of time is not measured in days.

Calendar time has no significance. Time only manifests itself through seasonal cyclicity.

Seasons feature prominently in the songs of Tom: ‘O spring-time and summer-time, and

spring-time after!’ (Lotr, 122) The seasons are also unmistakably present in the song

about the water lilies. Each year, Tom goes out to gather the last water lilies for his

beloved Golberry, so that they can winter inside his house:

the last ere the year’s end to keep them from the winter, to flower by her pretty feet till the snows are melted. Each year at summer’s end I go and find them for her, in a wide pool, deep and clear, far down the Withywindle; there they open first in spring, and there they linger latest. (Lotr, 124)

This song concerns a ritual that marks the advent of autumn16. Two more rituals are

mentioned during the hobbits’ encounter with Tom. The first is Golbery’s ‘autumn cleaning’

(Lotr, 127). On this extremely rainy day at the beginning of fall, Goldberry washes herself

in the rain. From that point onwards, Tom will not venture into the Old Forest anymore. Not

until spring comes. Again, the beginning of the season is symbolised by Golberry’s

cleaning, as we learn from Tom’s song:

[…] Nor shall I be passing Old Man willow’s house this time of spring-time, not till the merry spring, when the River-daughter dances down the withy-path to bathe in the water. (Lotr, 124)

This experience of time illustrates Bakhtin’s claim that, in idyllic time, ‘Human life and

nature are perceived in the same categories.’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 208). To Bakhtin, this

means that ‘categorical images [such as the seasons of the year] serve equally well to plot

16

Frodo meets Tom Bombadil as he was on his way to bring the water lily to Goldberry. According to appendix B (Lotr, 1066) this is on September 26. Strictly speaking, this does not coincide with the astronomical beginning of autumn, which is September 23. Yet, I believe it is acceptable to read the ritual as pertaining to the beginning of autumn.

32

the course of an individual life and the life of nature’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 208) This fully applies

to Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, whose lives are very strongly connected to the land they

inhabit17.

2.3.2.4. Rivendell and Lothlórien: living in an eternal past Time in Rivendell is different from mortal time, in that it is not oriented towards the future:

‘The future, good or ill was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present.’

(Lotr, 267) People in Rivendell live the moment: ‘they were content with each good day as

it came, taking pleasure in every meal, and in every word and song.’ (Lotr, 267) Every day

is exactly like the day before, and so ‘the days slipped away, as each morning dawned

bright and fair, and each evening followed cool and clear.’ (Lotr, 267) Because every day

is like the day before, and since there is no orientation towards the future, one gets the

impression that time has stopped. Bilbo hints at this phenomenon when he gives Frodo his

impression of the place: ‘Time doesn’t seem to pass here: it just is.’ (Lotr, 225) Time tends

toward a stasis, an eternal presence. This is the sort of time which lies at the very basis of

the idyll. Keunen states that ‘[de] hoofdzaak is het verlangen naar een eeuwig nu, naar

een perpetuum mobile van harmonieuze processen.’ (Keunen 2005: 79) Tolkien develops

the same idea in his letters, when he describes the desire of the elves ‘to stop [Middle-

earth’s] change and history, stop its growth, keep it as a pleasaunce (sic)’ (Letters 197, as

cited in Langford 2005: 38). Yet it is not completely correct to claim that the elves in

Rivendell live in an eternal present. They rather live in an eternal past. Langford has

described time in Rivendell as ‘melancholic stasis’ (Langford 2005: 38). The melancholy is

the result of the Elves’ ‘Chronic attachment to the past’ (Langford 2005: 38). Initially, this

attachment to the past is not obvious to the reader. It is only made explicit in Lothlórien.

Lothlórien is typified by the same melancholic stasis as Rivendell, only here it is much

stronger.

[…] it seemed to him that he had stepped over a bridge of time into a corner of the Elder Days, and was now walking in a world that was no more. In Rivendell there was memory of ancient things; in Lórien the ancient things still lived on in the waking world. (Lotr, 340)

Here, the melancholic bond of the elves with the past is made explicit. The stasis, or

perpetual character of time, is perceived by the hobbits as an absence of time, very much

17

In several studies, Tom is described as a ‘spirit of the land’. His partner could equally be seen as a spirit of the river: Tom found her in the river, and she is called River-daughter. Whether these characters are spirits or people of flesh and blood is a question I do not purpose to answer here. Important is that the possibility of them being nature spirits underlines their close relationship with nature.

33

like it was in Rivendell. Frodo describes Lothlórien as ‘a timeless land that did not fade or

change or fall into forgetfulness.’ (Lotr, 342). Yet mortal time is not completely excluded

from Lothlórien, as the seasonal cycles are prominently present. Mallorn trees determine

the view of Lothlórien. This way the palette of Lothlórien enables anybody to determine

what season it is at a single glance:

For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the bows are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. (Lotr, 326)

However, the working of the seasons in Lothlórien is not as straightforward as it might

seem. On the one hand, the place is subjected to the same seasons we find in the mortal

word. On the other hand, Lothlórien seems to know an eternal spring. As the hobbits visit

the place in winter, they seem to experience winter and spring at the same time: ‘The air

was cool and soft, as if it was early spring, yet they felt about them the deep and

thoughtful quiet of winter.’ (Lotr, 349) The eternal spring of Lothlórien can be interpreted in

two ways. On the one hand, it can refer to the golden age of the Elves, which has long

passed by the time the fellowship arrives at Lothlórien, but which the Elves so desperately

want to hold unto. In this reading, spring symbolises the early stages of Elvish society.

This interpretation is supported later on, when the grass in Lórien is described as being ‘as

green as Springtime in the Elder Days’ (Lotr, 341). Here springtime is explicitly linked with

the Elder Days, the heydays of Elvish society. On the other hand, this eternal spring has

also been read as a reference to paradise18: from early Christianity onwards, ‘krijgt het

[paradijs] de karakteristiek mee van een eeuwige lente.’ (Pleij 1997: 205) Pleij explains

that this fantasy of an eternal spring arises from the desire for moderateness, stability and

harmony. We have already seen that Keunen situates the origins of the idyll in a longing

for harmony (Keunen 2005: 78). We thus find that both the idyll as described by Keunen,

and paradise as described by Pleij try to offer an answer to the yearning for harmony

which was all too common in an agricultural society to which change posed a constant

threat. The different interpretations of the eternal spring of Lothlórien – Paradise or Golden

Age - should therefore not be seen as standing in strict opposition19. Rather, they are

different concretizations of the principle of harmony, which is also the founding principle of

the idyll.

18

This reading can also be found with Flieger, when she describes Frodo’s reaction to Lothlórien: ‘Frodo knows Paradise when he sees it’ (Flieger 1997: 98) and with Shippey: ‘Once they are across the Nimrodel, They are in something like the earthly paradise (…)’ (Shippey 2000: 199). Brisbois claims that ‘in Lothlórien we see elements of a prelapsarian world’ , and he refers to Auden, who has described the elves as ‘creatures in an unfallen world’ (in Brisbois 2006: 9) 19

Flieger for one treats both readings as interchangeable, and combines reference to both paradise (Eden) and Golden Age (Elder Days) in her description of Lothlórien: ‘Lórien, the Edenic world of the Elder Days’ (Flieger 1997: 98).

34

2.3.2.5. Fangorn: two distinctive features of time Time in Fangorn forest is not as fully developed as it is in the elvish sanctuaries. Although

the difference between time in Fangorn forest and mortal time poses no direct problems to

the protagonists, there remains a major difference in the way Ents and mortals see and

use time. Firstly, time is perceived as moving slower by the Ents. According to Flieger, it is

exactly the subjective experience of time which is introduced by Tolkien as a valid

measure of time (Flieger 1997: 99).

Secondly, the Ent’s view on history is typified by a disinterest in the future. This is a

characteristic the inhabitants of Fangorn forest share with the elves of Rivendell and

Lothlórien. ‘I do not like troubling about the future’, Treebeard says (Lotr, 461). This

devaluation of the future is a direct result of the Entish long term perspective on time.

2.3.2.5.1. The long view of the Ents Ents live at a much slower pace then Men or Elves or any other race in Middle-earth. It is

not exceptional for Treebeard the Ent ‘to spend a week just breathing’ (Lotr, 458). A hasty

Ent is a contradiction in terms. ‘Do not be hasty, that is my motto’ (Lotr, 452), Treebeard

tells the hobbits. To him, all other races are ‘hasty folk’ (Lotr, 454). This slowness is also

reflected in the Ent- language, which is ‘an ‘unhasty’ language’ (Lotr, 469). Old Entish is

described by Treebeard as ‘a lovely language,’ although he has to add that ‘it takes a very

long time to say anything in it, because we do not say anything in it, unless it is worth

taking a long time to say, and listen to.’ (Lotr, 454) The elaborateness of the Entish

language can even be perceived in Treebeard’s use of the Common Speech.

The Ents’s experience of time is comparable to that of the Elves and Tom Bombadil, in

that it adopts a long term perspective.

‘We know it well,’ said Aragorn, ‘and never shall it be forgotten in Minas Tirith or in Edoras.’‘Never is too long a word even for me,’ said Treebeard. ‘Not while your kingdoms last, you mean; but they will have to last long indeed to seem long to Ents.’ (Lotr, 957)

Yet the experience of time is different from the Elves, who are immortal, and therefore

experience time as static. Time in Fangorn is more like time in the land of Tom Bombadil:

it is cyclical. But again there is a difference: the land of Tom is dominated by seasonal

cycles, whereas time in Fangorn is measured by the lifecycle of its inhabitants: the Ents.

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The reader might at this point wonder in what way this experience of time differs from the

linear time of history, which is measured by the lifecycles of men20. The answer is simple:

both experiences of time are fundamentally different, because both lifecycles are

fundamentally different. They are different in two ways.

Firstly, the lifecycle of an Ent encompasses that of many men. This is why Ents see Men

as hasty, and are perceived by men as being very slow. Ents do not bother to count the

swift years that make up the years of Men, anymore ‘than mortal men would bother to

count the swift-moving minutes that make up the daylong life of the mayfly’ (Flieger 1997:

99) Secondly, Ents are not born and do not die like humans do21. It is a double process of

trees growing Entish, and Ents getting tree-ish:

‘many [Ents] are growing sleepy, going tree-ish, as you might say. Most of the trees are just trees, of course; but many are half awake. Some are quite wide awake, and a few are, well, ah, well getting Entish. That is going on all the time.’ (Lotr, 457)

It is a perpetual cycle: Ents turn into trees as trees develop into Ents. This long term

evolution blurs the differences between the Ents and the trees, and creates a group which

no mortal can define as being either Ent or tree. Their limited perspective prevents them

from seeing the long term evolutions. In a way this process is comparable to condratievs.

One needs a ‘long view’22 like Treebeard to be able to discern the tree-ish Ents from the

Entish trees. To him the distinction between ‘his kin’ (Ents) and trees is obvious: ‘Some of

my kin look just like trees now, and need something great to rouse them; and they speak

only in whispers. But some of my trees are limb-lithe, and many can talk to me.’ (Lotr, 457)

Ents possess this ‘long view’, as they ‘belong to the novel’s category of beings whose

immense age runs directly counter to the limited perspective of mortals’. (Langford 2005:

40) Besides Tom Bombadil and the Elves, Treebeard is the only one who would call

Saruman the wise ‘young Saruman’ (Lotr, 455, my emphasis). Treebeard himself is only

too aware of this difference in perspective:

Sheep get like shepherd, and shepherds like sheep, it is said; but slowly, and neither have long in the world. It is quicker and closer with trees and ents, and they walk down the ages together. (Lotr, 457)

20

The historical periods are demarcated by the death of a king. The people of Rohan for instance, might situate an event in time by saying: ‘It was during the reign of Helm the Hammerhand.’ 21

Long ago, before the separation of the Ents and Entwives, the situation was different. As long as the two sexes were around, there were entings (children). But at the time of the quest, this cycle has been replaced by a new cycle. 22

Langford (2005: 42) uses the term to refer to a broader perspective. The ‘long view’ reaches across many hundreds of years, and stands in shrill contrast with the limited perspective of mortals. In her study on time in Tolkien’s fiction, Flieger describes the same phenomenon. She claims Tolkien based his work on the time theory of J.W. Dunne: ‘Tolkien envisioned his mortal Men (and mortal Hobbits) in the position of Dunne’s Observer I and his immortal Elves in the position of Observer II, thus conferring on Elves […] a wider (or longer) perspective of time.’ (Flieger 1997: 104)

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2.3.2.5.2. Historical inversion According to Langdon, the difference in perspective is the reason for Treebeard’s

disinterest in the future. This disinterest also implies that he is in no way involved in the

wars of Middle-earth.

‘Hoom, hm, I have not troubled about the Great Wars [...] That is the business of Wizards: Wizards are always troubled about the future. I do not like troubling about the future. I am not altogether on anybody’s side, because nobody is altogether on my side [...]’ (Lotr, 461)

However, Langdon cannot account for the sudden change in the attitude of the Ents when

they decide to leave Fangorn, and march on Isengard in order to bring about Saruman’s

downfall. He can only observe that ‘Yet, ultimately, the Ents do recognise their own

unavoidable implication in the social’, and commit themselves to a side, ‘even at the cost

of their own existence’ (Langford 2005: 40).

I agree that the Ents break out of their idyllic enclosure, cross their self-imposed borders,

and engage in the war. They leave their refuge of idyllic time and enter in the linear time of

history. However, I do not believe this coincides with a shift in perspective, as Langdon

suggests. The march of the Ents does not mean that they take their responsibility in the

War of the Ring. Rather, it is an ultimate attempt at preserving their idyllic refuge.

In order to shore up my reading, I will start from Bakhtin’s concept of historical inversion

(Bakhtin 1981a: 147). Historical inversion essentially entails that what should be realised

in the future (e.g. perfection and harmony) is presented as something situated in the past.

Often this past is presented as a Golden Age, or a paradisiacal state. The focus of

attention shifts towards the past and present, and the future is ‘emptied out’ (Bakhtin

1981a: 148). Treebeard clearly recollects the golden age of the Ents:

‘Those were the broad days! Time was when I could walk and sing all day and hear no more than the echo of my own voice in the hollow hills.’ (Lotr, 457)

This Golden Age differs in two ways from the present situation in Fangorn. Geographically,

the realm of the Ents had not yet been reduced to a single forest. In the ‘broad days’, the

woods stretched to the mountains of Lune, and Fangorn ‘was just the East End’ (Lotr,

457). Secondly, and more importantly, the Golden Age differs from the present situation in

that its idyllic matrix is not disrupted. This matrix contains phenomena such as love, birth,

death, marriage, labour, food and stages of growth (Bakhtin 1981a: 225). The Golden Age

of the Ents ended the moment they lost the Entwives23. As a result, ‘there have been no

23

An elvish song tells bout the separation of the Ents. Once the Ents and the Entwives lived together in harmony. But the Ents loved the wild lands and forests, whereas the Entwives preferred

37

Entings – no children you would say, not for a terrible long count of years.’ (Lotr, 464) The

matrix is skewed by the absence of copulation and birth. The cycle of life and death has

been severed, and in time has been replaced by the new cycle of Ents turning into trees,

and trees turning into Ents. Since this new cycle is far from satisfactory, the Ents have

focussed more and more on the past. This is typical of historical inversion:

The present and even more the past are enriched at the expense of the future. The force and persuasiveness of reality, of real life, belongs to the present and the past alone –to the “is” and the “was”. (Bakhtin 1981a: 147)

The “was” in the quotation above refers to the Golden Age of the Ents. The “is” pertains to

the idyllic island of Fangorn during the third age. The Ents are indifferent to everything

else, including the war of the Ring. It is only when their idyllic situation -their present in

function of the past- is threatened, that they take action. We find the same insular

perspective we also found in the Shire:

‘We Ents do not like being roused; and we never are roused unless it is clear to us that our trees and our lives are in great danger.’ (Lotr, 474, my emphasis)

Therefore I do not agree with Langford’s claim that the Ents recognise their part in the

historic feats of men. Whatever they do, they do for themselves, and for their community

(the trees).24

We can conclude that the idyll is indeed omnipresent in LOTR. The Shire is a very

important idyllic space, because it is the place where the novel begins and ends; it

functions as a frame that contains the quest of the Ring. It is the hometown of the hobbits,

and as such it remains present in one from or another during the quest.

Tolkien displays a lot of skill and originality in the other idyllic spaces that feature in the

story. Firstly, these places are interesting because they illustrate how this one chronotope

well-tilled gardens and fruit trees. This eventually led to their separation. This song resembles the biblical story of the fall of man, in that it tells the story of the loss of a paradisiacal state. (see also Pleij 1997: 21) Furthermore, a return to this initial ‘natural state’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 148) is projected into a faraway and abstract future. 24

We notice a difference here between Treebeard, who never really rises above an insular perspective, and Frodo, who does rise above his initial insular perspective. Frodo, just like Treebeard starts with an insular perspective. He ‘should like to save the Shire’ (Lotr, 61) and shows no interest in the fate of the other countries of Middle-earth. He plays a role in the events of the war of the Ring, but he does so solely in function of the Shire. However, this changes, and Frodo gradually inserts himself in the higher level of Middle-earth (‘may the blessings of Elves and Men and all the Free Folk go with you’) (Lotr, 274)). One exception the reader might think of is the help of the Huorns at the battle of Helm’s Deep. However I do not believe this testifies of a real shift in perspective. The main motivation of the Huorns is not to help humans, but to take revenge on the ocrs that have killed so many of their kin.

38

can be realised in many different ways. But more importantly, the idyllic spaces function as

points of equilibrium and peace in the story, which contrast with longer periods of

disequilibrium. The interplay between equilibrium and disequilibrium will be studied more

closely in the next two chapters.

39

CHAPTER 2 | MYTHICAL ROOTS : THE MISSION CHRONOTOPE

1. CLASSICAL APPROACHES TO THE MYTHICAL ELEMENTS IN LOTR

Many studies have focussed on the epic qualities of The Lord of the Rings. Within these

studies we can discern two main approaches.

A first group focuses on the content. What are the sources that could have inspired

Tolkien? People look for parallels between LOTR and ancient myths and try to link

characters, events and places to works like Beowulf or the Kalevala. This literary

archaeology leads to a whole range of discoveries, like that of Shippey, for example, who

discovered that Tolkien found his inspiration for the names of the dwarves in ‘the poem

Völuspá, ‘the sybil vision’, one section of which is called the Dvergatal, ‘the Tally of the

Dwarves’’ (Shippey 2000: 15). Though findings such as these are proof of both the

scholar’s knowledge of ancient texts and Tolkien’s breadth of learning, their relevance

often remains debatable.

The second approach focuses on the structure of the story. An important presence in this

line of research is the structural analyst Vladimir Propp. Propp’s morphology has the merit

that it shows ‘that there can be structural borrowings as well as content borrowings’ (Alan

Dunde, quoted in Petty 1979: 2). One scholar who has endeavoured to dutifully describe

LOTR by means of Propp’s theoretical apparatus is Anne Petty. Her results can be

summarised in one formula:

(Petty 1979: 113)

This approach has the advantage that it demonstrates the complexity of the story and that

it allows us to expose the symmetrical patterns in the story. In essence, however, this

40

formula offers nothing more than a linear succession of functions. It is therefore doubtful

that this formula alone will bring Petty significantly closer to her ultimate goal, which is a

better understanding of the ‘mythic impulse’ (Petty 1979: 2).

Neither the search for structural borrowings nor the quest for content borrowings exposes

the link between LOTR and mythical structures in a satisfactory way. I believe that an

approach to the epic elements in LOTR from the perspective of the chronotope promises

to be more fruitful.

