The Courage Of Hobbits

[Aron Eugine]

Suddenlya song began: a cold murmur, rising and falling. The voice seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin, sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad but horrible sounds, strings of words would now and again shape themselves: grim, hard, cold words, heartless and miserable. The night was railing against the morning of which it was bereaved, and the cold was cursing the warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while the song became clearer, and with dread in his heart he perceived that it had changed into an incantation:

At first Frodo felt as if he had indeed been turned into stone by the incantation. Then a wild thought of escape came to him. He wondered if he put on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight would miss him, and he might find some way out. He thought of himself running free over the grass, grieving for Merry, and Sam, and Pippin, but free and alive himself. Gandalf would admit that there had been nothing else he could do.

But the courage that had been awakened in him was now too strong: he could not leave his friends so easily. He wavered, groping in his pocket, and then fought with himself again; and as he did so the arm crept nearer. Suddenly resolve hardened in him, and he seized a short sword that lay beside him, and kneeling he stooped low over the bodies of his companions. With what strength he had he hewed at the crawling arm near the wrist, and the hand broke off; but at the same moment the sword splintered up to the hilt. There was a shriek and the light vanished. In the dark there was a snarling noise.

This call, it turns out, was more than an invitation. It began doing something in Bilbo. The fearful hobbit again refuses, but invites Gandalf back the next day. And Gandalf does return, but not before sending thirteen dwarves along first.

When all the dwarves and Gandalf had arrived, they did what dwarves love to do: they sang. They sang of mountains and caverns, of hoards and wars, of history and legacy, of dragons and of gold. And as they sang, something happened inside of Bilbo, a sudden spring broke over his long, cozy winter:

As they sang the hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and a jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and wear a sword instead of a walking-stick. (18)

He crept noiselessly down, down, down into the dark. He was trembling with fear, but his little face was set and grim. Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief for ages. He loosened his dagger in its sheath, tightened his belt, and went on.

If Gandalf had shown him at the start where he would end up, Bilbo would have never left his hole. But facing trolls, goblins, and dragons made him a very different hobbit. What has God called you to do that feels too uncomfortable, too costly, too unlike you? Who might you become if you trusted him and took the risk?

It was at this point that Bilbo stopped. Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did. The tremendous things that happened afterwards were as nothing compared to it. He fought the real battle in the tunnel alone, before he ever saw the vast danger that lay in wait.

What might Jesus be calling you to do that feels too inconvenient or costly, at least right now? Where do you feel yourself too bound to the comforts and security of your routine? What could you step out and do for Jesus, whether large or small, that would take real, unlikely courage?

As I said at the beginning, the mountains and dragons often change from season to season. As a young father, I am learning that raising toddlers, with love and patience and a resolve to teach them Jesus, sometimes requires supernatural strength and courage. As one of my favorite parenting articles says,

Once they reach the lonely mountain, the company again looks to Bilbo. He must enter the cavern where Smaug, the dragon, resides. All of the other dwarves are to afraid to even come close. In pitch black, Bilbo slowly begins down the tunnel, yet hesitates:

Our battle with fear, our desire for courage, is a battle we must face before the actual battle of danger. As we stand in the tunnel on our way to the dragon, we must make a decision ahead of time that no matter what, we will continue to do what is right. God is with us, He has promised good for us, and there is a world in need. What else can we do but go forward into risk?

Perhaps you feel like a timid hobbit. Perhaps the scary obedience in front of you makes you waffle; just imagining what the conversation will be like, what the confrontation will turn into, what the refusal will entail makes you reconsider whether or not you really need to obey. Maybe we should play it safe?

So, as you look at what lay before you, as you stand in a dark tunnel with danger ahead, remember the promises of God. He is with you, He is for you, you are not alone. Push yourself under the power of the Spirit to risk, to do hard things, to lean into costly obedience. There may very well be dragons slain as a result of your obedience.

