THE QUALITY OF MERCY

THE TWO TOWERS
By J. R. R. Tolkien
352 pp. Boston:
Houghton Mifflin Company. $22

Reviewed by Laurie Meunier Graves

Not long ago, I saw the recent film version of The Two Towers, the middle story of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. While the director, Peter Jackson, did a serviceable job of bringing Tolkien’s epic fantasy to the screen, it seemed as though something was missing from the film. However, because it had been twenty-five years since I had read the book, I couldn’t exactly place what was wrong with the movie. Clearly, there was only one course of action: reread the book.

And that’s exactly what I did. It wasn’t long before I discovered what was missing from the movie. By focusing too much on the battle scenes, the film failed to capture the book’s key issues and philosophies: the notion of compassion even in the face of evil, the refusal to dehumanize the enemy, how good and evil are not fixed, and how evil is both within and without.

With the notable exception of Gollum, one of the story’s characters, what the movie lacked was the moral complexity of the novel. It is this moral complexity that raises The Two Towers from the level of a good fantasy to a work of art. Using archetypes and myths, Tolkien took a hard look at human nature, at our overwhelming desire for power, and our capacity for destruction. In addition, he created vivid, memorable characters that seem achingly real. Only a careless reader would consider The Lord of the Rings to be escapist literature.

The plot of The Two Towers and indeed of the entire The Lord of the Rings trilogy is deceptively simple. In a faraway time and a faraway place—Middle Earth—the dark Lord Sauron makes a ring of power. This ring gives its wearer complete control of all living things, but because Sauron, who is evil, forges the ring, it will corrupt all those who wear it, even powerful wizards and elves. In battle, Sauron loses the ring, and it eventually falls into the hands of a hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, who is unaware of its evil power. The years pass, and Bilbo gives the ring to his nephew Frodo while Gandalf, a wizard, discovers the true nature of the ring. And just in time! Sauron, who has been regaining some of the power he had lost in battle, is desperate to recover the ring. Then, it’s the forces of evil against an unlikely band of heroes—four hobbits (Frodo, Sam, Pippin and Merry), two humans (Aragorn and Boromir), one dwarf (Gimli), one elf (Legolas), and, of course, Gandalf. The race is on to either destroy the ring or gain control of it.

But it is here that the story gets interesting. To destroy the ring, it must be returned to Mordor, “the land of the enemy himself, where alone the Ring could be unmade,” and thrown into the fires of Mount Doom. To defeat evil, one must go toward evil and destroy it at its source.

The first book, The Fellowship of the Ring, introduces the main characters, as well as the forming of the fellowship, and charts the beginning of the quest to destroy the ring. The second book, The Two Towers, begins where the first one ended, with the dissolution of the fellowship. Gandalf has fallen, Boromir is killed, and Merry and Pippin have been captured by Orcs and goblins sent by the evil wizard Saruman, who knows that hobbits carry the ring. But Frodo, who is “the ring bearer,” has managed to slip away and head for Mordor. His only companion is his trusty servant Sam. After some debate, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas decide to honor Frodo’s decision to go to Mordor without them. Instead, they go after Merry and Pippin to try to rescue them. The first half of the book bounces between the trackers (Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas) and the captives (Merry and Pippin).

On their way, Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas meet the riders of Rohan, “the Horse-lords” of Middle Earth. Éomer, their leader, is not sure whether he should trust the three odd traveling companions, who are on foot in the middle of a great plain and are in pursuit of Orcs and goblins. When Éomer wonders somewhat plaintively how to tell the difference between good and evil, Aragorn replies, “As he ever has judged. Good and evil have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man’s part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house.”

After September 11th, the words good and evil have been bandied about and used opportunely by those in power. One can only wish that they would read The Two Towers and heed Aragorn’s wise words. Unfortunately, works of fantasy are seldom used for guidance by leaders who, for the most part, are too literal minded.

However, Éomer is moved by Aragorn’s words and allows the three to continue on their way. He even gives them horses to aid them on their mission.

Meanwhile, Pippin and Merry are being hauled roughly by the Orcs and the goblins, who are bringing them to Saruman. The Orcs and goblins are among the most bestial of Tolkien’s creation, and with their coarse features, coarse language, and brutal ways, they have few redeeming qualities. Yet Tolkien gives them human touches that in fact make them seem like a grotesque version of British soldiers gone bad. “‘Sit up!’[snarls the Orc leader to Pippin and Merry.] ‘My lads are tired of lugging you about.’”

Pippin and Merry, being small but resourceful, do manage to escape before Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas can rescue them. They slip into Fangorn Forest, which is “old beyond guessing,” and meet unlikely allies—Ents, giant creatures that are part tree and part human and place great value in not being “hasty.”

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli track the hobbits into Fangorn forest, and there they meet a white wizard whom they mistake for Saruman. Instead, it is Gandalf, who did not fall, and has returned to help fight the battle for Middle Earth. “‘Yes, I am in white,’ said Gandalf. ‘Indeed I am Saruman, one might almost say, Saruman as he should have been.’” With this association, Tolkien continues the Jungian dualities that thread their way through these books. Gandalf and Saruman, Frodo and Gollum, Boromir and his brother Faramir are all shadows of each other, opposites yet intimately connected. Tolkien makes us realize that the dark possibilities are averted through luck, circumstance, and, of course, choice.