2. THE MISSION CHRONOTOPE : ROOTED IN THE MYTHICAL CHRONOTOPE

2.1. Mission chronotope and eschatology

eschatologiën zijn, zoals gezegd, lineaire mythes en als dusdanig bevestigen ze via een omweg (de omweg van de lineaire geschiedenis) een mythisch wereldbeeld. (Keunen 2005: 95)

All eschatologies essentially evoke the victory of mythical harmony over contingency and

chaos. The only difference with myths is that eschatology works by means of a linear plot

which ends with the victory of good over bad; whereas myth is typified by a cyclical

pattern, which ultimately results in a form of stasis: a timeless state, in which good

triumphs over bad. In this way, every eschatology is fundamentally indebted to myth. In

the vast majority of cases, both author and reader are ignorant of this connection. Tolkien

is an exception to this rule. As a professor of Anglo-Saxon, and expert in both Nordic and

Finnish mythology, he had a great insight into how epic stories form a part of a greater

mythical complex. Tolkien distinguishes himself from other authors of fantasy, in that he

has attempted to recreate a mythical complex25, a larger context in which his stories can

be placed. His stories abound with references to legends and mythical figures. This

richness gives us the opportunity to investigate the nature of the connection between the

mythic and mission chronotopes , and it also enables us to examine the sundry ways in

which Tolkien draws the reader’s attention to this connection.

25

These writings were only published posthumously, by Tolkien’s son Christopher as The Silmarillion. Only very recently, a new book by Christopher Tolkien has been published which is also a collection of stories of this mythological background: Tolkien, Christopher (ed). 2007. Children of Húrin. London: HarperCollins

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2.2. The epic story as part of a larger mythical structure

The absolute [mythical] past is closed and completed in the whole as well as in any of its parts. It is, therefore, possible to take any part and offer it as a whole. (Bakhtin 1981b: 31)

A myth consists of different stories which are centred on different heroes, and together

form a complex whole. Every separate story is a complete structure in itself. One can read

The Lord of the Rings as a work of literature that stands completely on its own. The

eschatological narrative moreover confirms a mythical worldview, and as such it also

represents the whole of the mythical complex of which it is a part.

Gandalf expresses the core idea of myth in a conversation with Frodo: ‘always after a

defeat and a respite, the Shadow takes another shape and grows again.’ (Lotr, 51) Myth

portrays a constant struggle between good and bad. Good is threatened by evil time and

again, and always overcomes it. This process is repeated ad infinitum, and so represents

the arduous victory of good over bad26 and confirms ‘the static equilibrium of the cosmos’

(Campbell in Petty 1979: 79)

The story of Frodo and the Ring is just one link in this mythic chain, as Gandalf makes

clear: ‘All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. And already,

Frodo, our time is beginning to look black.’ (Lotr, 51) We could say that Gandalf’s speech

offers the reader a guideline as to how to read the book. Gandalf first draws attention to

the greater mythical frame and subsequently isolates one sequence (‘the time that is given

to us’). Then he addresses the eschatological structure of the mission chronotope, which

is a three stage movement from equilibrium over disequilibrium back to equilibrium.

Gandalf sketches how the period of peace is under threat (‘our time is beginning to look

black’). A period of unrest announces itself: the quest. Frodo will eventually restore peace

by destroying the Ring27. This concludes the story of The Lord of the Rings, but we repeat

that this story is only a part in a greater cycle. Petty states this quite aptly when she says

that:

26

Note how this cyclical pattern is very similar to the seasonal cycles that are central to the idyll. Plants and beasts grow and multiply during spring and summer, but destructive winter causes many of them to die. This sequence is repeated over and over again, but every year the growth of spring and the harvest of summer exceeds the deaths of winter, and so the seasons symbolise a steady grow, that is nevertheless cyclical in nature. The race of men is subject to this very pattern, as we learn from a discussion between Gimli and Legolas: ‘“It is ever so with the things that Men begin: there is a frost in Spring, or a blight in Summer, and they fail of their promise.” “Yet seldom do they fail of their seed,” said Legolas. “And that will lie in he dust and rot to spring up again in times and place unlooked-for. The deeds of Men will outlast us, Gimli.”’ (Lotr, 855) 27

Strictly speaking, Frodo is not the one who destroys the Ring. (We will come back to this point in chapter three) We can safely posit, however, that Frodo plays a major part in the destruction of the Ring.

42

the malevolent and benevolent forces clash in confrontation in the Third Age of Middle-earth; yet it is not for the first time […] nor for the last (Petty 1979: 79)

The eschatology of LOTR is only one link in the chain of stories that form the mythical

complex. It often draws on previous tales and will just as often influence succeeding

narratives. Different stories might even overlap, and this might blur the beginning or

ending of a story. According to Bakhtin, this need not be a problem, as both the ending

and beginning are arbitrary:

The structure of the whole is repeated in each part, and each part is complete and circular like the whole. One may begin the story at any moment, and finish at any moment. (Bakhtin 1981b: 31)

If a narrative has no clear ending or beginning, the reader gets the impression that the

story extends both infinitely into the past and into the future. This is very much the case in

LOTR, which essentially tells the story of Frodo and the Ring. But the book is a sequel to

The Hobbit, which tells the tale of Bilbo and the Ring. For a good understanding of the

narrative, a synopsis of The Hobbit is included in the prologue. This takes the reader back

one generation in time. As the reader gets more information about the Ring, he realises

that Frodo’s quest for its destruction is only one phase in the long history of the Ring. He is

the last in a line of Ringbearers which we can trace back from Frodo over Bilbo, Gollum

and Isildur to Sauron. This brings us back no less than a whole age in time.28 Gandalf

knows that the story of the Ring is a very long one:

‘Ah!’ said Gandalf. ‘that is a very long story. The beginnings lie back in the black years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If I were to tell you all that tale, we should be still be sitting here when Spring had passed into winter.’

(Lotr, 50)

From the perspective of the whole story of the Ring, Bilbo’s birthday party is a rather

arbitrary beginning to the narrative of LOTR. Tolkien problematises the beginning of the

narrative and in this way he challenges the reader to reflect on the narrative structure: the

reader has to determine himself where the story begins, and in trying to do so, he will find

himself digging deeper and deeper into the history of Middle-earth.

A second way in which Tolkien draws the reader’s attention to the place of LOTR in the

greater mythical structure, is by having his characters give meta-commentary on the

structure of the story. Sam and Frodo, as lovers of stories, have a clear insight in the

28

Of course, one should ideally adopt an even wider perspective, and trace the story further back in time. But this is very hard for the reader if he has not read the Silmarillion. Sauron, who forged the one Ring, was originally the lieutenant of Morgoth. Morgoth is the name Melkor adopted after he had fallen from grace. Melkor was the first amongst the Valar (the angels, one could say) that served the one God Iluvatar. Melkor is a sort of Lucifer figure, who falls from grace and then functions as a kind of counterforce to the goodness of the God. We see that the story of LOTR finds its very roots in a conflict between two Gods that goes back to the time when Middle-earth didn’t even exist yet.

43

structure of their own narrative. First, Sam compares their story to that of Beren the one

hand29. Then he realises that they are part of one and the same story:

‘Why, to think of it, we’re in the same tale still! It’s going on. Don’t the great tales never end?’ ‘No, they never end as tales,’ said Frodo. ‘But people in them come, and go when their part’s ended.’ (Lotr, 697)

Tolkien depicts the mythical complex as one long story, with different chapters which are

centred around different heroes that come and go. The Lord of the Rings is presented as

the edition of a real book, The Red Book of Westermarch, which was compiled by Bilbo,

Frodo and Sam. Although this book covers only a part of the mythical cycle, it is has the

same structure, as it is built up out of different sequences that evolve around successively

Bilbo, Frodo and Sam. What is striking is that throughout the book, characters explicitly

hand over their role as an actor and writer to the next person. The first chapters of the Red

Book concern the adventures of Bilbo, which have been published as The Hobbit. As

Frodo takes the quest upon himself in Rivendell, Gandalf explains to Bilbo that his part has

been taken over by Frodo:

I should say that your part is ended, unless as a recorder. Finish your book, and leave the ending unaltered! There is still hope for it. But get ready to write a sequel, when they come back. (Lotr, 263)

When Frodo passes through Rivendell again on his return from his quest, he receives the

book from Bilbo, so he can add his own chapters to the story. When Frodo’s chapters

have been written, the book is passed on to Sam:

‘Why, you have nearly finished it, Mr. Frodo!’ Sam exclaimed [...] ‘I have quite finished, Sam,’ said Frodo. ‘The last pages are for you.’ (Lotr, 1004)

Sam’s chapters might conclude the Red Book, but they are by no means the end to the

story. Sam reflects on this as he wonders about the future: ‘I wonder how it will go on after

our part’ (Lotr, 929). This sense of endlessness does not come as a complete surprise, as

it was already anticipated at the beginning of the book:

Don’t adventures ever have an end? I suppose not. Someone else always has to carry on the story. Well it can’t be helped. (Lotr, 226)

The sense of endlessness is also reflected in the very structure of the narrative of LOTR,

which has a whole sequence of endings: the destruction of the Ring, the restoration of

Middle-earth, the restoration of the Shire, the passing of Frodo, Bilbo, Gandalf, Elrond,

29

Beren undertakes a quest to steal the Silmaril from the iron crown in Thangorodrim, which is very similar to the quest of Frodo and Sam to destroy the Ring in the furnace of Mount Doom, In both stories, the heroes penetrate into the heart of the enemy kingdom, and return victorious. Beren looses a hand, and Frodo looses a finger. This perfectly illustrates Bakhtin’s insights: The separate stories are often structured in the same way, as they mirror the structure of the overarching mythical complex.

44

Galadriel and other elves to the undying lands and Sam’s return home. Further endings

are added in the appendices, where we get information about the life and death of Sam,

Merry, Pippin, Aragorn and Arwen. Walker has argued that ‘The point of all this finality, this

ending beyond ending, is of course that nothing, whether ages or individuals or narratives

worth beginning, ever really in the most important senses ends.’ (Walker 1973:120)30

One last interesting aspect of the Red Book of Westermarch I would like to draw the

reader’s attention to is its titles. As chapters were added to the book, new titles had to be

found that would fit the content. As a result, ‘the title page had many titles on it, crossed

out one after another’ (Lotr, 1004) The first title, ‘My Diary’, refers to Bilbo’s life before he

went on his quest, whereas the subsequent title refers to that quest: ‘My Unexpected

Journey’. This title is later changed into ‘There and Back Again’ in order to reflect the

structure of the narrative more aptly. This title stresses the circular shape of the plot and

makes it clear that the mission chronotope is dominant. As the story of the Ring is

continued by Frodo, Bilbo finds he has to add something to the title. The new title reads:

‘There and Back Again. And what Happened After.’ All these titles share one

characteristic: they all focus on the character of Bilbo.

This changes in the next title, where Bilbo takes not just himself, but also Frodo, Sam,

Merry and Pippin as the heroes of the story:

Adventures of Five Hobbits. The Tale of the Great Ring, compiled by Bilbo Baggings from his own observations and the accounts of his friends. What we did in the War of the Ring. (Lotr,1004)

By the time Frodo hands over the book to Sam, its title reads:31

THE DOWNFALL OF THE

LORD OF THE RINGS AND THE

RETURN OF THE KING (Lotr, 1004)

Frodo’s title strongly emphasises the moment of the eschaton. This is the most important

story moment in the novel: it is the very moment where the timeless mythical harmony

surfaces in the linear story of the mission chronotope.

30

There can be serious doubts as to whether evil in the form of Sauron is really defeated. The description of his death is very telling: ‘A voice bodiless and thin that died, and was swallowed up, and was never heard again in that age of this world.’ (Lotr, 824, my emphasis) It is perfectly possible, and even likely, that in the next age, evil will take form again, and will threat Middle-earth once more. 31

As we have already indicated, more chapters will be added by Sam. Possibly, this will have an effect on the title of the book. Unfortunately, Tolkien gives the reader no information as to any title devised by Sam.

45

2.3. The eschaton and eucatastrophe: when the mythical roots come to the surface

2.3.1. Theoretical framework

Tolkien’s fiction orchestrates a crescendo of conclusion, an almost apocalyptic vision of finality. (Walker 1973: 114)

This moment of conclusion is what Keunen has labelled ‘het apocalyptisch eschaton’

(Keunen 2005: 95). This is the crucial phase in the eschatological plot: it is the end of the

world, but at the same time it also carries in it the seeds of a new beginning. A new world

will arise out of the ruins and rubble of the old world. In LOTR, this apocalyptic moment is

the destruction of the Ring: ‘He knew all the hazards and perils were now drawing together

to a point: the next day would be a day of Doom, the day of final effort or disaster, the last

gasp’ (Lotr,919). It marks the shift from the third Age to the Fourth Age. After the

destruction of the Ring, Gandalf makes it very clear that the third age has irrevocably

ended: ‘The third Age was my age. I was the enemy of Sauron; and my work is finished. I

shall go soon.’ (Lotr, 950)

It is the positive aspect, however, which is important in the eschaton. The eschaton is

always the moment of a new beginning. Here, this is symbolised by the beginning of the

New Year:

In Gondor the New Year will always now begin upon the twenty fifth of March when Sauron fell (Lotr, 931)

This new beginning is always modelled on a Golden Age in a distant past. The mythical

perfection is projected in a distant past, but is realised in the eschaton. Therefore, the

eschaton is the moment where the mythical regularity is exposed:

in de eindtijd wordt de mythische samenhang die van in den beginne bedoeld was, ongestoord geopenbaard. (Keunen 2005: 95)

This idea of revelation, the idea that something is disclosed which would otherwise remain

concealed from the reader, is an element we also find in Tolkien’s concept of

eucatastrophe. This term, which Tolkien advances in his essay On Fairy-stories,

resembles the concept of the eschaton in more than one way.

For Tolkien, eucatastrophe is

The consolation of fairy-stories, the joy of the happy ending: or more correctly, of the good catastrophe, the sudden joyous ‘turn’ (for there is no true end to any fairy tale [and myth for that matter]) (Tolkien 1990: 153)

The eucatastrophe is the counterpart of the catastrophe in tragedy. It is the essential

element of all epics and fairy-stories. It is the moment where the evangelium is revealed:

46

it denies (in the face of much evidence, if you will) universal final defeat and in so far is evangelium, giving a fleeting glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world. (Tolkien 1990: 153)

Throughout the story, the hero is tested by an evil power that threatens his homeland. This

is the period of unrest and disequilibrium in the eschatological plot. In the end, however,

when good overcomes evil, the story offers a more positive image to the reader, as a new

period of peace starts. This moment of evangelium reveals a Joy that goes beyond the

world we know. The Joy also goes beyond the borders of the text:

When the sudden ‘turn’ comes we get a piercing glimpse of joy, and heart’s desire, that for a moment passes outside the frame, rends indeed the very web of story, and lets a gleam come through. (Tolkien 1990: 154)

The joy is too overwhelming to be contained within the borders of the eschatological plot. It

offers a glimpse of something more fundamental, something ethereal which cannot be fully

captured in the story.

The evangelium resembles the mythical regularity. Both fulfil the deepest desire of the

human heart: the desire for regularity and joy. Both are revealed at a crucial point in the

story: the evangelium is disclosed in the eucatastrophe and the mythical regularity is

exposed in the eschaton. Furthermore, both concepts refer to a disruption of the

eschatological plot, a crack in the narrative through which we can perceive the

fundamental ideas and values that underlie and inform its shape. The only difference is

that the mythical regularity is projected in a faraway past in the case of the eschatology,

whereas in the case of eucatastrophe it is a transcendental, otherworldly concept, which

comes very close to religion.

The moment when Frodo is sailing away from Middle-earth and catches a first glimpse of

the undying lands is a perfect illustration of how Tolkien’s transcendental evangelium and

the eschaton as defined by Keunen can smoothly merge:

Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Tom Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise. (Lotr, 1007)

Tolkien clearly tried to live up to the demands he himself had placed on the fairytale genre

in his essay On Fairy-stories. The reader gets the ‘fleeting glimpse of Joy’ which is typical

of the evangelium. (Tolkien 1990: 154) This joy is clearly, and even literally, ‘beyond the

walls of the world’ (Tolkien 1990: 154), since Frodo has left Middle-earth and lays his eyes

on a place which no mortal has beheld before. It is clearly a moment of revelation, for the

rain functions as a veil that is drawn back. What is revealed is not only a prelapsarian

47

world32, an echo of the Christian Paradise. The undying lands are just as well an evocation

of mythical harmony.

The undying lands are explicitly linked to mythical harmony through the reference to the

land of Tom Bombadil. We have already seen in the first chapter how Tom’s country has

all the characteristics of the idyllic chronotope. Keunen has described the idyllic

chronotope as a profane myth: ‘in zekere zin zijn idylles reeds mythes, maar dan in de zin

van profane mythes.’ (Keunen 2005: 82) The idyll reflects the same regularity as myth;

only, this regularity is reduced to human proportions. The cyclical pattern of myth, for

example, which spans many ages, is reflected in the idyll in the seasonal cycles which are

visible to the individual. The regularity and harmony that Frodo sees as he gets a glimpse

of the undying lands is of the same quality as the harmony in the idyll, and is therefore

fundamentally mythical in nature.

2.3.2. Concrete realisation of the eschaton We have indicated that LOTR is an eschatology, which thematises the shift from the Third

to the Fourth age. But how is this eschaton realised, and how exactly does Tolkien

represent the return of mythical harmony?

The return of mythical harmony is presented as the destruction of evil and the dawn of a

new Golden Age. This Golden Age takes the form of an idyllic space. The structure of

LOTR is exceptional, however, in that evil is annihilated in two movements. As a result of

this doubling, we are confronted with the advent of two Golden Ages.

Evil is destroyed for the first time as the Ring is ‘unmade’ in the fires of Mount Doom. This

event is important for the whole of Middle-earth. The restoration of Minas Tirith functions

as a synecdoche and symbolises the return of harmony throughout the whole of Middle-

earth – with the exception of Hobbiton. Later on in the story, evil has to be destroyed a

second time; this time in the Shire. Harmony returns as the Shire is restored to its initial

idyllic state.

The division I uphold is not arbitrary. It is recognised in several analyses of the narrative

structure33, and it corresponds to the relations between different spaces as described by

Moorman: ‘Mordor stands opposed to both Shire and City.’ (Moorman 1968: 207) Places

of evil and chaos contrast with places of good and regularity. Moorman discerns two

places that evoke a sense of regularity: the idyllic space of the Shire (cf. what we have

32The undying lands are an equivalent of the Christian world before the fall. Long ago, the elves were separated in a feud. Melkor had stolen the Silmaril from Feanor, and had fled with it to Middle-earth. Feanor lead a whole army of elves to Middle-earth, against the will of the Valar, to reconquer the Silmaril. They stole ships from their fellow-elves, and killed many of them in the process. (Silmarillion) This is an echo of the fratricide of Cain. The elves that stayed in the Undying lands thus lived in a world from before the fall, whereas their brethren in Middle-earth lived in ‘sin’. 33

See for instance Petty: 1979 and Shippey: 2000

48

labelled the second return of harmony) and the city of Minis Tirith, which represents the

return of harmony on the level of Middle-earth.

We will focus only on the restoration of harmony at the level of Middle-earth, which is

represented in a very straightforward manner. The restoration of harmony in the Shire is

much more problematical, and will therefore be treated separately in chapter four.