Today we have the honor of featuring a post by Mark Wilson, a frequent speaker at our young writer workshops. Professor Wilson is especially beloved for his heartfelt presentations on the work of J. R. R. Tolkien. You can read for yourself why:

Hobbit courage was of a different sort. In The Hobbit Tolkien says the bravest thing Bilbo ever did was decide to walk alone down the tunnel to the red glow of the sleeping dragon. Tolkien explains:

This quest may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong. Yet such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere.

Mark and Teckla live in Myrtle Point which he both loves and hates. When the rain stops, Mark and his Dobermann often walk up to the cemetary on the hill. There he prays for his family and the city. He would like to see these prayers answered before he dies.

As a child I remember being obsessed with the hobbits, wanting to name my cats Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin. I think this was mostly because I was roughly hobbit-sized at this point, and I enjoyed the idea of someone who was as small as I was having such extraordinary adventures. However, when I got older, I started to become frustrated with my furry-footed friends. When I reread the books as a teenager I was entranced by the human and elf characters, particularly admiring Strider and his considerable mystique. I attribute this mostly to teenage foolishness and Viggo Mortensen.

I think that the most common complaint levied at the Fellowship of the Ring is that there is an awful lot of walking for not a lot of action. I used to joke with my friends that the formula was fairly simple: eat, walk, eat, walk, nap, eat, walk, eat, sleep, next goddamn chapter. Yet as the hobbits begin their slow but steady descent into a complicated and dangerous world from their carefully sheltered lives, we start to see them change and develop. Each of them begins to find their limits and their courage in small ways, and it is this courage that they will rely on throughout the books.

The appeal of the hobbits, ultimately, is their status as everyman characters. They are thrust out of their quiet little lives of comfort and good food and beer and thrown into conflicts and situations that they do not understand. As the reader we are constantly reminded of how small and powerless these characters seem and how powerless they sometimes feel. They are tiny little people attempting to make an impact upon a large and overpowering world. At a time when the state of the world can seem distressing, that is a mentality that I can understand.

When we see Aragorn confront Uruk-hai and smote them with his bright sword Narsil, we are confident that he will triumph over his foe. This is thrilling to read about, but it pales in comparison to the kind of tension that we feel when one of the hobbits faces similar opponents. When Sam charges, almost suicidal, to save Frodo from the giant spider Shelob we feel the foolishness of his efforts. Shelob is ancient and powerful, and there is no chance that Sam can defeat her. Yet still, he dashes forward, and through luck and courage manages to gravely wound her. This demonstrates the tremendous dignity of these characters, who prove themselves to be unfailingly courageous and stalwart.

There is a beautiful moment in The Return of the King, when Sam finally realizes what destroying the ring will mean. They have been running out of provisions for weeks, and the final push to Mount Doom is a battle against thirst and malnutrition. Seeing that there is no way for them to survive, and that they will destroy this evil only to starve in the middle of a blasted, wasted realm, Sam gives in to despair. He resents his foolish quest and his ridiculous loyalty and all of the times that he could have turned back and gone home.

To me this is the most beautiful thing about The Lord of the Rings. It sets itself up as a story of kings and monsters, and heroes of epic proportion. Yet ultimately it is about small people and small acts of courage who do their best to make an impact upon a much larger world. It is romantic to fancy myself Aragorn. But I think I would be happy to be cut from the same cloth as Merry, Pippin, Frodo, or Sam. I would count myself lucky to be have the courage and decency to stand before unconquerable odds and choose to do the right thing.

Frodo and Sam are saved from the rising lava by Eagles, who are led by Gandalf. In the aftermath of the great war, Aragorn is crowned King, heralding a new age of peace, while the four hobbits are bowed to by all of Gondor for their courageous efforts. The four Hobbits return home to the Shire, where Sam marries his childhood sweetheart, Rosie Cotton. Four years later, Frodo leaves Middle-earth for the Undying Lands with Gandalf, Bilbo, Elrond, Celeborn, and Galadriel, leaving his account of their quest in a book to Sam.

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