Yet Tolkien seems to suggest that we shouldn’t get too smug about righteous choices. In The Fellowship of the Ring, Elrond reminds us that no one started out evil, not even the dark Lord Sauron. To go even further, this turning from good to evil is always a possibility, and it can happen to anyone.

It is perhaps this recognition that prompts the twin notions of compassion and mercy, which may, in the end, be what truly separates the good from the evil. When Gandalf finally confronts Saruman, who has caused so much misery and death, his first impulse is not to take his sword and hack Saruman into little pieces. Vengeance, while a natural reaction, is not even considered. Instead, Gandalf is filled with sorrow as he reflects on all that Saruman was. “I will do nothing to him. I do not wish for mastery…I grieve that so much that was good now festers in the tower.” Saruman’s life is spared, and this extraordinary mercy, more than anything else, shows how truly powerful Gandalf is.

The first half of the book concludes in a tangle of battles, alliances, and victories. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas join the Rohan for a battle at a fortress called Helm’s Deep. There, they fight Saruman’s mighty army. The Ents and their brethren do their part to overthrow Saruman’s stronghold at Isengard, and at last Pippin and Merry are reunited with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. However, the enemy has not been conquered and indeed never can be unless the ring is destroyed.

The second half of the book follows Frodo and Sam as they make their way to Mordor. It opens with the two hobbits being hopelessly lost among dark hills that won’t let them go. To make matters worse, they discover that the twisted Gollum is following them. Gollum first made his appearance in The Hobbit, and he is one of the most compelling characters in the series. In the beginning, Gollum was very much like a hobbit, but by foul means, he acquired the ring and fled under the mountains with it. Over the long years, the ring transformed him into a pale, skinny lizardlike creature with great eyes and “thin lank hair.” Finally, the ring was ready to return to Sauron, and it left Gollum, only to be found by Bilbo Baggins. This was an expected turn of events for both the ring and for Bilbo.

Gollum is consumed by his lust for the ring, and he is obsessed with thoughts of getting it back. He has tracked the ring to Frodo and Sam, and this, of course, is why he is following them. He plans to jump the hobbits when they least expect it and take back the ring. But the hobbits are too quick for him, and it is Gollum who is jumped and bound.

As Frodo stares at Gollum, he at last understands why Bilbo did not kill Gollum, even though he had the chance to do so. He remembers what Gandalf said: “It was pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need…Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life…be not too eager to deal out death in the name of justice…Even the wise cannot see all ends.”

Again, one can only wish that those in power would read the book and follow Bilbo’s example.

Frodo, of course, decides to let Gollum live. He feels a tight bond with the creature. When Frodo looks at Gollum’s twisted form, he understands what has happened. Worse yet, he can feel the ring’s affect on himself. The divide between Frodo and Gollum is narrow and wide at the same time.

Gollum, too, can feel the connection, and swears by the ring, “his precious,” to lead the hobbits to Mordor. As he does this, a sort of transformation comes over him, a remembrance, perhaps, of his old self, and he begins “prancing about, like a whipped cur whose master has patted it.”

Yet the old Gollum is never very far away. The stalwart Sam, who fills the time-honored role of the trusty servant and helper, is well aware of Gollum’s divided nature, and he has dubbed the two halves “Stinker and Slinker.” Sam is not sure which is worse—Stinker or Slinker—and he is ever alert to signs of treachery.

Yet Gollum does guide them to Mordor. He brings them in through the back way, through swamps and marshes, and without his help, the hobbits would have been captured. In the end, Gollum does betray them, but he does it with a regret that Tolkien describes in a moving, believable way. “Gollum looked at [the sleeping hobbits]. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him…For a fleeting moment, could of one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit…”

This sympathy for an evil character is unusual in any novel, and it is even rarer in a work of fantasy. Just as remarkable is the empathy Sam feels for the enemy, when for the first time, he witnesses a battle between men. As a soldier from Sauron’s army falls not far from where Sam is hiding, the hobbit “wondered what the man’s name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace...”

The Two Towers has a cliffhanger ending that will not be revealed in this review. But the ending, of course, is not really the ending, and there’s more to come in The Return of the King.

I first read The Lord of the Rings when I was eleven, and what I remember from that reading is the grand epic and the individual characters: the heroes Frodo and Aragorn, the ethereal Legolas, the gruff but stalwart Gimli, the wise Gandalf, the flawed yet brave Boromir, the scrappy Pippin and Merry, the stout-hearted Sam, and, of course, the miserable Gollum. I did not catch the complexities of the story or grasp the divided nature of many of the characters.

I read the trilogy again when I was in my twenties. Even then, my focus was on the epic nature of the story, and I didn’t appreciate Tolkien’s subtleties. It was only after I read The Lord of the Ring for the third time, when I was in my forties, that I began to catch all that I had missed when I was younger.

Yet I am not sorry I read the books when I was younger. And my admiration for Tolkien just grows deeper and deeper. How many writers are able to create a story that holds both young and old readers? A story that is both simple and complex? A story that is as true now as it was when it was written nearly seventy years ago? A story that can be read many times? Tolkien achieved the nearly impossible with The Lord of the Rings, and it’s no exaggeration to state that it is a story for all times.
 

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