The first step in the restoration of mythical harmony is the restoration of authority. The

reign of the stewards is ended, and Aragorn is crowned King. Aragorn is a direct

descendant of Isildur, and is therefore the only person who can legitimately claim the

throne. Everybody can see this at the coronation:

But when Aragorn arose all that beheld him gazed in silence, for it seemed to them that he was revealed to them for the first time. Tall as the sea-kings of old, he stood above all that were near; ancient of days he seemed and yet in the flower of manhood; and wisdom sat upon his brow, and strength and healing were in his hands, and a light was about him. (Lotr, 947)

For a long time Aragorn has wandered through Middle-earth as a ragged ranger under the

name of Strider. But now he is revealed in all his splendour. In this description we again

find the elements of evangelium. It is a moment of revelation, where we can see things

that otherwise remain hidden from us. Aragorn is the incarnation of the ancient sea-kings,

and so forms a living connection with the mythical past, with a Golden Age of long ago.

Yet he is just as much a window on the future. He is in the flower of his manhood, and it is

on his shoulders that the responsibility for the restoration of the kingdom is now placed:

‘The Third Age of the world is ended, and the new age is begun; and it is your task to order its beginning and to preserve what may be preserved.’ (Lotr, 949)

This is a clear allusion to the moment of the eschaton. It is the point of transition between

two ages: an ending that inevitably bears in it a new beginning. This new beginning,

however, does not serve the future, but rather serves ‘the future memory of a distant past,

a broadening of the world of the absolute past’ (Bakhtin 1982: 19). The new world will be a

reflection of a mythical golden age which is situated in a faraway past. Aragorn symbolises

this connection between future and past.

The return of mythical harmony is not only reflected in the figure of Aragorn, but also in the

restoration of the city. In the following description of Minas Tirith, reference is made

several times to the city’s former periods of glory:

And in this time the City was made more fair than it had ever been, even in the days of its first glory; and it was filled with trees and with fountains, and its gates were wrought of Mithril and steel, and its streets were paved with white marble; and the folk of the Mountain laboured in it, and the folk of the Wood rejoiced to come there; and all was healed and made good, and the houses were filled with men and women and the laughter of children, and no window

49

was blind, nor any courtyard empty; and after the ending of the Third Age of the world into the new age it preserved the memory and the glory of the years that were gone. (Lotr, 947, my emphasis)

The new state of the city not only equals, but exceeds the former glory. The mythical

Golden Age nevertheless remains the point of reference. The description is also

reminiscent of the Christian representation of paradise as a city, which is ‘een wonderstad

[…] opgetrokken uit de grootste kostbaarheden aan goud en edelstenen.’ (Pleij 1997: 23)

In Minas Tirith, the streets are paved with marble and the gates are forged of Mithril, the

most expensive ore in the whole of Middle-earth.

The importance of the restoration of Minas Tirith is aptly illustrated by Moorman, who

claims that LOTR is ‘the myth of the founding of the city’ (Moorman 1968: 203). Of course,

founding or rebuilding a city is only one of the many ways in which the return of harmony

can be represented. Therefore I do not believe that this is a legitimate or relevant criterion

on the basis of which to distinguish a subcategory of myth. Moorman’s claim is

nevertheless valuable, because it rightly draws attention to the theme of the founding of

the city, and its importance in the eschatological story.

The image of the city is of course more than merely the place, it is more than just the sum

total of all its buildings, streets and parks. The city first and foremost represents a

community. The restoration of the city thus symbolises a healthy community that has

resumed its cycle of growth. During the war, the courtyards were empty: women and

children had fled or were hiding, and the men were off to war. The idyllic matrix was

disrupted, but is now restored: ‘the houses were filled with men and women and the

laughter of children’ (Lotr, 947). Men and women are reunited, and as a result children are

born. This renewed fertility is also reflected in the marriage of Aragorn and Arwen:

‘And Aragorn the King Elessar wedded Arwen Undómiel in the City of the Kings upon the day of Midsummer, and the tale of their long waiting and labours was come to fulfilment’ (Lotr, 951)

Marriage is an element that often recurs in happy endings, but its deeper meaning is easily

overlooked. Marriage is in essence a ritual that symbolises fertility. In this quotation, it is

furthermore explicitly linked to Midsummer, an important day in the natural cycle of the

year. It appears that Tolkien wanted to stress the deeper meaning of the ritual of marriage

by reasserting its connection with nature. Marriage is described as the fruit of long waiting

and labour. This is another hint at the cyclical growth of nature as we find it in the seasonal

cycles: harvest is also the fulfilment of a year of labouring and waiting.

We can conclude that in the moment of the eschaton, the underlying mythical structure is

revealed. The reader catches a glimpse of the mythical harmony and regularity. This

harmony is often represented as the restoration of the initial idyllic situation.

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2.4. Making the mythical past tangible: synchronism and historicity

Myth and legend are omnipresent in Tolkien’s fiction. Many people have tried to identify

and list the epic conventions and motifs in LOTR. These motifs range from monsters that

guard treasure troves, over the comitatus relationship between the lord and his thanes, to

the ‘ubi-sunt’ poetry.34 These motifs, which connect LOTR with real historical epics like the

Old English Beowulf, are of no concern to us here. We want to focus on the connections

between LOTR and Tolkien’s own mythical complex, and will investigate how Tolkien

continually introduces this mythical complex in his narrative. The mythical complex is

imported in a variety of ways, but we will zoom in on the two most striking techniques:

synchronism and historicity.

Historicity, as defined by Walker, means that the narrator frequently recounts events that

lie beyond narrative chronology (Walker 1973: 112). Throughout the story, reference is

made to the myths and history of Middle Earth. In the majority of cases, these are no more

than brief hints at people or events which are completely unknown to the reader who has

not consulted the appendices or the Silmarillion. An example of this is when Frodo points

the phial of Galadriel at Shelob the giant spider and shouts the name of Elbereth. Frodo

here calls upon a mighty goddess, the wife of Manwë, the King of the Valar. (Tolkien 1978:

42) She is to Tolkienian mythology what Hera is to Greek mythology. When she is called

upon in the battle with Ungoliant, this not only scares the spider, but it also functions as

one of the many links which connect the narrative to the mythical past. This reference

remains fairly enigmatic to the majority of readers, as it is restricted to a name and is not

explained any further. Many references, however, are more elaborate, and take the form

of tales or songs. Take Treebeard’s song about the loss of the Entwives, or the multiple

references to the tale of Beren and Luthien. As these references take the form of small

tales, with rudimentary plots, they make the mythical past more tangible to the reader. The

reader is provided with landmarks, from which he or she can start to explore the mythical

complex. If readers try hard enough, they might even succeed in reconstructing the

connections between the different fragments.

In two instances, the reference to the mythical past is so elaborate that it takes up a whole

chapter. The chapters The Shadow of the Past and The Counsel of Elrond are crucial to

the story, because they graft the narrative of LOTR onto the mythical complex of Middle-

earth. In The Shadow of the Past, Gandalf tells Frodo why he believes his ring to be the

One Ring. His explanation covers the stories of Isildur, Gollum, and Bilbo. This chapter

also contains several side stories, such as the tale of how the Nazgûl, the ringwraiths,

34

For a fully detailed analysis of these and other mythical motifs in LOTR, see Simpson: 1974.

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came to be. The holes in Gandalf’s account are later filled in by several people during The

Counsel of Elrond. These references to the mythical complex are so elaborate, that even

the reader without any foreknowledge of Tolkien’s universe will gain a clear view on the

intricate interconnections between the narrative and the legends. These chapters are

crucial to the story, as they provide information without which the story could never work.

The story of The Lord of the Rings can only make sense in relation to the mythical past.

Regarding this historicity, Walker remarks that:

The resulting interconnection of legendary past and possible future with vital present is so convincing that Middle-earth attains at times to the sensation of looking backward to see forward. (Walker 1973:112)

This remark closely corresponds to Bakhtin’s concept of a ‘future memory of a past’, which

is at the heart of the myth, as we have seen earlier.

The mythical past is not solely imported into the narrative through explicit references to

that past in the form of songs and tales. Tolkien also creates the interconnection by more

subtle means. For instance, as Walker points out, even the grammar contributes to the

interweaving of mythical past and present (Walker 1973: 113). Another way to draw

attention to the interconnectedness of past and present is through the use of synchronism,

which is ‘the coexistence of times at one point in space.’ (Bakhtin 1986: 41) At any point in

time, a space will always bear marks from previous periods. These traces can be

emphasised, and so the past is imported into the present via space. Tolkien has the same

‘startling ability to see time in space’ (Bakhtin 1986: 30) as Goethe:

hills and valleys tell of the battles that took place here; remnants of antiquity can be found in etymology of the names of various places and mountains and in the customs of the population; everywhere there are markers of the historical past penetrating space. “Here you feel as though you are in a magical circle”, says Goethe”. “You equate past with the present, you contemplate general spatiality through the prism of the given immediate spatial surroundings”

(Bakhtin 1986: 48)

As with Goethe, Tolkien’s world breathes history. The landscapes are covered with the

ruins of ancient civilisations: the busts of the Púkelmen in Rohan, the graves of the men of

Westernisse in the Barrow Downs, the ruin on top of Weathertop and many other relics.

Sometimes the origins of the relics remain obscure, as is for instance the case with the

Púkelmen. But in many other cases, the ruins are occasions for contemplation and giving

information. The tour of the fellowship through the countries of Middle-earth under the

guidance of Argagorn at times comes to resemble a history lesson. One example of this is

when Aragorn explains to the hobbits that there is no barrow on Weathertop:

But long before, in the first days of the North Kingdom, they built a great watch-tower on Weathertop, Amon Sûl they called it. It was burned and broken, and

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nothing remains of it now but a tumbled ring, like a rough crown on the old hill’s head. Yet at once it was told that Elendil stood there watching for the coming of Gil-Galad out of the West, in the days of the Last Alliance. (Lotr, 181)

The ruin of Weathertop does more than just bring back memories of the past. It subtly

stresses the cyclical character of mythical time. The ruin triggers the vision of Elendil, the

king of men, who is waiting for reinforcements that will help him defeat Sauron once and

for all. Furthermore, this vision is recounted by Aragorn, who is the direct descendant of

that same Elendil, and who will be the next King of men. Aragorn passes this place on a

quest whose main goal is to defeat that same Sauron, whom people believed to have

been completely defeated by Elendil. If the tower of Amon Sûl was the background for a

heroic moment at the end of the Second Age, the ruins on Weathertop will be the place

where the fellowship has to fight the ringwraiths at the end of the Third Age.

The history of a place can also be reflected in the placename. Every name tells a story,

and if a place is known by multiple names, this reflects different moments in its history.

One example must suffice to illustrate the complexity that can be hidden under one

placename. On their way to Mount Doom, Frodo and Sam pass Minas Morgul, the Tower

of Black Magic. This name refers to the witch-king of Angmar, who has made it his

haunting place. The tower, however, was originally built by the Men of Westernisse in

order to guard Mordor. The place was then called Minas Ithil, the Tower of the Moon. Its

counterpart was built in Gondor, and was called Minas Anor, the Tower of the Sun. When

Minas Ithil was overtaken by Morgoth, its name was changed to Minas Morgul. The men of

Westernisse had lost their guard tower, and that function was taken over by Minas Anor,

which was from that point onwards called Minas Tirith, the Tower of Guard. Minas Tirith is

the name of the city at the moment when our heroes defend it. This example clearly

illustrates how a placename resonates with the mythic past of the site it indicates.35

A place not only bears traces of the past, but it also contains the seeds of the future:

contemporaneity […] is revealed as an essential multitemporality: as remnants or relics of various stages and formations of the past and as rudiments of stages in the more or less distant future. (Bakhtin 1986: 28)

This multitemporality is clearly visible in a place called the Cross-roads. Here we find a

ruined monument once erected by the men of Westernisse:

[It was] a huge sitting figure, still and solemn as the great stone kings of Argonath. The years had gnawed it, and violent hands had maimed it. Its head was gone, and in its place was set in mockery a round rough-hewn stone, rudely

35

Again the present is an echo of the past. The title of the second part of LOTR, The Two Towers, is by many readers taken to refer to the opposition between the towers of Orthanc and Barad-Dûr. These, however, are not the only twin-towers. Minas Tirith and Minas Morgul form just as much –and probably even more- an inseparable duo. The theme of two towers that are opposed to each other can be found in the mythical past, and is taken up again in the war of the Ring.

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painted by savage hands in the likeness of a grinning face with one large red eye in the midst of its forehead. (Lotr, 687)

The monument is a direct reference to the times when the Kings still ruled Middle-earth. It

is the relic of a golden Age. At the same time it poignantly expresses the contemporary

situation: the king is beheaded, and the eye of Sauron has taken its place. The scene,

however, continues with a description of the fallen head which offers a glimpse of the

future. The sun falls on the fallen head which is crowned with flowers, and this causes

Sam to exclaim that ‘The king has got a crown again!’ (Lotr, 687). This is an anticipation of

the crowning of Aragorn, and the defeat of Sauron. The symbolism is brought to a head

when Aragorn passes the place some two hundred pages later:

The hideous orc-head that was set upon the carven figure was cast down and broken in pieces, and the old king’s head was raised and set in its place once more, still crowned with white and golden flowers; and men laboured to wash and pare away all the foul scrawls that orcs had put upon the stone. (Lotr, 866)

The statue not only functions as a link between the mythical past and the present, it

moreover reflects the structure of the mission chronotope. The monument in its original

state symbolises the initial state of harmony, the mythical Golden Age. The decapitated

and besmeared monument reflects the state of chaos, when the powers of evil have

temporarily taken over, and threaten to destroy the powers of good. The restoration of the

monument, finally, symbolises the return of harmony, and the dawn of the new Golden

Age.

We can conclude that a chronotopical study of the mythical elements in LOTR sheds a

new light on the subject, and provides insights which remain hidden from conventional

approaches such as the search for structural borrowings or content borrowings.

We find that the story of LOTR is only one link in the chain of stories out of which the

mythical complex is built up. The eschaton is the moment where the mythical foundation

pierces the narrative. It is here that the mythical regularity surfaces. Throughout the

narrative, reference is made to the mythical background. Two main techniques are used to

this purpose: synchronism and historicity.

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CHAPTER 3 | REACHING TOWARDS MODERNITY : THE DIALOGICAL CHRONOTOPE OF THE BILDUNGSROMAN 1. INTRODUCTION Critics have often stressed the epic qualities of The Lord of the Rings, comparing it to the

Nordic myths, the Swedish Kalevala and, most often, to the Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf36.

Many critics have placed the novel in this canon of ancient texts, and have meticulously

exposed the links between these works and Tolkien’s novel, tracing the many sources

Tolkien drew upon in writing his book. Insightful and fruitful though this research may be, it

has one major drawback, in that its focus is on ancient texts, and fails to acknowledge that

LOTR was not orally transmitted during the Germanic migrations and written down in the

middle ages, like the works it is compared to, but rather is the work of a twentieth century

author, and as such is bound to be different in fundamental ways from those ancient epics.

Tom Shippey warns us for this blind spot in Tolkien criticism. Although he acknowledges

‘that Tolkien cannot be properly discussed without some considerable awareness of the

ancient works and the ancient world which he tried to revive’, he emphasises that

‘[Tolkien] needs also to be looked at and interpreted within his own time, as an ‘author of

the century’, the twentieth century, responding to the issues and the anxieties of that

century.’ (Shippey 2000: xxvii)

It is our aim to trace some of these modern elements in the novel. For didactic purposes,

these are grouped around the third major chronotope in this study: the dialogical

chronotope. This chronotope takes the form of a Bildungsroman which is constructed

around Frodo.

Here we focus on an important aspect of Tolkien’s work, which is too often overlooked.

Many critics restrict their research to ‘the archetypical implications of the quest motif’

(Walker 1973: 123). All attention is directed to what we have labelled the mission

chronotope. Walker rightly points out, however, that to this classical quest motif is added

‘the developmental movement of Bildungsroman.’ (Walker 1973: 123) In the

36

In his book ‘Modernised myth’, Simpson investigates the kinship between Beowulf and LOTR, and comes to the conclusion that ‘Tolkien essentially recreated Beowulf when he wrote LOTR.’ (Simpson 1974: 95) This study is so eager to place Tolkien among the canonical works, that it is blind for the modern elements in Tolkien’s work. Charles Moorman suffers from the same blindness when he claims that: ‘LOTR is essentially a Nordic Myth and its distinctive qualities become clear only when it is approached as a myth rather than as a novel or as a children’s book or even as fantasy.’ (Moorman 1968: 210)

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Bildungsroman, the focus is on the psychological development of Frodo. Bakhtin has

labelled this development emergence. We will examine how Frodo emerges, and how his

pattern of emergence is connected to his environment.

The Bildungsroman is connected to what Keunen labels a dialogical chronotope. This

chronotope is structured by ‘geïnterioriseerde vormen van evenwicht en conflict’ (Keunen

2007b: 88), and as such is ideally suited to describe the psychological development of a

character. Emergence of a character does not develop along a straight line, but ‘bestaat

uit een netwerk van bewustzijnsknooppunten dat voortdurend verschuift en op reis lijkt te

zijn.’ (Keunen 2007b: 86). Characters stand in a dialogical relationship to each other.

The Bildungsroman in Lotr is worth our attention for different reasons. First and foremost,

the presence of the Bildungsroman is the very point in which LOTR differs from its epic

sources. If this aspect is often neglected by critics, this is very unfortunate as Keunen

rightfully points out: ‘Hoewel men als recipiënt de vrijheid heeft om te passen voor een

[dialogische lezing] verliest de communicatie aan kwaliteit als men verzaakt aan de

dialogische beeldvorming’ (Keunen 2007b: 88)

Secondly, the dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman is the most modern of the

chronotopes identified so far37, and as such is ideally suited as a basis fore examining the

modern elements in LOTR. It would be incorrect to claim that modern elements are

completely restricted to this dialogical chronotope, but we can maintain that the most

significant modern elements can be related to it. Our focus is on Frodo, an essentially

modern hero, and his personal development. The hero has to construct a personal identity

in a rapidly changing environment, and has to find a way to be at home in the

homelessness of the modern world. It becomes apparent that this is the point where we

pay attention to internal developments. Plot becomes partly interiorised. This process of

interiorization is, as we shall later see, typical of the modern socius

2. THE PLOT OF EMERGENCE AND ITS RELATION TO THE ENVIRONMENT

The Bildungsroman is constructed around a character -in this case Frodo- that changes

psychologically, a person who emerges. Emergence is the translation of stanovlenie, the

Russian term Bakhtin originally used, and by which he wanted to stress the continual

process of development. Bakhtin insists that ‘identity is never complete, but always in

37

It comes as no surprise then that Moretti describes the Bildungsroman as ‘the ‘symbolic form’ of modernity’ (Moretti 2000: 5)

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process.’ (Bakhtin 1986: 55) According to Walker, this type of emergence can also be

found in LOTR:

‘In Middle-earth, character is not so much a state of being as a perpetual process of becoming, the present self less a finished product than a blueprint of future possibilities’ (Walker 1973: 134)

A character never develops in a vacuum. He is always firmly anchored in time and place,

and these factors strongly determine the development. Bakhtin cautions the reader to take

notice of how the process of emergence is influenced by place and, most importantly,

time.

‘A human being can, however, emerge in quite different ways. Everything depends on the degree of assimilation of real historical time. (Bakhtin 1986: 21)

Bakhtin distinguishes two different situations: a cyclical environment, which excludes

historical time, and a changing environment, with its typical high assimilation of historical

time. This distinction is relevant to our study, because Frodo moves from a cyclical

environment -the Shire- to a changing world –the world of Middle-earth, which is making

the shift from the third to the fourth Age.

