I finished reading "The Hobbit" yesterday, and I was left with an overwhelming sense disgust. This was prompted as much by the greedy behavior of Thorin, the dwarf who was seduced by the horde of treasure in the Lonely Mountain, as much as by the aggression shown by the various species who do battle in the end. There is also a reference to genocide, by which I mean the manner by which the goblins were gradually exterminated in these northern realms. Being no admirer of these creatures, I can nonetheless appreciate that they had their own society and their own interests. It is no wonder that there should have been such hostility evident in the subsequent trilogy.
It must also be noted that I enjoyed the dialogue between Smaug and Bilbo. I can appreciate the craftiness of the hobbit as he crafts a series of titles for himself, as well as the smugness and tone of reproval of a dragon who was able to insinuate and poison the mind of Bilbo as he conversed with him. This was another contest of wills evident in the terrain of rhetoric and discourse, and it was one of the most entertaining elements. It made me regret the fact that we had so little dialogue with Smaug, who was killed soon after by the men of the Long lake. Specifically, by a man named Bard, one who is described often as "grim".
Gandalf arrived at the end, but seemingly was able to do nothing to resolve the conflict that was evident between the band of dwarves and the army of men and elves. He instead cries a warning about the arrival of the army of the goblins, one that was little anticipated and much feared. He does service to the sobriquet that he was assigned in the "Lord of the Rings", where he was dismissed as Gandalf "Stormcrow", who always brings bad tidings, although in fairness, he strikes me as the organizational mastermind of this enterprise as well as the battle against Sauron.
It is Bilbo who seems to be immune to the spell of the treasure, and who wishes to resolve the situation peacefully. He is intrepid and resourceful, and this continues to surprise even when we are made aware of all the other strategems he has devised to save the expedition. Bilbo has hidden the famed Arkenstone, and he takes it to the elves and the men, forcing Thorin to make a deal with this army. However, the dwarf is weak, and he reneges on his promise, waiting to gain by battle what he was not willing to safeguard by negociation. He isn't the first character to break a promise.
I wouldn't be too harsh in my assessment of Thorin, however. We are all imperfect creatures, and I recognize that I have felt myself impelled to make bad decisions in my lifetime. It has happened in the past, it will happen in the future. Perhaps the aspect of redemption at the end is more hopeful, although he has to die to expiate the guilt of his having banished Bilbo and having reneged on his promise to the elves and the men. There seems to be much distrust between groups, and much pursuit of self-interest. It is only the threat of extinguishment that binds them, and perhaps, that is why I suspect that Gandalf withheld giving notice of the approach of the combined armies of the goblins and wargs. Perhaps he didn't expect them to arrive as soon as he did, or perhaps he recognized that an external enemy would unite the two opposing forces. It has ever served as a successful strategy in the past.
In the end, the battle is a desperate struggle, and there seems to be little hope of survival for the elves, dwarves and men where it not for the arrival of the eagles and of Beorn, the changling. Another more majestic spectacle could not be offered other than the sight of a giant bear tearing into goblins and wargs, cutting them to peaces. He is a primal force to whom no one can offer resistence, and it will be wonderful to see how this is filmed in the upcoming Peter Jackson films. And even so, there is a see-saw between the groups and moments of despair before the battle is somehow, unexpectedly, won. Bilbo does not see this because he is incapacitated by a blow, and wakes up in time to say farewell to a dying Thorin, the "King of the Mountain" who acquited himself poorly.
In the end, there are many farewells. Bilbo is counted as a friend once again by all, and he undertakes the long trek home, as the hobbits in the subsequent trilogy will do at the end. The elves sing, and I am still unsettled by the merriness of their song and comportment. They seem to be far-removed from the serious, dignified and somewhat haughty elves we would see in other books. Perhaps the elves have evolved as well, or, as is more likely, their character has been refashioned by Tolkein to reflect new narrative purposes. They certainly seemed more earthy in "The Hobbit".
The hobbit returns to Bag End to find his home and belongings being auctioned. He receives no warm welcome, and perhaps this is justified and natural. Ingratitude must ever be part of the reward for heroism, and it has the effect of reinforcing the modesty that we insist from our heroes. Bilbo, after the long quest, is forced to piece together his life, and cannot return to being what he was. He is no longer a respectable hobbit, content to glory in the staidness of life where nothing happens and each day is much like the rest. He has stories to tell, and these stories must seem like incredible exaggerations that are met with bemusement at best and with scorn at worst. Storytellers are not always treated well.
Bilbo also consorts with other species, from wizards to dwarves and elves. And yet, despite his being cast aside, he seems to conserve an air of dignity and quiet joy. He has changed, and as a result, has become more sure of himself. Enough perhaps to accept the isolation that comes with his changes, although he is never truly isolated nor forgotten by his friends. And, he now has a magic ring! Little does he suspect how the world will hinge on the control of this item, but the best testament in the meantime for his character is that Bilbo seems to feel no temptation to abuse the power of invisibility. In other stories, from Plato's fable to H.G. Wells' "The Invisible Man", such power has always been an invitation to abuse.
Now, I would like to proceed to other fantasies. Perhaps it is time to read "The Worm Ourobouros", by Eddington. Or, what is more likely, it may be time to undertake Shakespeares' "The Tempest". In Caliban I may encounter a doppelganger, after all.
Eternal Observer -- ORomero (c) 2011
Copyrights ORomero 2011
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