2.1. Emergence in a cyclical environment A cyclical space does not allow character development as it is demanded by the

Bildungsroman. In order to enable the emergence of character, the space has to be

modified. We will determine how the space is adapted, and what effect these changes

have on the development of the hero.

2.1.1. The problematic nature of the cyclical environment The most important cyclical environment in LOTR is the idyllic chronotope of the Shire.

This space, typified by cyclical time, functions as a static backdrop for the first stage of

Frodo’s emergence.

‘Man emerged, but the world itself did not. On the contrary, the world was an immobile orientation point for developing man. Man’s emergence was his private affair, as it were, and the results of his emergence were also private and biographical in nature.’ (Bakhtin 1986: 23)

This particular context gives rise to a specific form of emergence:

‘In idyllic time one can depict man’s path from childhood through youth and maturity to old age, showing all those essential internal changes in a person’s nature and views that take place in him as he grows older.’ (Bakhtin 1986: 22)

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The development of man adopts the same cyclical structure as its environment. The cycle

from youth over maturity to old age is repeated generation after generation, just as the

seasonal cycles are repeated year after year. Moretti labels this ‘‘pre-scribed’ youth’, by

which he means that ‘each individual’s youth faithfully repeats that of his forebears,

introducing him to a role that lives on unchanged.’ (Moretti 2000: 4) This pattern of

emergence is of course not very interesting to the reader. This is why the ‘cyclical (purely

age-oriented) novel’ (Bakhtin 1986: 22) has never been created in its pure form. Only

elements of it can be found in stories.

We have seen that the prologue of LOTR, with its description of hobbit society, comes

very close to a pure form of the idyllic chronotope. Two factors hamper the emergence of

an individual character here, or even make it impossible: time and collective perspective.

Time in the prologue is the cyclical time so typical of the idyll, which tends to a stasis and

stands in opposition with the adventure time of popular stories:

Mythes [en ook de idylle, die een ‘profane mythe’ is] kennen geen doelgericht gedrag en schakelen dus ook het toevallige en contingentie uit – net dat wat nodig was in verhalen om van een spel met tijdsconcepten te spreken.

(Keunen 2005: 88)

Without the teleological behaviour of the hero, which allows for unexpected events to

occur, there can be no suspense. Without suspense, a writer can never construct a pattern

of emergence that is captivating. This problem is closely related to ‘the ancient and

notorious problem of depicting the good’, which says that ‘untested goodness,

unthreatened happiness are hard to make dramatic’. (Elliott 1970: 117) Even Tolkien

seems to be aware of this, and has his narrator say in The Hobbit:

It is a strange thing, but things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about and not much to listen to (The Hobbit, 48)

The cyclical time is not the only factor which renders an interesting pattern of emergence

impossible. Another problem is the collective perspective. In the most rigid interpretation of

the definition, the idyllic chronotope leaves no room for individual heroes or characters: its

subject is a collective body, a homogenous group of people, not an individual. This

chronotope is ideal for exposing the world order and commenting on it, but it does not

allow the author to write a captivating narrative with an emerging hero. The most striking

feature of the prologue, now, is that it successfully adopts a collective perspective. This is

problematic for the development of Frodo. As a matter of fact, he is not even mentioned.

Frodo is an individual, and as such is not wanted in the pure idyll.

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Wells complains about this lack of the individual hero in idylls38: ‘That which is the blood

and warmth and reality of life is largely absent; there are no individualities, but only

generalised people.’ (In Elliott 1970: 116) There is ‘geen plaats voor individuele

problemen’ (Keunen 2005: 88). Constructing a story around a collective body inevitably

implies denying the reader a hero of flesh and blood, a single individual with whom he can

identify.

A way to preserve as many features of the idyllic chronotope as possible, and at the same

time keep the story interesting for the reader, is to ‘shift [the] emphasis full onto the

character’. (Elliott 1970: 116) Elliot has described the result of this shift for The Oasis, a

story by Mary McCarthy:

Instead of showing in detail the problems of founding a utopian community and the principles by which it operates, she takes its establishment largely for granted […], then turns her cold eye on the [inhabitants] who make it up.

(Elliott 1970: 116)

This is almost exactly what Tolkien does in LOTR. The only difference is that in the

prologue, Tolkien does show how the idyllic community came to be, and he explicitly

dwells on the principles by which it operates. This is how he was able to adopt a collective

perspective. However, he makes the shift towards character –thus allowing the individual

to appear- in the first chapter, were we find a concretization of the idyll. A long expected

party, the first chapter of book one, introduces the colourful characters of Bilbo, Sam,

Merry and Pippin, and many more. This shift towards character is accompanied by a

change in the environment itself.

2.1.2. Modification of the cyclical environment 2.1.2.1. The chronotope of the provincial town The Shire is without doubt a very agreeable place for a Hobbit to live. Nevertheless, the

concrete space and community as they are presented in the first chapter do not

completely live up to the Edenic harmony of the prologue. The Shire turns out not to be a

mythical Eden, but a real place; and as such it is not without its faults:

But for all its good humor and simplicity, the Shire is static, self-satisfied, complacent. It is by no means an Eden, for although the Shire is free from major crimes, there are the inevitable feuds and squabbles.

( Moorman 1968: 204)

The Shire is no longer a pure example of the idyllic chronotope. Simonson has suggested

that the Shire is more ‘similar to the “chronotope of the provincial town”’ (Simonson 2006:

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Wells’ comment actually concerns stories of Utopia. But since stories of Utopia are a specific realisation of the idyllic chronotope, just like stories about the Golden age, Cockaigne or Paradise, the observation on the story of Utopia is also relevant for the idyllic chronotope in general.

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note 3). I believe the distinction between both terms is relevant, as they refer to entities

that differ significantly from each other. Firstly, the chronotope of the provincial town no

longer represents a timeless and mythical place which is inhabited by farmers. Like its

inhabitants, the Shire can now be placed chronologically. Hobbits are ‘roughly Victorian to

Edwardian’ (Shippey 2000: 6) The Shire, as a chronotope of the provincial town, is typical

of the Victorian novel:

‘The traditions that Tolkien uses to portray this world [of the Shire] belong fundamentally to the realm of the novel, especially the Victorian novel.

(Simonson 2006: note 3)

Secondly, the chronotope of the provincial town differs from the idyllic chronotope, in that it

allows characters to emerge along the pattern of the Bildungsroman. The hero can now

develop in any way he chooses, regardless of the opinion of his community. Naves points

out that ‘the hero’s self imposed alienation from his fellow countrymen is a typical feature

of novels set in provincial towns’ (Simonson 2006: 99). This is an echo of Bakhtin, who

states that while in the idyll ‘there were no heroes alien to the idyllic world’, in the

provincial novel ‘one occasionally finds a hero who has broken away from the wholeness

of his locale’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 231). The significance of the Shire in chapter one is notably

different from the meaning it had in the prologue. One of the major differences is that the

Shire of chapter one allows the characters to emerge in a different way. We will now look

in more detail at the nature of this new pattern of emerge.

2.1.2.2. From pre-scribed pattern of emergence to social exploration When the environment changes, this is bound to have an influence on the patterns of

emergence of its inhabitants. From the first chapter onwards, the idyll is not exclusively

inhabited by a collective community or families or generations of people who are destined

to follow in the exact footsteps of their forefathers. Rather, some of its inhabitants are

individuals, complete with their own psyche and free to make choices. The space has still

many characteristics of the idyll, and many people will choose what is socially most

accepted, and will follow in their father’s footsteps. Yet, since some people use their

freedom to make other choices, the process of emergence ‘is no longer the slow and

predictable progress towards one’s father’s work, but rather an uncertain exploration of

social space’ (Moretti 2000: 4) This exploration of social space is often represented

through travelling and wandering, and the figure of the bohemian. The imagery of

travelling and adventure is of course obvious in Frodo’s perilous quest through the

countries of Middle-earth. But I would argue that the imagery of wandering is already

present in the shire.

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So it went on, until his forties were running out, and his fiftieth birthday was drawing near: fifty was a number that he felt was somehow significant (or ominous); it was at any rate at that age that adventure had suddenly befallen Bilbo. Frodo began to feel restless, and the old paths seemed too well-trodden. He looked at maps, and wondered what lay beyond their edges: maps made in the Shire showed mostly white spaces beyond its borders. He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously. Often he was seen talking with strange wayfarers that began at this time to appear in the Shire.

(Lotr, 42, my emphasis)

There are many elements here that are indicative of a pattern of emergence which is

different from the pre-scribed pattern of the idyllic community. Firstly, Frodo’s lust for

wandering is stressed. This image of social exploration recurs several times. The reader

learns for instance that ‘To the amazement of sensible folk he was sometimes seen far

from home walking in the hills and woods under the starlight’ (Lotr, 41) Moretti stresses

that the mobility of the hero, and the exploration it symbolises, also generates ‘an

interiority not only fuller than before, but also […] perennially dissatisfied and restless.’

(Moretti 2000: 4) This is the second element we can find in the quotation. Frodo is

described as ‘restless’, and he voices his dissatisfaction later on in the chapter: ‘I thought

the inhabitants [of the Shire] too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an

earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them.’ (Lotr, 61). We see that the

interiority of Frodo is already being developed in the Shire. This comes as no surprise, as

it is very much in keeping with my observations on the modification of the idyllic

chronotope of the Shire and the shift of focus towards the individual and its psychological

aspects. Thirdly, we see that in his exploration of the social space, Frodo looks beyond the

familiar. His field of interest is not contained within the borders of the Shire. He is seen

talking with passing travellers. This illustrates that Frodo is receptive to other worldviews.

Again, this is a long way removed from a ‘pre-scribed emergence’. Another way Frodo’s

susceptibility is represented is through his desire to travel beyond the limits of the Shire:

He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams (Lotr, 42)

This social exploration is threatening to an idyllic community, as it risks disrupting the

social order and dismantling the continuity between generations. This explains why his

friends ‘watched him anxiously’. The hobbit community reacts to his attitude with

disapproval; they find him queer, and believe no good will come of his actions.

And to all appearance [Frodo] did settle down, but the growth of hobbit-sense was not very noticeable. Indeed, he at once began to carry on Bilbo’s reputation for oddity. (Lotr, 41)

Of course this negative evaluation of Frodo is ironised by the author. If Frodo was to follow

the advice of the community not to get involved with elves and dragons, but in stead stick

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to ‘cabbages and potatoes’, the novel would not be an interesting read. The reader is

inclined to disagree with the idyllic community, and sympathise with Frodo. Thus, they will

evaluate him more positively, and label him interesting, rather than queer. Indifferent from

how one evaluates the difference, however, the fact remains that Frodo essentially is

different from the rest of the hobbits. First of all, he is an immigrant from ‘Buckland, where

the folks are so queer’ (Lotr, 22). He was born a Took, and thus has the blood of the most

adventurous family among hobbits running through his veins. But this is not that

exceptional: more Tooks live in Hobbiton. What really sets Frodo apart from the other

hobbits, is that he is ‘a scholar in the ancient tongue’, an ‘Elf-friend’, just like his uncle

Bilbo (Lotr, 79). In the beginning this is not completely clear to the reader. All we know is

that ‘Merry and Pippin suspected that he visited the elves at times, as Bilbo had done.’

(Lotr, 41). But Tom Bombadil is formal: ‘I see you are an elf-friend; the light in your eyes

and the ring in your voice tells it.’ (Lotr, 122). Tom also tell us here that being an elf-friend

is more than just knowing some of the elves personally and being able to communicate

with them. It is something deeper and more fundamental. Contact with the elves changes

you within, and changes your personality. This is why Tom can see it in Frodo’s eyes and

hear it in Frodo’s voice. The contact with the elves has broadened Frodo’s worldview and

has made him something more than a hobbit.

Even though Frodo is different from the other hobbits, we must stress that his idiosyncratic

side is largely suppressed as long as he lives in the Shire. He is a wanderer, but his

journeys are no more than strolls through the Hobbiton-countryside. Initially, he doesn’t

leave the borders. He plays with the idea of crossing the borders, but he doesn’t do so:

He began to say to himself: ‘Perhaps I shall cross the river myself one day.’ To which the other half of his mind always replied: ‘Not yet.’ (Lotr, 42)

Frodo’s journey is first and foremost a way to get away from the Shire. All he desires is to

leave the place in which he is growing up, and he has never really considered where to go:

‘I have been so taken up by the thoughts of leaving Bag end, and of saying farewell, that I

have never considered the direction’ (Lotr, 65). The fact that he has not really thought

about where he wants to go makes the reader doubt whether Frodo seriously considered

actually leaving the Shire. We get the impression that Frodo was happy enough just

playing around with the idea, dreaming of foreign countries. When the time has come for

Frodo to leave the Shire, he has to acknowledge that he loves the Shire more than he had

initially thought.

Bag End seemed a more desirable residence than it had for years, and he wanted to savour as much as he could of his last summer in the Shire.

(Lotr, 64)

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We can conclude that, in the cyclical environment of the Shire, most hobbits develop along

the pre-scribed pattern of emergence, and follow in the footsteps of their fathers. On the

other hand, we found that the cyclical processes move to the background in favour of the

individual and its psychological development. This enables a character to develop in a way

that deviates from the strictly pre-scribed pattern. Frodo is the only hobbit whose

development is typified by social exploring. He is critical towards his own community, and

susceptible to other worldviews, and this is reflected is his urge to travel. His adventurous

side is still largely suppressed, however, and will only fully come to develop as he crosses

the borders of the Shire, and sets out on his quest through the ever changing environment

of Middle-earth.

2.2. Emergence in the changing environment of Middle-earth Once Frodo crosses the borders of the Shire, he leaves the idyll behind and enters a world

of contingency. It is a shift from a cyclical space to an emerging world, a world that is in a

constant process of development. This shift in space inevitably has an influence on the

development of the hero:

[man’s emergence] is no longer man’s private affair. He emerges along with the world and he reflects the historical emergence of the world itself. He is no longer within an epoch, but on the border between two epochs, at the transition point from one to the other. This transition is accomplished in him and through him. (Bakhtin 1986: 23)

Bakhtin identifies three constituent parts of this type of emergence. Firstly, the world in

which the emergence takes place is a changing world. Secondly, the emergence of the

character runs parallel with that of the world. Finally, because the emergence of the

character and the world are so closely interconnected, the character’s emergence is no

longer his private affair.

If we want to establish whether emergence of this type is possible in LOTR, the first thing

we have to investigate is whether Middle-earth can be considered a changing

environment.

That Middle-earth is a world on the border between two epochs, is self evident. LOTR tells

the story of how Middle-earth makes the shift from the third to the fourth Age. The story

begins at the end of the third Age, when the first signs of change are becoming visible.

Smoke rises again from Mount Doom, orcs are multiplying, and are coming down from the

mountains. These are signs that ‘the nameless enemy has risen again’. (Lotr, 239) His

forces are spreading over Middle-earth, corrupting everything on their path. ‘The shadow

grows and draws nearer’ (Lotr, 293), and its effects can be seen all over Middle-earth.

Messengers of the Dark Lord have been sent to the men of Dale and to the dwarves of the

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lonely mountain. The men of Gondor are defending their borders against the powers of

Sauron, and the Riders of the Mark are plagued by raiding orcs. Middle-earth is engaged

in a total war. It is a place of constant change: borders change as battles are lost or won,

allies turn into enemies as they are misguided by Sauron. Frodo journeys ‘through a world

whose people exist in states of continual conflict, threat, migration and vagrancy’ (Malpas

2005: 86). It is a world out of control, where nothing is certain anymore. It is a place where

anything can happen, and where big changes will take place. Aragorn makes this very

clear to the representatives of all the free people at the counsel of Elrond:

But now the world is changing once again. A new hour comes. Isildur’s Bane is found. Battle is at hand (Lotr, 243, my emphasis)

So we can safely say that from the moment Frodo crosses the borders of the Shire, he

enters in a world that is fully emerging, and in which everything is in a constant flux.

We can even pursue this one step further, and find traces of this change in the idyllic

refuges, places that had for many years successfully secluded themselves from evolutions

in the outside world. The outside world intrudes in the idyllic islands and disrupts the

harmonic cyclical processes. In its mildest form, the disturbing factors are perceived as

‘funny things’ (Lotr, 90), foreign elements that change the everyday routine and as such

distinguish the present from the past, when everyday was like the day before. One

example of this the fact that many people migrate, and pass through the Shire: ‘Elves, who

seldom walked in the Shire, could now be seen passing Westward through the woods in

the evening, passing and not returning’, and there were also ‘dwarves on the road in

unusual numbers.’ (Lotr, 42). The changes can be felt throughout the Shire:

Even the deafest and most stay-at-home began to hear queer tales; and those whose business took them to the borders saw strange things. […] Even in the comfortable heart of the Shire rumours had been heard, though most hobbits still laughed at them. ( Lotr, 43)

When strangers intrude in the idyllic community, they bring with them news from the

outside world, and import their own worldviews which are foreign to, and sometimes at

odds with the idyllic space. Though the changes are unmistakably there, they are not

necessarily acknowledged. Most inhabitants of the idyllic refuges try to ignore the change

and pretend that nothing is happening, as becomes apparent in the following dialogue

between Ted Sandyman and Samwise Gamgee in the Green Dragon:

‘Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,’ said Sam. ‘Ah,’ said Ted, ‘you do, if you listen. But I can hear fireside-tales and children’s stories at home, if I want to.’ (Lotr, 43)

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If most hobbits choose not to listen to the rumours, Frodo eagerly listens to them: ‘Frodo

gathered all the news he could.’ (Lotr, 42) This is the first indication that Frodo’s

emergence runs parallel with that of the world, and is not so much contained within the

cyclical environment of the Shire. He distinguishes himself from all the other hobbits (with

the exception of his uncle Bilbo and Sam, perhaps) through his interest for the world

outside. Initially, Frodo’s wanderings and unrest can still be seen as a necessary stage in

the universal development of any individual since the parallels with the emergence of the

world remain largely obscure. However, from the moment he starts to talk with strangers,

he breaks with his safe isolation, and connects his development with that of the world. We

find that the intrusion of elements of the dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman are

directly related to the modifications of the idyllic chronotope we have discussed above.

In its worst form, the introduction of change in the idyllic communities takes the shape of

agents of the enemy who lay siege on the idyllic refuge or try to corrupt it from within. An

example of corruption from within can be found in the Shire, where Saruman has bribed

Ted Sandyman and Lotho to help him subject the other hobbits. Lothlórien is described by

Haldir as a stronghold under siege: ‘We live now upon an island amid many perils, and our

hands are more often upon the bowstring than upon the harp.’ (Lotr, 339). That the idyll is

an island of peace in a world which is torn by war need not be a problem. The space

surrounding the idyllic refuge is as a rule always unattractive or frightening. (Keunen 2005:

81) What is problematical however, is that the outside world poses a real threat to the very

existence of the idyllic space. Haldir says to Frodo: ‘The rivers have long defended us, but

they are a sure guard no more; for the Shadow has crept northward all about us.’ (Lotr,

339). The continued existence of the idyllic space is no longer self evident. Even the

position of Rivendell as safe haven is not unproblematic. When asked whether Rivendell is

Safe, Elrond can only answer: ‘Yes, at present, until all else is conquered’ (Lotr, 216). The

fall of Rivendell is not unthinkable. This imminent ending is a serious threat to the cyclical

time pattern of the idyll. The circular structure is transformed into a linear structure which

moves toward an ending. Some elves ‘speak of departing’ (Lotr, 339) and many elves

have already left their idyllic refuges, and have sailed west to the undying lands. The ‘flight

of the elves’ (Lotr, 81) is already a reality, and even if evil is defeated, ‘it will prove at best

a truce, in which [the elves] may pass to the sea unhindered, and leave the Middle-earth

forever.’ (Lotr, 340) This image of the idyllic refuges in the autumn of their existence,

doomed to fade away, is most strikingly voiced by Treebeard, when he gives his opinion of

Lothlórien.

[…] Laurelindórenan! That is what the elves used to call it, but now they make the name shorter: Lothlórien they call it. Pherhaps they are right: maybe it is fading, not growing. Land of the Valley of the Singing Gold, that was it, once upon a time. Now it is the dreamflower. (Lotr, 457)

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This description of Lothlórien is emblematic for many of the idyllic refuges: they are long

past their highpoints, the end is nigh, and they are doomed to dwindle away and live on

only as a memory.

We can agree with Malpas, when he states that ‘Tolkien is quite explicit throughout the

novel that nothing can simply resist or ignore change.’ (Malpas 2005: 89) Middle-earth is a

place of constant change, and even the idyllic islands are affected by this flux.

If we look at Frodo’s journey through Middle-earth, we find that the first of Bakhtin’s

demands has been complied with. Frodo is travelling through an environment which is, in

his experience, constantly changing. But Bakhtin also demands that the hero reflects the

historical emergence of the world. From the very beginning, Frodo’s fate is connected to

his environment -Middle-earth- through the Ring. Initially, however that environment

seems to be restricted to the Shire. The incentive of his journey is the safeguarding of the

Shire, his initial goal is not the final destruction of evil. This becomes clear as he explains

to Gandalf why he is prepared to take the Ring to Rivendell:

It seems that I am a danger, a danger to all that live near me. I cannot keep the Ring and stay here. […] I should like to save the Shire. (Lotr, 61, my emphasis)

This quotation is important in two ways. It shows that Frodo’s concern does not reach

beyond the Shire and that the insular hobbit-perspective is still very strong in him. But in

addition to this, it underlines how strongly Frodo’s fate -and emergence- is linked to the

environment. It is not the Ring that poses a threat to the Shire, it is Frodo himself. The

Ring is more than a gratuitous link between Frodo and the world. Rather, it is a symbol

through which the evolution of the world is internalised in Frodo. Frodo is not just the

owner of the Ring, he has a special relationship with it. He was ‘meant to have it’ (Lotr,

55).

Although all of Frodo’s actions will prove to be of vital importance to the fate of Middle-

earth, this not yet clear at the beginning. Gandalf and Aragorn are the only ones who fully

realise the importance of Frodo’s actions. Frodo and Sam have been informed about the

responsibility they carry, but fail to see the full weight of their actions. We can infer this

from their carelessness and negligence during the first part of their journey. The hobbit

community is completely ignorant of the true reason for Frodo’s journey. As far as they

now, Frodo moves to Circkhollow. His actions are interpreted as those of a young hobbit

who is as peculiar as his uncle was. We can say that at this point in the story, Frodo’s

emergence is still his private affair as far as the community is concerned, although the

reader is already fully aware of the fundamental connection between Frodo’s emergence

and that of the world.

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This connection is only first publicly acknowledged in Rivendell. There, before the

representatives of all the free people of Middle-earth, Frodo volunteers to destroy the

Ring, and so officially connects his own fate to that of Middle-earth: ‘‘I will take the Ring,’

he said, ‘though I do not know the way.’’ (Lotr,264) We see that this moment, which was

already identified as a crucial point from the epic point of view, has a specific importance

in the development of Frodo. Elrond is the first to publicly recognize that Frodo’s faith and

the faith of Middle-earth are inextricably connected:

‘If I understand aright all that I have heard,’ he said, ‘I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no one will.’

(Lotr, 264)

The council agrees with Elrond. From this moment onward, Frodo’s emergence is officially

no longer his private business. He is now ‘the bearer appointed by the council’ (Lotr, 387)

Frodo is the Ringbearer, and this means that the transition from one era to another is

accomplished trough him.

We can conclude that all three demands of Bakhtin have been complied with. Firstly,

Frodo’s journey brings him through a world that is in a state of constant change. Secondly,

his fate is from the very beginning connected to that of Middle-earth. Middle-earth is a

world on the transition point between two epochs, and the transition is made in and

through Frodo on the slopes of Mount Doom. This interconnectedness of Frodo’s fate and

that of Middle-earth is clear to the reader early on in the story. Most characters remain

completely in the dark up to the counsel of Elrond. At that point in the story, Frodo’s fate is

explicitly linked with that of Middle-earth, the moment he accepts to destroy the Ring. Here

we also find the realisation of the third of Bakhtin’s demands: the hero’s development is no

longer his private affair.

3. THE BILDUNGSROMAN AND MODERNITY ‘Tolkien’s basic narrative approach is bildungsroman’ (Walker 1973: 123)

According to Walker, the pattern of the Bildungsroman ‘is most accessibly observed in the

relatively uncomplicated narrative of the hobbit.’ (Walker 1973: 123) It is harder to detect

this pattern in the complex story of The Lord of the Rings, where personal psychological

developments are easily eclipsed by epic battles and terrifying monsters. Yet the pattern of

the Bildungsroman is still unmistakably present: ‘Frodo receives the mantle of Bilbo’s

Bildungsroman together with his Ring and sword and dwarf-mail.’ (Walker 1973: 130)

A more thorough examination of what is essentially the most modern of the three

chronotopes we identified in LOTR allows us to touch upon some of the modern elements

in Tolkien’s novel, which have too often been neglected in the past.

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Firstly, our attention will go to ‘homelessness’, a first characteristic of modernity, which is

also one of the characteristics that distinguishes the Bildungsroman from the mission

chronotope. This homelessness affects the identity of the hero. The process of identity

construction will be the second focus. Finally, the focus will shift to the process of

interiorization, which is typical of the modern socius as described by Deleuze

3.1. Mobility and homelessness In his study of the Bildungsroman, Moretti stresses that modernity is typified by a ‘hereto

unknown mobility’ (Moretti 2000: 4). This mobility ‘challenge[s] all that might come to count

as home with the radically migratory homelessness of modern development.’ (Malpas

2005: 87) Frodo sets out on a quest, and leaves his home behind. Very soon, he is

overcome by a sense of homelessness. As early on in the story as his arrival at

Weathertop, ‘Frodo for the first time fully realised his homelessness and danger’ (Lotr,

183). Note that Frodo does not suffer from homesickness. Homesickness would imply a

longing to return to a firm home ground39. Homeless people, in contrast, have lost their

home, and return is therefore no longer an option. Frodo realises he no longer has a firmly

anchored home to return to:

‘[…] there is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not be the same; for I shall not be the same.’ (Lotr, 967)

The concept of ‘home’ acquires a new meaning. Home can no longer simply be equated

with a spatial locality. More than a physical space one can see and visit, home has

become an imaginary construct. Malpas aptly describes this shift in meaning:

Home is presented here not as an origin to which modern humanity can straightforwardly return, but rather as something to be realised through the essential historical encounter between the foreign and one’s own.

(Malpas 2005: 95)

This modern point of view, in which the abstract concept of home is detached from a firmly

anchored and tangible home ground, is fundamentally different from the mission

chronotope, which is founded on the contrast between the foreign and the familiar (cf.

Campbell 1993). If the mission chronotope offered a clear border between the idyllic home

ground and the threatening outside world, this is no longer the case in the Bildungsroman.

Keunen describes the new situation as follows:

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We do find other characters that suffer from homesickness, such as Sam, Merry and Pippin (see also chapter I.) This distinction is important, as will become apparent in the next chapter.

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‘Er is geen contrast meer tussen het vreemde en het vertrouwde […] Men bevindt zich […] in de “externe” ruimte en de held moet die ruimte weten te begrenzen door in dit “buiten” een “thuis”, een “binnen” te creëren.’

(Keunen 2007b: 140)

Keunen’s claim corresponds neatly with the observations of Malpas:

‘What Tolkien’s novel insists upon again and again, then, is the encounter with the foreign, and the risk of self-sacrifice it entails, that transforms each character’s sense of homeliness as a foundation of identity into the notion of home as something to be produced anew through the engagement, struggle and conflict that modern existence requires.’ (Malpas 2005: 97)

Malpas concludes just like Keunen that the critical line between the foreign and the familiar

is no longer central to the story of the Bildungsroman, since the hero is first and foremost

placed in a foreign space. In the case of Frodo, this foreign space coincides with his quest

through Middle-earth. It is in this alien world that the hero has to construct his own

personal home. This process of development is identified by Bakhtin as one of the central

processes of the Bildungsroman:

A man must educate or re-educate himself for a life in a world that is, from his point of view, enormous and foreign; he must make it his own, domesticate it.

(Bakhtin 1981a: 234)

Bakhtin here refers to the process of education (bildung) that gave its name to the

Bildungsroman. The individual’s struggle to create a home in the homeless world is

essentially a struggle for a personal identity.

3.2. Constructing an identity In the Bildungsroman, the hero is transplanted from a fixed home base to a world that is

constantly changing. This modern environment will result in an identity crisis. As Malpas

points out, ‘[The] fascination with mobility and metamorphoses ends up in dismantling the

very notion of personal identity’ (Moretti 2000: 8)

3.2.1. Changing landscapes: a multiplicity of worldviews The identity crisis can be attributed to the confrontation between different worldviews, a

complex of beliefs, values and habits. Frodo travels through many different countries, each

with its distinct geographical features and landscapes: ‘The pleasant rolling landscape of

the Shire hardens into the crags and cliffs of the Black Mountains, and Frodo meets

creatures vastly different from the jolly hobbits of his own land.’ (Moorman 1968: 206) The

landscapes and creatures are outwardly different. Moorman rightfully adds, however, that

‘Mordor differs from the Shire not only in its external features’ (Moorman 1968: 206). Every

country is inhabited by a specific race with its own worldview and value system. The orcs,

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for instance constantly bicker, and the evil inhabitants of Mordor often kill each other. This

contrasts with the pacifism of the Shire, where no hobbit has ever killed another hobbit.

The minds of different races function in different ways. One exemplary contrast is that

between Saruman, who has ‘a mind of metal and wheels’ (Lotr, 462), and the hobbits, who

‘do not and did not understand or like machines more complicated than a forge-bellows, a

water-mill or a handloom’ (Lotr, 7) Of course there are as many examples as there are

races and communities in Middle-earth.

The effect of this multiplicity of worldviews is that Frodo becomes aware of the relativity of

his own initial worldview. As a hobbit, Frodo shares his worldview with the rest of the

hobbit-community. The hobbits, for instance, call the Shire their Shire, and take it as self

evident that the country is theirs. Yet this received opinion, which was initially also shared

by Frodo, is already challenged during his first encounter with the elves:

‘But it is not your own Shire,’ said Gildor. ‘Others dwelt here before hobbits were; and others will dwell here when hobbits are no more. The wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for ever fence it out.’

(Lotr, 82)

Walker rightly claims that ‘proceeding from that carefully limited hobbit perspective,

Tolkien demonstrates that the normal [or modern] view of the world is myopic,’ (Walker

1973: 32)

This is the first of many encounters that will gradually deconstruct Frodo’s initial (hobbit)

worldview, and that will force him to construct his personal worldview on the basis of his

own experiences.

3.2.2. The Changing Hero Just like the word is constantly changing, the hero too is subjected to a constant process

of change:

‘What has come to be called modernity is, in its most simple formulation, the period that takes transformation and development as its central categories of self-identification’ (Malpas 2005: 86)

Frodo is clearly a changing hero. Bradley strongly agrees with this point: ‘Edmund Wilson

has said in his critical review that Frodo is “unchanged” by the Quest. This is manifestly

ridiculous.’ (Bradley 1968: 124) She defends her claim by pointing out that Frodo ‘bears

forever three wounds: knife-wound of Weather-top, for folly; the sting of Shelob, for over-

confidence; and the finger torn away with the Ring, for pride’ (Bradley, 124) Bradley here

refers to the point in the story when Frodo explains why he is not able to return to the

Shire: ‘I am wounded with knife, sting, tooth and a long burden.’ (Lotr, 967) It is striking

how Bradley links each wound with a negative personality characteristic. The implication is

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that Frodo has remedied these flaws, which are typical of youth. The ‘long burden’, the

fourth element in Frodo’s speech, which is not picked up by Bradley, then represents the

process of maturation, or Bildung, that Frodo underwent during the story. Frodo’s evolution

does not go unnoticed. It is acknowledged, for instance by Saruman: ‘“you have grown,

Halfling,” he said. “Yes, you have grown very much”’ (Lotr, 996).

One could try to trace the pattern of development of Frodo. This pattern would take the

form of a network of crises that result in a process of gradual revelation. The culmination

point of this development is the moment of agnition. (Keunen 2007b: 149-150) Frodo’s

moment of agnition is situated at the very end of the book, when he leaves for the Grey

havens:

‘I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.’

(Lotr, 1006)

The impassive and detached Frodo who is speaking here is very different from the

restless, curiosity-driven hobbit from the beginning.

An attempt at reconstructing the whole network of partial revelations that amount to

Frodo’s ultimate insight would lead us too far. What we will briefly look at, however, are the

different ways in which Tolkien addresses this change.

Walker describes the various ways in which Tolkien portrays the character development of

Bilbo in The Hobbit. A close reading of LOTR teaches us that the same strategies are

used with Frodo.

Walker identifies ‘Bildungsromantic [sic] role switching’ as a first means to make Bilbo’s

development apparent. Frodo too explores many different roles. He starts as the nephew

of the master of Bag End. Bilbo’s departure leaves Frodo ‘as master of Bag End’ (Lotr, 36)

with a whole load of responsibilities. When Frodo leaves on his quest, he cannot do so

under his own name: ‘“I will give you a travelling name now. When you go, go as Mr.

Underhill.”’ (Lotr, 61) Soon, he proves to be an ‘Elf-friend’ (Lotr, 79). For the main part of

the story, Frodo is referred to as the ‘Ring-bearer’. In what can be seen as a final instance

of role-switching, Frodo dresses up as a ‘perfect little orc’ (Lotr, 893) in order to facilitate

his journey through Mordor.

The characters also reflect on their own roles in the story. For example, when Frodo and

Sam are speculating about how they will be perceived by later generations, Sam asks

Gollum how he would like to be seen:

“I wonder if he thinks he’s the hero or the villain?” “Gollum!” he called, “would you like to be the hero […] ?” (Lotr, 697)

In addition to role exploration, character development is also represented in the

exploration of possible selves (Walker 1973: 135). This exploration of possible selves can

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take the form of characters looking into mirrors, or characters talking to themselves; but

most importantly, ‘the searching self mirrors in surrounding similar selves.’ (Walker 1973:

136) Frodo is very much like Bilbo, and Gollum is surprisingly like Sam. Many parallels can

likewise be drawn between Frodo and Gollum40. The full complexity of a character only

emerges in its alter-egos, which function as mirrors. A clear illustration of this technique is

the contrast between different characters’ reactions to the same stimulus, for instance the

Ring. Gollum, who is obsessed by the Ring, is diametrically opposed to Sam, who has

surprisingly few problems parting with it. Frodo and Bilbo shift between these two

extremes.41 The difference between these characters is also reflected in their personal

plotlines. The tragic development of Gollum, for instance, contrasts with the comic plotline

of Sam. This is a central characteristic of the dialogical plot as defined by Keunen:

Typisch voor dialogische verhalen [is] dat regeneratie en degradatie […] in de compositie van de plotruimte tegen elkaar worden uitgespeeld. Personages die erin slagen om greep te krijgen op hun morele, emotionele en cognitieve leven, worden vaak gecontrasteerd met personages met wie dat niet lukt.

(Keunen 2007b: 144)

3.2.3. Archetype or Character? According to Le Guin, a complex character such as Frodo does not belong in the genre of

fantasy, which as a rule deals ‘with archetypes, not with characters’ (Le Guin in Atterby

1992: 70). The problem with Le Guin’s claim is that, although she refers to fantasy as ‘the

modern descendent of folktale’ (Le Guin in Atterby 1992: 70, my emphasis), she ignores

the modifications of the ancient form that are made by contemporary authors of fantasy

who mix the common mission chronotope with the modern dialogical chronotope of the

Bildungsroman.42

Atterby is not blind for this evolution. He rightfully recognises that ‘fantasy examines the

relationship between character as imitated person and character and story function,

between actor and actant.’ (Atterby 1992: 73) According to Atterby, in the case of LOTR

40

Le Guin starts from the same observations, but comes to a different conclusion. She claims that ‘Tolkien in his wisdom broke Frodo into four: Frodo, Sam, Sméagol and Gollum; perhaps five, counting Bilbo’ (Le Guin in Atterby 1992: 70). In her reading, the parallels between the characters do not support the characterization of one complex character, but are rather a means of avoiding a complex character by distributing the conflicting characteristics over a group of archetypes. I do not agree with Le Guin, and will come back to this in 3.2.3. 41

At times when Bilbo or Frodo are overcome by the power of the Ring, the resemblance to Gollum is clearly reflected in their reference to the Ring as ‘my precious’, a phrase originally coined by Gollum. 42

Fish claims that ‘Under the stress of historical crisis, archetypes undergo structural modification.’ (Fish 1984: 14) This implies that the character of Frodo is not an isolated instance, not a deviation from the archetype, but rather a typical example of the contemporary archetype. This hypothesis is plausible, but needs to be supported by additional research.

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this takes the form of ‘Frodo’s uncomfortable transformation from realistic character to

story function’ (Atterby 1992: 72), which would then be symbolised by Frodo’s fading.

I do not agree, however with the transformation as described by Atterby. Following

Atterby’s logic, Frodo should be completely reduced to a story function by the end of the

novel, and should completely fade. However this does not happen. If Frodo makes the

shift from actor to actant, then he should destroy the Ring, as a real hero would do. But

this does not happen either. On the contrary: Frodo does the opposite of what is expected

from him, and does not destroy the Ring. As such he refuses to conform to the part (or

function) that is forced upon him.

Rather than subscribing to the transformation from actor to actant as proposed by Atterby,

I would agree with Walker’s claim that Tolkien searches for ‘the individual within the type’

(Walker 1973: 20). This perspective adopts an opposite logic. The reader of fantasy starts

out with a hero in a mission chronotope, but if that reader is receptive to the level of the

Bildungsroman, he will be able to appreciate the characters in their full complexity and

richness.

3.3. Interiorization and socialisation

in our world socialization itself consists first of all in the interiorization of contradiction. (Moretti 2000: 10)

Interiorization is a central aspect of the Bildungsroman. Firstly, this claim will be

substantiated by two exemplary instances in the novel. The process of interiorization can

be found in the central object of the novel, the One Ring, but it is also reflected in the

quest itself.

Secondly, I will try to determine how this process of interiorization influences the

socialisation of the individual.

3.3.1. Interiorization The Ring has a double meaning which reflects two views of evil: Manichaean and

Boethian. The Manichaean view is the belief that ‘evil is a force from outside’, while

Boethius maintains that ‘evil is a force from inside, caused by human sin and weakness

and alienation from God’ (Shippey 2000: 135).

These two conceptions of evil correspond closely with two of the chronotopes we have

identified in the novel. The Manichaean conception of evil agrees with the traditional

mission chronotope. The Ring is a living entity with powers of its own. It is one of the many

external powers the hero has to fight. The Ring is an actor, in the sense that it can make

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decisions and take action: ‘For a moment he wondered if the Ring itself had not played

him a trick; perhaps it had tried to reveal itself […]’ (Lotr, 157)

The Boethian view of evil corresponds to the more modern reading of the Bildungsroman.

The struggle between good and bad is no longer presented as a struggle between two

external forces (Frodo Vs the orcs or Frodo Vs the Ring), but is internalised: the Ring

functions as ‘a sort of psychic amplifier, magnifying the unconscious fears or selfishnesses

of its owners’ (Shippey 2000:136). Frodo’s struggle with the Ring is actually a struggle

within the psyche of a character: ‘the two powers strove in him’ (Lotr, 392, my emphasis).

Frodo describes the power of the Ring as a burden, a physical force which presses on

him, and physically wears him out up to the point where he can go no further. When Sam

decides to carry his master up the slope of Mount Doom, however, he does not feel the

weight of the Ring: ‘He had feared that he would have barely strength to lift his master

alone, and beyond that he had expected to share in the dreadful dragging weight of the

Ring. But it was not so.’ (Lotr, 919) It seems that the power of the Ring is not physical, but

purely psychological, and that its weight is therefore felt only by Frodo.

Tolkien obviously creates an ambiguity which he never resolves. In this way he is able to

introduce the modern idea of internal struggle in the Ring, which is at the same time the

symbol of evil as an external force in its purest form.

The Plain of Mordor is a wasteland. Fish (1984: 137) describes the wasteland as a modern

version of the archetype of the desert. The desert is ‘a place of memory and vision and

also a place of lonely trials and, privations and revelations’ (Fish 1984:132) Just like the

desert was the place where Jesus had to resist the temptations of Satan, the Plain of

Mordor is the place where Frodo has to fight the temptation of putting on the Ring. As the

landscape itself is uninteresting and empty, all attention is automatically drawn to the

psyche of the characters: ‘The essence of the desert was the lonely moving individual, the

son of the road […]’ (Fish 1984:137).

In the final part of Frodo and Sam’s journey, the struggle is not so much against external

obstacles such as orcs or ringwraiths, as it is the struggle of the powers of good and evil

within Frodo. The Ringbearer correctly points out that ‘we shan’t need much on that road.

And at its end nothing’ (Lotr, 916) In a symbolically charged gesture, Frodo flings away his

orc helmet, shield and sword. Frodo aptly describes the situation:

I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it with my waking eyes, and all else fades. (Lotr, 916)

Here the Boethian worldview becomes dominant, and the modern notion of internal conflict

fully comes to the foreground.

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3.3.2. Socialisation The process of interiorization is a central element in what Deleuze has called the ‘civilised

socius’ of modern society. (Keunen 2006: 227) This form of socialisation implies that the

modern individual is responsible for his own choices; choices which are potentially in

conflict with the interests of the community.

According to Keunen, the tendency of ‘emotional and moral self-coercion’ is hyperbolised

by the Bildungsroman, and finds its expression in ‘A rigid fondness of “normality”, a

mentality of moralism, self-discipline, law-abidance and prudence’ (Keunen 2007a: 129).

Accordingly, Frodo’s courage is not hot-blooded, but ‘internalised, solitary, dutiful – and

distinctively modern, for there is nothing like it in Beowulf or the Eddic poems or Norse

Saga’ (Shippey 2000: 28).

Of course, there are still remnants of the ‘premodern socius’ (Keunen 2006: 227) of epic

literature in LOTR. The novel makes use of binary oppositions (cf. the Manichaean Vs.

The Boethian worldview) and heroes with supernatural powers which work as stand-ins for

normality (Aragorn). Tolkien plays with the opposition between the modern and pre-

modern socius. On the one hand, Middle-earth is the dwelling place of epic heroes, who

form ‘a challenge to modern values through their superior dignity, loyalty […], scrupulosity

[…] or all round competence’ (Shippey 2000: 48). Frodo, on the other hand, is clearly a

different type of hero: ‘verre van een redder van de metafysische orde te zijn, is de

moderne held een extrapolatie van onze neiging tot zelfdwang’ (Keunen 2005: 120) Frodo

is the embodiment of modern values, which ‘frequently respond to the challenge [of the

pre-modern socius] by decisions taken internally without witnesses, prompted by duty or

conscience rather than concern for wealth or glory’ (Shippey 2000: 48)

The modern hero does not distinguish himself by heroic feats in battle, but by making well

considered and morally justifiable choices.

Frodo is an individual who is ‘free to choose’ (Lotr, 393). A case could be made that

Frodo’s central task within the fellowship is making choices. This becomes very clear the

day the fellowship breaks apart. As Aragron explains, it is ‘the day of choice which we

have long delayed’ (Lotr, 387). There is no doubt as to who has to make the choice:

“Well, Frodo” said Aragorn at last. “I fear that the burden is laid upon you. You are the bearer appointed by the council. Your own way you alone can choose. In this matter I cannot advise you. I am not Gandalf. […] Most likely it seems that if he were here now the choice would still wait on you. Such is your fate.”

(Lotr, 387)

It is Frodo’s fate to make choices all through the story. He has to decide whether or not to

go through the mines of Moira, he has to decide how he and Sam will enter Mordor and

whether or not to trust Gollum and let him live. The whole quest is one long chain of

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choices which culminates at the very Crack of Doom, where Frodo has to cast the Ring

into the fires of Mount Doom.

‘I have come,’ he said. ‘But I do not choose to do now what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The ring is mine’ (Lotr, 924)

Frodo ultimately decides not to destroy the Ring, and this is his own free choice. Or is it?

Shippey rightly points out that Frodo does not say ‘I choose not to do’, but ‘I do not choose

to do’. Maybe Frodo does not choose at all; maybe the choice is made for him rather than

by him. (Shippey 2000: 140)

We can conclude that most of the ambiguities in LOTR are a direct result of the intrusion

of elements of the Bildungsroman in an epic story. The ambiguities reflect the tension

between the dialogical chronotope and the mission chronotope.

The dialogical chronotope is undeniably present in The Lord of the Rings. Frodo is clearly

an emerging hero. The cyclical environment is modified to allow this pattern of emergence,

and can be described as a chronotope of the provincial town. The changing environment

of Middle-earth further stimulates the development of Frodo.

The elements of the Bildungsroman direct us straight to the modern themes in the novel.

Mobility and homelessness strongly determine Frodo’s identity construction. Moreover,

Frodo’s socialisation is distinctively modern, in that it is exemplary of the tendency towards

moral and emotional self-coercion.

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CHAPTER 4 | THE SCOURING OF THE SHIRE : DOUBLE USE OF THE IDYLLIC CHRONOTOPE AT THE END OF LOTR 1. INTRODUCTION

‘The majority of the final book of The Lord of the Rings, a full six chapters (not even including appendices), is devoted to the War of the Ring’s long dénouement. In any other novel, this would certainly be a structural flaw. But in The Lord of the Rings, it is actually a vital element.’ (Patchen 2005: 124)

The ending is so important, because it is the moment when the eschaton is realised. In our

discussion of the quest chronotope, we have seen how the story of LOTR takes the form

of an eschatological plot. Peace is restored to Middle-earth, and a new Golden Age

begins. This new Golden Age is a reflection of a sacred past, of the original state, and as

such restores the ancient values which are central to the community. The eschaton43, the

moment this restoration takes place and the true nature of the world is exposed, is the

most important point in the story.

The story ending is crucial to the epic because it is by means of a representation of the final state of the world that this genre is made useful for the construction of social identity. (Keunen 2007a: 130)

The realisation of this eschaton is unproblematic on the level of Middle-earth. In chapter V

of book six, the heroes are publicly celebrated, and this is followed in chapter VI by a

coronation and a wedding. The scars of the war are mended, and everything will be made

better than it ever was before – maybe we should say ‘as good as it was in the mythic

past’.

However, the book does not end with this restoration of Middle-earth in all its splendour.

The hobbits have not yet completed their quest. Campbell has pointed out that an

adventure takes the shape of a circle. The hero crosses the threshold of adventure and

enters a strange world where he achieves heroic feats which result in an apotheosis, but

the story will only come to a conclusion after the hero has crossed the return-threshold,

and is home again. (Campbell 1993: 245) Our heroes, the hobbits, will only come full circle

when they return to the Shire. This return, however, is not unproblematic.

As they return home, our heroes find that their homes have not been spared from war:

‘things were not as they had been’ (Lotr, 968). The crossing of the return-threshold does

43

The term is derived from Keunen, Tijd voor een verhaal,89. The same idea has been developed by Tolkien, and has been labelled ‘eucatastrophe’ (On Fairy-Stories). For a more detailed comparison of both terms, see chapter 2.

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not coincide with the return to a peaceful situation. Instead, the peaceful state is deferred,

and the heroes are tested once more as they have to defeat evil in a last battle, this time in

their own homes: ‘The very last stroke. But to think that it should fall here, at the very door

of Bag End!’ (Lotr,997). This extra complication is in itself not problematic. It is just a

variation on the standard pattern; merely the addition of an extra element to the formula of

Propp.

More importantly, at this point of the story, the eschaton has not yet been achieved for the

hobbits. They are ignorant of the victory in the war of the Ring, and their situation is at its

worst when the company comes back. The inhabitants of the Shire are in a position

comparable to that of the people of the West before the destruction of the Ring and the

battle of Pelenor Fields. What we have, then, in chapters VII and IX of book six, is an echo

of what happened on the level of Middle-earth (chapters V and VI); only this time on the

level of the Shire. This echo, however, allows for two opposite readings, depending on

whether one reads it as functioning in the mission chronotope, or in the chronotope of the

Bildungsroman.

On the surface, ‘the Scouring of the Shire’ tells us how the hobbits defeat evil and rebuild

their country. The idyllic chronotope is restored to its initial state. This reading is in

accordance with the mission chronotope. The focus is on Sam, Merry and Pippin.

But the sequence has an unmistakable ironic undertone, and as such warns us not to take

things at face value. There is evidence in the text that allows for a reading which counters

that of the mission chronotope, and is very much in keeping with the chronotope

Bildungsroman. This second reading challenges the idea that the idyllic space is

successfully restored to its initial state. Rather, it suggests that the idyll is opened up, and

is no longer successful in closing itself off from influences from the outside world. The

central figure in this reading is Frodo.

2. RESTORATION OF THE INITIAL IDYLL ( MISSION CHRONOTOPE )

2.1. Anticipation of the restoration: the road back home The return of the fellowship is structured in such a way that the cyclical character of the

quest becomes unmistakable. It mirrors the hobbits’ departure in two ways. Firstly, the

road that takes them back to the Shire leads them past places that were important on their

quest. The fellowship passes by Isengard, which has by that time undergone a

metamorphosis, thanks to the care of the Ents. Instead of making directly for the Shire, the

hobbits decide to linger for a while in the valley of Rivendell. This mirrors the first part of

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the quest, where the valley also figured as an important stop, a springboard for the rest of

the quest. The places they pass on their return trigger memories of the time when they

travelled the road in the opposite direction:

In a little while they came to the point on the East Road where they had taken leave of Tom Bombadil; and they hoped and half expected to see him standing there to greet them as they went by. But there was no sign of him; and there was grey mist on the Barrow-downs southwards, and a deep veil over the old forest far away. (Lotr, 974)

The road back home functions as a mirror in which they can see what happened on their

quest. This quotation also illustrates, however, that there are clear hints that things are

different from the way they were when the hobbits left them. Tom is not where they expect

him to be; and if the sun was shining as they took leave of Tom Bombadil, now the area is

shrouded in mist.

The cyclical structure is not only reflected in the road, but also in the composition of the

fellowship itself. The hobbits started out alone, and their company grew as they moved on.

By the time of Aragorn’s coronation, they were surrounded by representatives of nearly all

the races of Middle-earth. During their return, we find an opposite movement, as the other

races little by little leave their company. Aragorn stays in Gondor to rule his kingdom, Gimli

and Legolas leave them at Fangorn to visit the forest, and the elves desert them and head

for the Grey Havens. When Gandalf takes leave of the hobbits just before they arrive in

the Shire, they find themselves in the same situation as when they had just left the Shire.

‘Well here we are, just the four of us that started out together,’ said Merry. ‘We have left all the rest behind, one after another. It seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded.’ (Lotr, 974)

Merry acknowledges the cyclical structure of their quest. More importantly, he compares

their journey through the foreign to a dream. As he returns to his familiar environment, he

has the feeling he is waking up. This is typical for the crossing of the return threshold:

The first problem of the returning hero is to accept as real, after an experience of the soul-satisfying vision of fulfilment, the passing joys and sorrows, banalities and noisy obscenities of life. (Campbell 1993: 218)

The return to the Shire is a return to the realities of life as the hobbits know it. The hobbit

mentality has not changed. Rosie Cotton sets the tone as she welcomes Sam back home:

‘Hullo, Sam!’ said Rosie. ‘where’ve you been? They said you were dead; but I’ve been expecting you since the Spring. You haven’t hurried, have you?’ (Lotr, 985)

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Hobbits live in close relationship with nature. Therefore it is no surprise that Rosie would

expect Sam to return in the spring.44 The matter of fact attitude furthermore makes it clear

to Sam that his heroic feats will not impress his own community. This is illustrated by the

Cottons’ reaction to Sam’s adventures: ‘The Cottons asked a few polite questions about

their travels, but hardly listened to the answers: they were far more concerned with events

in the Shire.’ (Lotr, 989) This narrow-mindedness brings us back to the very beginning of

the book. We identified the insularity as an essential characteristic of hobbits. As we

travelled through the countries of Middle-earth, we had to adjust our view as we were

confronted with new cultures end new worldviews. Now, we are confronted again with the

insular perspective of the Shire. This can be interpreted as another way in which the

cyclical pattern becomes apparent. The novel folds back upon itself, and turns its gaze

inwards again.

This circular structure is stressed because it guides the reader to the core of the mission

chronotope. Although the adventures in the wild world make up the greater part of the

story, the epic is essentially concerned with the idyllic community, whose safeguarding or

restoration is the goal of the hero.

The place of the hero’s birth […] is the mid-point or navel of the world. Just as ripples go out from an underwater spring, so the forms of the universe expand in circles from this source. (Campbell 1993: 334)

The hero starts out on his quest when his community is under threat, and his quest is only over when peace has returned to the community, and when the idyllic space has been restored to its original state.

2.2. The boon that restores the world We have arrived at what is the final phase in the epic according to Campbell:

The hero re-emerges from the kingdom of dread […]. The boon he brings restores the world. (Campbell 1993: 246)

The heroes who are responsible for the restoration of the idyllic space are Sam, Merry and

Pippin. They are hobbits, who return back home after a year’s journey. They are not aware

that they have changed in the eyes of the other hobbits.

Then the hobbits realised that people had looked at them with amazement not out of surprise at their return so much as in wonder at their gear. They themselves had become so used to warfare and riding in well-arrayed companies

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In fact, Sam returns in the fall, and therefore Rosie’s comment may seem out of place. Yet her expectations are justified. She links the mythical quest with the seasonal cycles. According to this logic, the turning point should be spring. The shift from the third Age to the fourth is marked by the destruction of the Ring and the crowning of Aragon, and this takes place in the spring. Thus Rosie’s expectations are justified, and from her point of view, Sam is too late

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that hey had quite forgotten that the bright mail peeping from under their cloaks, and the helms of Gondor and the Mark, and the fair devices on their shields, would seem outlandish in their own country. (Lotr, 970)

These changes are not received with approval by the conservative hobbit community. The

old Gaffer is not happy with the way his son looks: ‘What’s come of his weskit? I don’t hold

with wearing ironmongery, whether it wears well or no.’ (Lotr, 991) The return home may

prove to be difficult, as they may be confronted with the home community’s failure to

understand what the heroes have been through, and the changes that might have arisen

from those experiences. As Campbell states, the hero may have to ‘take the return blow of

reasonable queries, hard resentment, and good people at a loss to comprehend.’

(Campbell 1993: 216)

Yet, the changes turn out not to cause many troubles, as they are mainly restricted to the

heroes’ looks, and have not affected their hobbit nature. They are still very much hobbits,

only they are ‘all dressed up queer’ (Lotr, 984). Farmer Maggot’s observation about Sam

supports this: ‘The voice is right, and your face is no worse than it was, Sam. But I should

a’ passed you in the street in that gear.’ (Lotr, 984) Sam’s outward appearance might have

changed, but his inside remains unchanged and his face still has all the typical hobbit

characteristics. The changes in Merry and Pippin are also merely superficial:

and if they [M&P] were now magnificent, they were unchanged otherwise, unless they were indeed more fair-spoken and more jovial and full of merriment than ever before. (Lotr, 993, my emphasis)

Although the heroes are marked by certain superficial changes, in essence they are

unchanged. Throughout the quest they have successfully maintained their hobbit identity.

This is important, because they are the representatives of their community, and it is in that

function that they restore order to the Shire. During their quest, they have acquired a boon,

which will facilitate the process of restoration.

Their challenge is to unite the hobbits and raise a rebellion against Saruman, in order to

overthrow his regime. Initially they have a lot of difficulties in mobilising the hobbits. But

Merry uses his boon: the Horn of Rohan. The sound of this horn terrifies the enemy, and

no friend can resist its call. Thanks to the horn, they succeed in uniting the hobbits against

Saruman. Our heroes have learned a lot about warfare on their journey through Middle-

earth. This also is a boon, as it gives them an advantage over the ruffians:

But however grim they [the ruffians] might be, they seemed to have no leader among them who understood warfare. They came on without any precautions. Merry laid his plans quickly. (Lotr, 991)

The people of the Shire, united under the three heroes, defeat the enemy. The very last

stroke has fallen. Yet things are not over yet, since the idyllic space has not yet been

restored to its former splendour:

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‘I sahn’t call it the end, till we’ve cleared up the mess,’ said Sam gloomily.

(Lotr, 997)

In a first phase, the social contacts within the idyllic community are restored. All the

imprisoned hobbits are set free, the family feud between Frodo and Lobelia is settled, and

the mayor is restored in his old function. In a second phase, they have to repair the

wounds that were inflicted to the idyllic space itself. Trees have been cut down, and a

significant part of the natural environment has been destroyed. This will take a long time to

recover. Sam, who is a gardener, takes it upon himself to restore the Shire countryside in

its former glory. To this end, he can make use of his boon: a box of seeds he has received

from lady Galadriel in Lothlórien.

The results of these seeds become apparent as springtime comes: ‘Spring surpassed his

wildest hopes’ (Lotr, 1000). This springtime also heralds the golden age of the Sire:

Altogether 1420 in the Shire was a marvellous year. Not only was there wonderful sunshine and delicious rain, in due times and in perfect measure, but there seemed something more: an air of richness and growth, and a gleam of beauty beyond that of mortal summers that flicker and pass upon Middle-earth.

(Lotr, 1000)

We find that everything in nature is in perfect harmony. This is essential to an agricultural

society. Perfect weather conditions result in an astonishing harvest. The barns are all

stuffed, and the barley was so fine, that the beer made of 1420 malt ‘was long

remembered and became a byword’ (Lotr, 1001). This exceptional harmony is a clear

signal to the reader that the Shire has arrived at a new Golden Age. This new Golden Age

is the realisation of the eschaton, which is central to the mission chronotope. The end of

times is always the beginning of a new era, an era which is good, and which is a reflection

of a mythic and perfect past. In this respect it is important to notice how Tolkien explicitly

describes this situation as ‘a gleam of beauty beyond that of mortal summers’. When the

idyll of the Shire is restored, it offers a glimpse of perfection that is beyond this world. This

glimpse is the essence of the ‘eucatastropic’ moment. We find that Tolkien’s concept of

eucatastrophe and the concept of eschaton as Keunen uses it are very similar. Both

concepts refer to a happy ending, which is a confirmation of timeless regularity en timeless

values.

2.3. A successful invocation of the idyllic chronotope If we look at the way in which the restored idyllic situation is described, we find that it

mirrors the original idyllic situation as it was described in the prologue.

The cyclical character of time is stressed very much since time is completely reduced to

the rhythm of the seasons. Tolkien’s description of the Shire’s recovery from its wounds

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relies heavily on imagery of seasons. The description starts with Sam, biding his time ‘all

through the winter’ (Lotr, 100), waiting for spring to see the result of his works. The

description continues with the coming of a spring which surpassed all hopes, moves on

over ‘mortal summers’, and ends with autumn and its successful harvest.45 The four

seasons structure the paragraph. The restoration of the idyllic space happens in total

correspondence to the seasonal cycles.

This type of time, where an agricultural community lives in close relation to the land and

the seasons, is what Bakhtin labelled ‘The time of labour’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 207). As was

the case in the prologue, time is measured by labour events. The farmers produce their

own goods, and these goods are the connection with nature. This connection was

disturbed under the regime of Saruman. Saruman confiscated everything the hobbits

produced, and as such he separated consumption from productive labour. In doing so, he

disrupted the hobbits’ connection with nature and the seasonal cycles: the beginning of

autumn was no longer a period of plenty, as the hobbits could not keep anything of what

they had harvested. The connection between labour and consumption is restored after

Saruman is defeated.

The ‘idyllic matrix’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 210) is restored. Copulation and death, food and drink

feature prominently in this chapter. Copulation is institutionalised as marriage: ‘Sam

Gamgee married rose Cotton in the spring of 1420 (which was famous for its weddings).’

(Lotr, 1001). All these marriages cannot but result in a lot of children: ‘all the children born

or begotten in that year, and there were many, were fair and strong.’ (Lotr, 1000) The

continuity of the community is assured, as many babies are born. According to Bakhtin,

children ‘frequently figure in connection with growth, the renewal of life, death.’ (Bakhtin

1981a: 227) Tolkien also makes this connection:

The fruit was so plentiful that young hobbits very nearly bathed in strawberries and cream; and later they sat on the lawns under the plum-trees and ate, until they had made piles of stones like small pyramids or the heaped skulls of a conqueror, and then they moved on. (Lotr, 1000)

In this one sentence, children are first linked to images of growth (abundance of

strawberries and plums) and subsequently to imagery of death (the skulls and the

pyramid, which is a grave). Yet the image of growth is clearly dominant. The children are a

symbol of growth in their own right, and this is further underlined by the fact that they

‘moved on’. Death is subordinated to a process of growth that moves continually onward.

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Petty reduces the seasonal imagery in this sequence to autumn, because that is the season in which they return. This season has a symbolic meaning: ‘autumn is harvest time, when the fruits of one’s labours are brought to culmination and completion’ (Petty 1997: 87). I believe this reduction impoverishes the seasonal imagery. Although harvest is a central element in this sequenece, we find that all seasons are present. This succession of the seasons symbolises the cyclical order of the idyll, and should therefore not be discarded.

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The children will grow and die, but before they die, they will multiply, and this will

contribute to the growth of the community.

This process is emblematical of ‘the time of productive growth’, where ‘single items that

perish are neither individualised nor isolated; they are lost in the whole multiplying mass of

new lives’. (Bakhtin 1981a: 207) It is from this perspective we have to look at the hobbits

that died in the battle with the ruffians. ‘Nineteen hobbits were killed, and some thirty were

wounded.’ (Lotr, 992) These hobbits are not individuals for whose death we grieve. Their

death is just a toll that had to be paid in order to let the community thrive. Looking back at

the battle, the writer concludes that ‘it happily cost very few lives’ (Lotr, 992). This is the

perspective of the community, to which the death of a few hobbits is completely

subordinated. The community nevertheless acknowledges the value of their sacrifice, as

the names of the martyrs are still learned by heart by the Shire-historians. The idea behind

the time of productive growth is condensed in a proverb by the Gaffer:

‘It’s an ill wind that blows nobody no good, as I always say. And all’s well as ends better!’ (Lotr, 999)

We find that the pattern of growth is essentially cyclical. It is not a straight line. Rather it is

a constant repetition of periods of growth and decline, death and rebirth; where every

period of growth exceeds the previous one. The cyclical character is best reflected in a

speech by Frodo, where he addresses Sam:

‘But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And also you have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin […]’ (Lotr, 1006)

This quotation first and foremost reflects the fertility of Sam, which by extension is

symbolical of the fertility and growth of the Shire. But it also shows how this growth is

cyclical. Sam is Frodo’s heir. Furthermore, Sam’s son will be named after Frodo, just like

his other kids will be named after his wife and his friends. This symbolises how every

generation is essentially a repetition of the previous generations. In addition to this it is

made clear that one generation inherits from the previous one, and will add to this fortune

during his life. The fortune that grows as it is handed down from generation to generation

is symbolical of the growth of the community.

The essence of the idyllic chronotope is represented one last time in a tableau featuring

Sam, which forms the very end of the novel.

And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within; and the evening meal was ready, and he was expected. And Rose drew him in, and set him in his chair, and put little Elanor upon his lap. He drew a deep breath. ‘Well I’m back again,’ he said. (Lotr, 1008)

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At the end of the book, the perspective has been narrowed down from the level of Middle-

earth to the perspective of Sam and his family. We must not forget, however, that Sam is

an individuum, and as such represents the whole of the Shire. The idea of the idyllic

community is invoked by the motif of ‘all generations and age-groups [which] come

together around the table.’ (Bakhtin 1981a: 227) The generations represent both continuity

and cyclicity. At the same time, the food connects the hobbits to their environment, and

underlines their close relationship with the earth.

We can conclude that this tableau is a fitting ending to the book, because it represents the

final homecoming. At the same time, however it is an invocation of the idyllic situation.

This place at the very ending of the book attributes further importance to the idyllic

chronotope.

3. EXCEEDING THE INITIAL IDYLLIC CHRONOTOPE (CHRONOTOPE OF EMERGENCE )

According to Bakhtin, the Bildungsroman is not the story of the restoration of the idyll, but

exactly the opposite:

Here the issue is primarily one of overturning and demolishing the world view and psychology of the idyll (Bakhtin 1981a: 235)

Frodo’s identity is no longer grounded in the homeland of the Shire. The hero of the

Bildungsroman has left behind the idea of home as an ontological ground of identity, and

has learned how to live in the modern ‘homeless’ world.

Furthermore, Frodo has changed through his contact with other worldviews. He has

evolved, and he has grown estranged from his community. His personal development is

most important to him, and whether it agrees with the expectations of the community is

only of secondary importance: ‘Das höchste Ziel für ihn war die freie Entfaltung der

perzönlichkeit, ohne jede Rücksicht auf die ansprüche der Gemeinschaft.’ (Wagner 1951:

53) In this case, the hero is not publicly celebrated or honoured. The moral which the hero

has developed, and the worldview which he now adheres to could mean a ‘Umwertung

aller Werte, die Erschütterung des Absoluten und den Zusammenbruch der Alten

Autoritäten’ (Wagner 1951:54)

The idyllic space is not restored to its initial state of isolation. In stead, its boundaries are

torn down, and the idyllic space is incorporated into the larger world.

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4. READINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE Both readings are perfectly justifiable, as they each fit in with one of the chronotopes that

are combined in this novel. The first of these chronotopes is the mission chronotope,

which ends with the restoration of the idyll in its initial state. The idyllic space is a closed

and isolated environment. The second is the dialogical chronotope. This chronotope ends

with a main character that has changed psychologically, and no longer feels at home in

the idyllic space. To him, the world is now more than just the idyllic chronotope. The

borders of the idyllic chronotope are not restored, but its defensive structures have been

torn down. The idyll is opened up to the influence of the outside world.

Certain elements in the concluding chapters can support both readings. We will look at

three examples that can be -and sometimes have been- used as arguments to defend

either of the readings.

The most straightforward way to determine the idyllic community’s successfulness in

isolating itself from the outside world, is by looking at how the autonomy of the idyll is

realised.

Malpas claims that ‘the seclusion of the Shire will be lost as its borders are opened to the

world.’ (Malpas 2005: 88) He offers no textual evidence, however, to support this claim.

The question whether the borders of the Shire are indeed opened up is not easily

answered. Any attempt at answering the question must start by establishing the status of

the Shire at the beginning of the story. The prologue teaches us that the Shire is officially

subject to the King. This, however, is only theory. The kings have died a long time ago;

and the Shire is independent in practice. By the end of the novel, however, Aragorn is

made King, and according to ancient law, the Shire falls under his rule. The return of the

King may result in the integration of the Shire into a larger kingdom. The King can draw

the Shire out of its isolation.

This is what Gandalf suggests when he announces that ‘the Greenway will be opened

again, and his [the King’s] messengers will come north, and there will be comings and

goings, and the evil things will be driven out of the waste-lands’ (Lotr, 971). The same

message is later repeated by Pippin: ‘The King’s messengers will be riding up the

Greenway now.’ (Lotr, 982) All of this suggests that the isolation of the Shire will soon

come to an end. There are other elements, however, that suggest the opposite. Barliman

Butterbur voices the ideas of the idyllic community, which is not happy with the prospect of

the borders being opened: ‘And we don’t want no outsiders at Bree, nor near Bree at all.

We want to be let alone.’ (Lotr, 971) Gandalf’s reply to this is striking: ‘You will be let

alone, Barliman’ (Lotr, 971). The reply is short and therefore easily overlooked, but it is

very important because it suggests that the isolation of the Shire will remain unchanged.

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The story itself offers no definite answer. The appendices offer more information, but again

no definite answers. From appendix B we learn that ‘King Elessar issues an edict that Men

are not to enter the Shire, and he makes it a Free Land under the protection of the

Northern Sceptre.’ (Lotr, 1071) The isolation of the Shire is now inscribed in the law. This

law, however does not guarantee the isolation. Men do not enter the Shire anymore, but

hobbits can still travel freely in and out of the Shire. The main difference is that, in contrast

to the beginning, more hobbits choose to make such journeys. Merry and Pippin often

travel to Gondor and the Mark, and Sam’s daughter becomes a shieldmaiden of Arwen.

Pippin and Merry even spend their last years in foreign countries. Merry dies in the Mark,

and Pippin in Gondor.

We can conclude that Malpas’s claim that the borders are simply opened is not correct.

The story itself does not offer a final answer, but offers only speculation in either direction.

Although the appendices provide reliable information, this information does not allow us to

make a definite statement about the isolation of the Shire. The borders have been firmly

re-established by law, but the travelling of the hobbits strongly questions whether that law

will guarantee the isolation of the Shire.

The next two examples are events that have a symbolical meaning. These symbols can be

made to fit both readings.

The Party Tree near Frodo’s house had been cut down by Saruman. This grieved Sam

very much, and therefore he planted the little silver nut from Galadriel’s box in the Party

Field where the tree had once been. From this tree grows a mallorn tree.

In the Party Field a beautiful young sapling leaped up: it had a silver bark and long leaves and burst into golden flowers in April. It was indeed a mallorn, and it was the wonder of the neighbourhood. In after years, as it grew in grace and beauty, it was know far and wide and people would come long journeys to see it: the only mallorn west of the Mountains and east of the Sea, and one of the finest in the world. (Lotr, 1000)

The apparition of this mallorn in the very spot where the old Party Tree once stood can

easily be read as a symbol of the restoration of the Shire. The Shire recovers from its

wounds, and grows to be more splendid than it ever was before. Another element that can

support this reading is that the mallorn can be seen as a symbol of idyllic harmony, as its

spread was originally limited to the idyllic refuge of Lothlórien.

This argument, however, cuts both ways. Malpas has pointed out that ‘the planting of the

Mallorn-tree during the rebuilding of the Shire symbolically opens its borders to the wider

world.’ (Malpas 2005: 97) The mallorn symbolizes the intrusion of the outside world in the

Shire, as it brings Lothlórien right into the heart of the idyllic space. We can further support

Malpas’ claim by the fact that people from far away come to the Shire, just to see the

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exceptional tree. The tree is responsible for a stream of tourists, outsiders, and as such

again brings the outside world into the idyllic space.

Another example of this ambiguity is the name of Sam’s first daughter. Sam has a hard

time finding a name for his daughter. There are two hobbit traditions that he wants to

respect. Firstly, Sam is advised to name his daughter after a flower: ‘What’s wrong with

the old customs? Chose a flower name like rose’ (Lotr, 1003). Secondly, he chooses a

name that is short: ‘The Gaffer, he says: “Make it short, and then you won’t have to cut it

short before you can use it.”’ (Lotr, 1003). The community helps Sam with his task of

choosing a name by offering him clear guidelines. Yet Sam is still at a loss, and the name

is ultimately suggested by Frodo:

‘Well, Sam, what about elanor, the sun-star, you remember the little golden flower in the grass of Lothlórien?’ (Lotr, 1003)

Sam names his daughter after a flower that is only to be found in Lothlórien. This way, the

outside world again intrudes into the Shire. It must be stressed, however, that this intrusion

is very subtle, as it is in accordance with the traditions of the Shire. Elanor is an elvish

word, and it refers to a flower that is alien to the Shire. It is the name of a flower

nonetheless, and it is short besides. The name is highly ambiguous, and lends itself to

various interpretations.

We can conclude that Tolkien does not force any of the two readings upon the reader.

Both readings exist in their own right, on different levels of the story. In other words, each

reading is connected to a specific chronotope. The elements that suggest that the Shire

remains an isolated idyllic space support the mission chronotope. There is equally

evidence that the Shire will be taken out of its isolation, and this, in turn, is in keeping with

the dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman.

5. CONSEQUENCES FOR THE MORAL OF THE STORY

De moraal van een verhaal schuilt grotendeels in de patronen die een verteller oplegt aan zijn fictionele wereld (Keunen 2005: 7)

Consequently, the mission chronotope and the dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman

each represent a different moral. We will now investigate how each chronotope is linked to

a moral, and how the morals differ from each other.

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5.1. The mission chronotope 5.1.1. The Shire as a source of morality From an objective point of view, the destruction in Hobbiton does not have the same epic

quality as the devastation in Middle-earth; and the battles fought in Hobbiton, which cost

the lives of only two hobbits, are insignificant compared to the battles of Helms Deep and

Pelenor fields, where thousands of soldiers died. Yet, the vicissitudes of this little peace of

land are crucial to the story. The Shire receives this importance thanks to the reader’s

emotional affinities with the hobbits and their home. But the real importance of the Shire is

situated on a higher level, which remains largely concealed from the reader. On the level

of the plot, the Shire is crucial, because it is the source of morality.

The hobbits are the main source of identification. They function as a bridge between the

modern reader and the mythic world, and ‘guide the reader’s reactions’ (Shippey 2000: 6)

Therefore, if the Shire is very important to the hobbits, it will also gain importance in the

eyes of the reader. That the Shire is of great importance to our heroes, becomes apparent

as Sam is confronted with the damage that has been caused in the Shire:

‘This is worse than Mordor!’ said Sam. ‘Much worse in a way. It comes home to you, as they say; because it is home, and you remember it before it was all ruined.’ (Lotr, 994)

From a rational point of view, it is absurd to maintain that the cutting down of trees and the

erection of stone houses and mills is worse than the lifeless desert of Mordor. But if we

read these lines as the emotional exclamation they are, this claim makes much more

sense.

The Shire is the home of our heroes, and therefore it is dearer to them than any other

place in Middle-earth.

[in the Shire] they had their first really painful shock. This was Frodo and Sam’s own country, and they found out now that they cared about it more than any other place in the world. (Lotr, 980)

The hobbits are very strongly connected with the Shire. The one cannot exist without the

other. In our discussion of the idyllic space, we have already seen that the Shire functions

as an ‘ontological ground of identity’ for the hobbits (Malpas 2005: 96). As the reader

identifies with the hobbits, the Shire becomes important to him as well.

5.1.2. The individuum as embodiment and saviour of the community religion The Shire is not only the source of the hobbit’s identity, however, but it also represents the

values of the community. Keunen has rightly pointed out that the idyllic community

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essentially symbolises a complex of values and traditions. If we want to establish the

moral message of a book we should not look at the community as a group of people, but

rather see ‘de gemeenschap als ‘mystiek lichaam’, als geheel van waarden’. (Keunen

2005: 113) To emphasise that we are primarily concerned here with the values

represented by the idyllic community and not so much the people or the space itself, I will

use the term ‘community religion’46. What is at stake in the mission chronotope, is ‘het

herstel of voortbestaan van de gemeenschap en de terugkeer naar de authentieke tijdloze

waarden’ (Keunen 2005: 114).

We have already seen how the idyllic chronotope is restored in the final chapters of LOTR.

Now, I will show how this restoration is also a restoration of the community religion, how

the moral message of the book is a confirmation of the ancient values.

If we look at the restoration of the community religion of the Shire, we have to pay special

attention to the role of Sam, Merry and Pippin in these events. According to Mori, the epic

hero is ‘een held die transcendente waarden belichaamt en uitdraagt’ (Keunen 2005: 112)

Bakhtin labels this kind of hero an individuum:

Individuums are representatives of the social whole […] internal from fuses with external: man is all on the surface. (Bakhtin 1981a: 218)

Throughout their journey through Middle-earth, Sam, Merry and Pippin function as

representatives of their community. The way they act, dress, walk and talk is perceived as

typical of hobbits by the other races. But more than by their appearance, their hobbitness

is defined by their moral values, which are most often presented to the reader as proverbs.

The fact that these proverbs keep popping up, even in far away countries, shows that the

hobbits remain true to their ideals and values, despite their encounter with the foreign.

This moral conservatism is the reason why the threesome is so surprised upon their return

to Hobbiton. Things have changed a lot, but our three heroes ‘remember it before it was all

ruined’ (Lotr, 994). One can almost hear the echo of Bakhtin’s concept of ‘the future

memory of a past […] a valorised beginnings and peaktimes’ (Bakhtin 1981b: 19). The

three hobbits will not just change the condition of the Shire, and offer it a new future.

Rather, that future will be modelled to their memories of a perfect past. On the literal level

these memories are memories of the Shire as it was just a year before (they have been

gone for a year). But on a deeper level, ‘memories’ stands for the knowledge of what is

morally right. With some notable exceptions of for instance the old Gaffer and the Cotton

family, most hobbits have betrayed their values, habits and rituals. The community religion

is in decay. Our heroes are morally superior to the other hobbits, as they embody the

46

This is my own translation of the Dutch term ‘gemeenschapsreligies’ used by Keunen (Keunen 2005: 112)

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values that have now been abandoned. Throughout the chapter The Scouring of the Shire,

an elaborate opposition is worked out between the community religion represented by the

three heroes on the one hand, and the arbitrary and perverse rules that have been

imposed by Saruman on the other.

5.1.3. Conservative moral: back to how it was The rules imposed by Saruman are rejected, and the traditional community religion is

restored. Three main critiques are formulated against the situation in the shire under

Saruman. These are: the perversion of the ancient institutions, a misleading rhetoric and

the imposing of arbitrary rules.

As Saruman’s forces occupied the Shire, they introduced a whole list of rules. Any

violation was severely punished. As the occupation continues, more rules are added to the

list. The rules are omnipresent: ‘on every wall [of the house] there was a notice and a list

of rules.’ (Lotr, 977) Moreover, there is no public support for the rules, as they are forced

upon the hobbits. The nature of these commandments and restrictions runs completely

counter to hobbit nature. The idea of restricting the use of pipeweed and food for example,

could never arise from the mind of a hobbit. The only reason why the hobbit community

complies with the rules, is because they are terrified by the ruffians. Nobody can provide

arguments that justify the rules. The question why is only answered by: ‘because you’re

not allowed.’

These rules of Saruman are pitted against ‘The Rules’, the ancient laws of the hobbits.

The prologue provides only little, but interesting information:

For they attributed to the king of old all their essential laws; and usually they kept the laws of free will, because they were The Rules (as they said), both ancient and just. (Lotr, 9)

There are striking differences between ‘The Rules’, and Saruman’s rules. First of all, ‘The

Rules’ are kept out of free will, and not out of fear of an oppressor. Secondly, the rules are

ancient and just, and there is a consensus about this. They find their origins in a far away

past, and for many years have been an organic part of the social whole. If no hobbit has

ever killed another hobbit in the Shire, this is not because they fear punishment or a law.

Rather, there is a general consensus that killing is wrong. These codes of behaviour,

traditions and values come naturally to the hobbits. We could say the ‘The Rules’ are a

codified form of the community religion.

As the representatives of this community religion, Sam Merry and Pippin will question

Saruman’s rules. The first time Pippin is confronted with a list of rules, his action is

resolute:

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He sprang from his pony, and seeing the notice in the light of the lanterns, he tore it down and threw it over the gate (Lotr, 976)

This tearing down of the lists becomes a statement of rebellion, and is repeated several

times. The three friends also revolt against the fact that the rules of Saruman are imposed

and have not organically grown from the community. All of Sam’s questions for a

motivation of the rules are answered by ‘because we’re not allowed’, and this infuriates

him:

‘If I hear not allowed much oftener,’ said Sam, ‘I’m going to get angry.’ (Lotr, 979)

Misleading rhetoric is a second theme that adresses the opposition. Saruman establishes

a form of socialism in the Shire, or so he claims. His ‘gatherers’ collect all that is produced

and harvested by the hobbits, and the ‘sharers’ are supposed to distribute all of this

amongst the hobbits, so that everybody gets an equal share. That is to say: this is what we

can expect them to do, judging from their titles. However, there seems to be a discrepancy

between what their titles promise, and their actions:

It’s all these “gatherers” and “sharers”, I reckon, going round counting and measuring and taking off to storage. They do more gathering than sharing, and we never see most of the stuff again. (Lotr, 976)

Farmer Maggot states the case even bolder: ‘the ruffians went round gathering stuff up “for

fair distribution”: which meant they got it and we didn’t’ (Lotr, 989). Notice how Tolkien

uses quotationmarks to ironise the misleading terms. The hobbits cite their oppressors,

and as such show that they do not agree with them. The mock stalinism of Saruman is

condemned, and contrasted with real and spontaneous sharing by Sam, Pippin and Merry:

There was no beer and very little food, but with what the travellers brought and shared out they all made a fair meal; and Pippin broke Rule 4 by putting most of next day’s allowance of wood on the fire. (Lotr, 977)

This is an example of real and spontaneous sharing, devoid of any swollen rhetoric. Again,

the behaviour of the threesome can be linked to the ancient community religion, and is

contrasted with the condition of the Shire under Saruman. This true sharing is followed by

a reassertion of the moral superiority of our heroes: they break Rule 4.

A third way in which this opposition is addressed, is through a critical evaluation of the

office of Shirrif. The shirrifs were the nearest equivalent the hobbits had to a police force.

Originally, they did not have very much to do, and they were ‘more concerned with the

strayings of beasts than of men.’ (Lotr, 10) There were only twelve shirrifs in the whole of

the Sire, three for each farthing. The police force does not really have a function, and that

fits with the whole idea of attitudes and values that have grown organically and are

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accepted by the community. If the laws are generally accepted, there is no need for a

police force to enforce that law.

Things have changed, however, by the time our heroes return to the Shire. The number of

Shirrifs has grown exponentially:

There’s hundreds of Shirrifs all told, and they want more, with all these new rules (Lotr, 979)

The rise in the number of shirrifs is directly related to implementation of the new rules.

These are not accepted, and now law has to be enforced. This means that the very nature

of the profession of Shirrif has changed. This becomes clear in this exchange between

Robin and Sam:

‘You know how I went for Shirrif seven years ago, before any of this began. Gave me a chance of walking round the country and seeing folk, and hearing the news, and knowing where the good beer was. But now it’s different.’ ‘But you can give it up, stop Shirriffing, if it has stopped being a respectable job,’ said Sam. (Lotr,979)

The job is no longer respectable and by implication is no longer supported by the

community. This is only natural, as it is no longer an office that has grown out of the

community, but is now a means to impose alien codes of behaviour on the community.

Sam acknowledges the relativity of an institution that is no longer supported by the

community. It has lost its legitimacy. That is why our three heroes ridicule the troop of

shirrifs that has been sent to arrest them:

It was rather a comic cavalcade that left the village […] A dozen Shirrifs had been told off as escort to the ‘prisoners’, but Merry made them march in front, while Frodo and his friends rode behind. Merry, Pippin and Sam sat at their ease laughing and talking and singing, while the shirrifs stumped along trying to look stern and important. (Lotr, 980)

Finally, they openly question the authority of the shirrifs, and break arrest:

‘You’re breaking arrest, that’s what you’re doing,’ said the leader ruefully, ‘and I can’t be answerable.’ ‘We shall break a good many things yet, and not ask you to answer,’ said Pippin. ‘Good luck to you!’ (Lotr, 980)

This whole shirrif-sequence is important, not just because it is another example of the

opposition between the moral code of the hobbits and that imposed by Saruman; but first

and foremost because it is a direct attack on the authority and legitimacy of the new

morals and values.

Once Saruman and his forces have been defeated, the old authority is restored. The first

thing that has to be done is to ‘reduce Shirrifs to their proper functions and numbers’ (Lotr,

999). This is a return to the situation as it was before Saruman’s regime. Dear old Will

Whitefoot is restored in his office of Mayor. Will Whitefoot was mayor at the time

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Saruman’s forces invaded the Shire, and he was the first to rebel against the new and

alien authority. He was imprisoned for that. His imprisonment is symbolical of the

suppression of the community religion. When he is released from prison, and restored in

his function of Mayor, this is symbolical of the return of the ancient morals and values. A

third way in which the community religion is restored, is by attributing to its three

representatives functions of authoritity. Sam succeeds Will Whitefoot, and is elected

mayor seven times in a row. Merry becomes master of Buckland, and Pippin gets to be

Thain.

We can conclude that the mission chronotope is connected to a conservative moral. The

community religion, i.e. the ancient values and codes of behaviour of the community,

threaten to disappear, but are restored in the end. This is a reassertion of the ancient

community religion.

5.2. The dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman 5.2.1. Irony: undermining moral authority Irony is strongly present in The Lord of the Rings. Walker writes that ‘The epic tendencies

are continually complicated by a mock epic attitude’ (Walker1973: 156). Whenever this

mock epic tone is applied, it draws the text away from the ‘ostentation of true epic’ into

‘humorous realism.’ (Walker 1973: 157) From Bakhtin we learn that ‘laughter destroyed

epic distance’, and that ‘it began to investigate man freely and familiarly, to turn him inside

out, expose the disparity between his surface and his center.’ (Bakhtin 1981b: 35) A first

effect of this mock epic tone is the disintegration of the wholeness of the epic hero: ‘a

crucial tension develops between the external and the internal man.’ (Bakhtin 1981b: 37)

The use of irony allows the author to introduce to the epic a hero such as Frodo, and

thematise the tension between his individuality and the community. That community is

often ridiculed and discredited.

The second reason why irony is used is to ridicule the community, and as such

undermine its moral authority. The narrator plainly ridicules the narrow-mindedness of the

hobbit community. An example of this mock attitude on the part of the author is when the

old Gaffer addresses Frodo upon his return to Hobbiton.

‘And while you have been trapessing in foreign parts, chasing Black men up mountains from what my Sam says, though what for he don’t make clear, they’ve dug up Bagshot Row and ruined my taters!’ (Lotr, 990)

The speaker is an authoritative person in Hobbiton. He is a barrel filled with hobbit

wisdom which he gladly spills in the form of proverbs. The old Gaffer clearly fails to see

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matters in the right perspective, and this has a comical effect upon the reader. By making

an authoritative person the object of ridicule, the author fundamentally undermines that

person’s authority. If the reader comes to the see the hobbits as comical figures, he might

no longer take their morals seriously.

The irony is also present on the level of the narrative; it is reflected in the structure of the

story.

The very Structure of the trilogy partakes of that realising quality of Middle-earth anticlimax. (Walker 1973: 159)

Walker argues that The Scouring of the Shire functions as an anticlimax after the victory

in the war of the Ring. This is indeed one way in which the reader can interpret the

sequence. The three hobbits that died in the rubble with the ruffians are only an ironic

echo of the thousands of soldiers who died in the great battles of Helms Deep and Minas

Tirith. In this reading, Sam’s outcry that the situation in Hobbiton ‘is worse than Mordor’

(Lotr, 994), sounds rather ridiculous. The real importance of the story is to be found on

the level of Middle-earth. The real hero is Frodo. The Scouring of the Shire is just a

comical coda to the main story. The fact that Frodo is not honoured in the Shire only

illustrates the skewed, and comical hobbit perspective. This ironic perspective on the

hobbits inevitably undermines the authority of their worldview, values and morals. Frodo’s

perspective and, by implication, his morals are superior.

5.2.2. Frodo: not an individuum but an individual Frodo is fundamentally different from his companions. He is not an individuum that

embodies the values of the idyllic community. It is rather the opposite: he is an individual,

with his own values, which can differ from and even conflict with those of the community.

The difference between individuum and individual is exemplified in different ways.

Firstly, Frodo’s emotional reaction to the return to the Shire is different from that of his

companions:

‘Well here we are, just the four of us that started out together […] It seems almost like a dream that has slowly faded.’ ‘Not to me,’ said Frodo. ‘To me it feels like falling asleep again.’ (Lotr, 974)

To the individuum, the idyllic homeland is the real world: it is the source of his or her

identity. The outside world is so strange to them, that it acquires an unreal, dreamlike

quality. To Frodo, it is just the other way around: returning from the outside world which

has opened his eyes, and which served as the environment of his development, the Shire

appears as a place where the real world remains hidden behind a veil of triteness,

complacency and bigotry. The idyllic homeland is an escapist construction of the mind, a

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shared dream in which the hobbits flee from reality. Therefore, a return to this place is not

as natural and unproblematic to Frodo as it is to his friends:

Merry, Pippin and Sam sat at their ease laughing and talking ad singing [..] Frodo, however, was silent, and looked rather sad and thoughtful. (Lotr, 980)

Reducing the individuum to the figure of Sam, one could claim that ‘For Frodo there is no

real return, while Sam has returned in heart and soul.’ (Bradley 1968: 125). Frodo himself

is only too aware of the difference between himself and his friend as he tells him: ‘you

were meant to be solid and whole, and you will be.’ (Lotr, 1003). The individuum and the

community are essentially one. This is not the case for Frodo who is torn between the

community and his personal identity.

It is the task of the individuums to restore the idyllic space in its original state. Sam, Merry

and Pippin play a very important role in this process of restoration, but Frodo remains

completely passive:

Merry and Sam drew their swords also and rode up to support Pippin; but Frodo did not move. (Lotr, 982)

The individual does not play an active role and, as a result, he is not admired or respected

by the community.

Few people wanted to know about [Frodo’s] deeds and adventures; their admiration and respect were given mostly to Mr. Meriadoc and Mr. Pergrin and (if Sam had known it) to himself. (Lotr, 1002)

Frodo is no longer a full member of the community. He retires from social life: ‘Frodo

dropped quietly out of all the doings of the Shire.’ (Lotr, 1002) Frodo fails to reintegrate,

and eventually leaves the Shire for good. He takes Arwen’s place on board of the elvish

ships that sail West to the undying lands, and so leaves Middle-earth for ever.

During his quest, Frodo undergoes a process of development, out of which he emerges as

an individual. The individual, equipped with his own personal morals and values, is unable

to reintegrate himself into his society, and is unwilling to subject himself to the dominant

morals of the community.

5.2.3. Moral of forgiveness The moral of the Bildungsroman is a personal moral, and is the result of the process of

development of the main character. This moral often contrasts with the dominant moral of

the community. Of course, the development of the protagonist covers many different

facets, and Frodo learns many lessons. I will focus here on only one of these lessons.

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Frodo has learnt how to forgive. I will focus on this moral of forgiveness, because it is so

dominant, and because it clearly contrasts with the moral of the Shire.

If a story ends with a confirmation of the values of a community, this can be reflected in

the narrative by giving a prominent place to the administration of justice: ‘legal procedures

play a critical role: they serve to sum up the adventures of the heroes and provide a legal

and judicial affirmation of their identity’ (Moretti 2000: 205). This is exactly what happens

when order is restored on the level of Middle-earth: ‘In the days that followed his crowning

the King sat on his throne in the Hall of the Kings and pronounced judgements’. (Lotr, 947)

In the restoration of the shire, however, these legal procedures are completely absent. No

justice is administered by the community, nor by an authority appointed by that

community. The only person who pronounces moral judgements is Frodo. He offers

forgiveness to many people. His moral of forgiveness isolates him even further from his

community. This becomes clear in the battle between the hobbits and the ruffians:

‘Frodo had been in the battle, but he had not drawn sword, and his chief part had been to prevent the hobbits in their wrath at their losses, from slaying those of their enemies who threw down their weapons.’ (Lotr, 993)

If Frodo honours a different moral than his community, this is due to his development in

the course of the novel. At the beginning of the novel, Frodo’s moral views are no different

from those of the community, as we can see from his judgement of Gollum: ‘I do not feel

any pity for Gollum. […] Now at any rate he is as bad as an orc, and just an enemy. He

deserves death.’ (Lotr, 58) Gandalf spells out the lesson Frodo will have to learn during his

process of maturation: ‘Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can

you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgement.’ (Lotr, 58)

At the outset, Frodo is not open to Gandalf’s advice. He ‘can’t understand’ (Lotr, 58) the

stance of Gandalf and the elves in this matter. It is only after meeting the elves, and

especially Gollum, that Frodo understands the true meaning of the words, and succeeds in

incorporating the moral. His development is clearly a process of learning through

experience. As Frodo is confronted with alien worldviews and morals, he constructs his

own personal worldview. That this will result in a clash with the community religion is

already anticipated during the quest when Frodo and Sam argue about Gollum. Sam

wants to kill the creature, but Frodo opposes Sam with the very words Gandalf had spoken

to him at the beginning of the quest. This is more than just an argument between two

people. Sam, as an individuum, represents the community, and therefore we can read this

quarrel as a foreshadowing of the conflict between the individual and the community.

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Frodo is not afraid to stand up for his new beliefs in his own community. He forgives the

Shirrif who arrests him: ‘‘But don’t forget I’ve arrested you.’ ‘I won’t,’ said Frodo. ‘Never.

But I may forgive you.’’ (Lotr, 978). He also pities Lotho: ‘Miserable fool, but I am sorry for

him.’ (Lotr, 983). The most striking example, however, is the confrontation between Frodo

and Saruman. Here, the difference between Frodo and his community becomes very

clear. Saruman is responsible for all the recent sufferings in the Shire. The community

wants his head for this: ‘Don’t let him go! Kill him! He’s a villain and a murderer. Kill him!’

(Lotr, 995) This attitude shows a striking resemblance to Saruman’s motto: ‘One ill turn

deserves another’ (Lotr, 995). In this way, the moral of the Shire is discredited. Frodo’s

attitude is contrasted to this, and is presented as morally superior. He rejects the idea of

‘an eye for an eye’ -‘If that is what you find pleasure in, […] I pity you’ (Lotr, 995)- and

forgives Saruman. Saruman’s reaction stresses that Frodo’s moral is different from his, but

that it is also superior. It commands respect: ‘There was a strange look in [Saruman’s]

eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred.’ (Lotr, 996)

Saruman is also the one who acknowledges that Frodo’s attitude is the result of a process

of development:

‘You have grown, Halfling,’ he said. ‘Yes you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy.’ (Lotr, 996)

Frodo’s development is here described as a process of education. Frodo has grown ‘wise’,

and his mercifulness has emerged in the course of this process of education. The moral is

thus explicitly linked to the dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman.

There is a clear reaction to the conservative moral. The moral of forgiveness is the result

of the personal development of an individual, and as such it is closely connected to the

Bildungsroman. This moral is pitted against the conservative moral of the mission

chronotope. Furthermore, we can not just ignore this new moral, as it is presented as

morally superior to the community religion.

We can conclude that The Lord of the Rings combines two chronotopes, and as such the

book offers the reader two different morals which strongly differ from each other. The one

moral, however, is not as easily recognised as the other. The mission chronotope is

dominant (it gets the end weight because the very last sentences describe Sam’s

homecoming), and therefore the conservative moral is also dominant. The moral of

forgiveness, which is connected to the dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman, is also

present, but asks for a reading against the grain. This moral is therefore less easily picked

up by the readers.

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PART 3 | CONCLUSION

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The central question formulated at the beginning of this thesis was how LOTR combines

modern and mythical elements in one story. We have endeavoured to answer this

question from the perspective of the Bakhtinian concept of the chronotope.

Firstly, the modern and mythical elements had to be grouped and isolated within the story.

Mythical elements were linked to the mission chronotope, and modern elements were

linked to the dialogical chronotope of the Bildungsroman. To these two chronotopes was

added the idyllic chronotope. This chronotope is relevant to our study; not so much

because it recurs throughout the story, but rather because as an ‘actieruimte-chronotoop’,

the idyll has an important organizing function within the mission chronotope and the

dialogical chronotope, both of which function primarily as ‘plotruimte-chronotopen’.

Paraphrased in Bakhtinian terms, the goal of this text is to show how the different

chronotopes manifest themselves in the story, and to explain how they interact with each

other.

Each of the three chronotopes (i.e. the idyllic, mission, and dialogical chronotope) has

been analyzed in great detail. I have described how they manifest themselves in the novel.

I will not repeat the findings here, as they are clearly summarised at the end of every

chapter.

I will, however, briefly return to chapter four, and show how this chapter formulates an

answer to the second part of our central question, which is concerned with the interaction

of chronotopes.

The point where the mission chronotope and the dialogical chronotope overlap and enter

in a dialogue is the idyllic ‘actieruimte-chronotoop’. The idyll has an important organising

function within both chronotopes, but each chronotope treats the idyll in a different fashion.

We found that the mission chronotope builds up towards a sublimation of the idyll,

whereas the dialogical chronotope ends with the destruction of the idyll – if it is not

destroyed, the initial secluded idyll is at least opened up to the outside world. The long

dénouement of LOTR is in this respect important, because it is the point where we can

most clearly observe the interaction between the chronotopes.

Moreover, we found that the ending of the novel incorporates a double moral, as it

combines the conservative moral of the mission chronotope and the individual moral of

forgiveness of the dialogical chronotope.

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Finally, I would like to briefly turn to the question that is formulated in the title of this thesis.

Is The Lord of the Rings an epic, and can it consequently function as a stand-in for the

English mythology which has been lost? Or should we rather read the work as a modern

text?

It should by now be clear to the reader that the answer to this question is that The Lord of

the Rings is both. I have tried to show that it is important to acknowledge the co-existence

of these two readings, and this for two main reasons. Firstly, this perspective shows how

some readings ignore certain parts of the text or even (consciously) corrupt textual

evidence in order to fit the text to one specific chronotope. Secondly, I believe that a

reading which acknowledges both the modern and the mythical elements in the novel is

bound to exceed in richness any reading which reduces The Lord of the Rings to one

dominant chronotope.

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PART 4 | BIBLIOGRAPHY

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